yf^Trfn:^W 
 
 
 idMiU 
 
With 125 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. cloth extra, ^s. 6d. 
 
 LONDON. 
 
 By WALTER BESANT. 
 
 • What the late J. R. Green has done for England Sir Walter Besant has here attempted, with 
 conspicuous success, for Cockaigne. The author of " A Short History of the English People" and 
 the historian of the London citizen share together the true secret of popularity. Both have placed 
 before the people of to-day a series of vivid and indelible pictures of tlie people of the past. . . . No 
 one who loves his London but will love it the better for reading this book. He who loves it not has 
 before him a clear duty and a manifest pleasure.'— Graphic. 
 
 * A book on London by Sir Walter Besant must surely recommend itself sufficiently to all readers by 
 its title and the name of its author. ... It is a series of instantaneous photographs, taken from age 
 to age, by an artist of rare skill in applying his camera and developing the latent details of his 
 plate. . . . Altogether, the book deserves a cordial welcome from ail who take an intelligent interest 
 m the London life of the past.'— Times. 
 
 ' Mr. Besant writes history as Thackeray wrote the chronicles of the Four Georges.' — Standard. 
 
 'A brilliant series of pictures. . . . Nothing so vivid has ever before been done about old London. 
 There does not seem to lie a single false note ; and the amount both of hard reading and of personal 
 topographical observation necessary to its composition must have been enormous. The novelist 
 turned historian is delightful reading.'— Saturday Review. 
 
 ' Sir Walter Besant knows and loves his London thoroughly, and his beautifully illustrated book 
 will call up in the minds of those who bow to the spell a thousand delights of memory and expectation. 
 He contrives not merely to call back the old London, but to make the London of the present more 
 living than before.' — Spectator. 
 
 With 131 Illustrations. Demy 8vo. cloth extra, 7^. 6d. 
 
 WESTMINSTER. 
 
 By WALTER BESANT. 
 
 'Westminster, not London, we hold to be the true centre of our national life. . , . This Sir 
 Walter Besant, with picturesque pen, makes clear enough. He yields to no one in devotion to the 
 memory of London. He has told the story of the old city and its corporate life in a way which has 
 never been surpassed— not even equalled. The past of the mother of municipal life he has made to 
 live and breathe in these our days in a manner which reduces all other records of London to the mere 
 
 dryasdust category. But we like his " Westminster " even better There is nothing but admir.i- 
 
 tion to be expressed as well for the plan as for the execution of the book.' — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 ' An a'together fascinating book. Paper, print, and pictures are worthy of a text in which 
 erudition, colour, and literary charm are alike conspicuous.' — Queen. 
 
 ' The volume is a delightful one ; and, having read it, one walks through Westminster with new 
 eyes.'— Speaker. 
 
 ' Sir Walter Besant has here given us a worthy companion to his charming book on ** London." 
 . . . From beginning to end the narrative never flags, the illustrations never fail, and one rises 
 from its reading with fuller ideas of the historic interest of the place, and a greater veneration for the 
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 With 119 Illustrations. Dcaiy 8vo. cloth extra, gilt top, iSj. 
 
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 now followed by " South London," has certainly earned his title as the modern histonanof our mighty 
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 guide-books or dry-as-dust compilations, but works of original historical and topographical research. 
 ..." South London " is, in fact, deserving of the perusal of every educated denizen of London who 
 is not content to remain in outer darkness as to the history of his marvellous city.' — Spectator. 
 
 ' To all Londoners who realise the absorbing fascination of the great world they live in we 
 cordially recommend it as a wonhy sequal to the author's previous volumes. It is written by an 
 enthusiast who i£ also an acconriplished writer, by a student who is a close observer of life ; and it 
 passes before the reader's imagination a series of indelible pictures which clothe our prosiac and 
 monotonous South London with the romance which is its due.' — Literature. 
 
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 tell what they do know with such delightful freshness and vivacity. " South London " is the latest 
 product of his pen, and a very interesting piece of work it is.' -Black and White. 
 
 ' No writer since the days of old Stow has done more to render the history and topography of 
 London interesting to readers than Sir Walter Besant, whose remarkable trio of bo-iks on this 
 subject has just been completed by this solid volume devoted to South London,'— Daily News. 
 
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 EAST .LONDON. 
 
 By WALTER BESANT. 
 
 With 55 Illustrations by L. Raven Hill, Phil May, and Joseph Pennell. 
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 SIR RICHARD WHITTINGTON. 
 
 By WALTER BESANT and JAMES RICE. 
 With a Photogravure Frontisijiece. 
 
 • Mr. Besant is anenthusiast about London, and revels in its archives, its traditions, its historic 
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 and picturesque about City life and municipal splendour when Whittington was Lord Mayor, and he 
 has something also that is impressive to relate about the personal character and wise public spir 5 i 
 of a man who left his mark on the city of his fortunes by golden deeds of princely generosity. 
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 Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 35. dd. 
 
 GASPARD DE COLIGNY 
 
 By WALTER BESANT. With a Photo-gravure Portrait. 
 
 • This biography of the great Protestant Admiral is one of the most inspiriting historical essays 
 a reader could turn to, whether for instruction or for the encouragement that comes of looking on a 
 great example of a noble life.' — Scotsman. 
 
 ' The art of the novelist combined with the skill of the historian. ... It is delightful. . . . Readers 
 who were fascinated with Mr. Stanley Weymau's " A Gentleman of France " will find " Gaspard de 
 Coligny"of special interest to them, inasmuch as the two books deal with the same stirring times 
 from a diverse point of view.' — Morning Leader. 
 
 ' Mr. Besant has portrayed his hero with a loving touch. . . . His fascinating account of the 
 career of so picturesque a personality as the great Admiral cannot but be welcome.' — Sun. 
 
 ' We recommend this little volume as recording a life which has the strongest claims on our 
 sympathy and admiration.' — Spectator. 
 
 ' Coligny's career is not only full of interest in itself, but is of great historical importance. . . . 
 Mr. Besant has consulted every possible authority concerning the character and deeds of Coligny, and 
 the result of his labour is a volume from which the reader may in an hour or two acquire in the 
 pleasantest way a great deal of knowledge concerning one of the most stirring times of history, and 
 one of its principal figures.' — Saturday Review. 
 
 ' Coligny won distinction as an admiral and general, but it is as one of the great leaders of the 
 Huguenots that he will be remembered. Of his grand efforts in the cause of Protestantism in France 
 a most interesting account is given.' — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 5^. 
 
 FIFTY YEARS AGO. 
 
 By WALTER BESANT. With 144 Plates and Woodcuts. 
 
 • An admirable picture of the manners and customs of our fathers and grandfathers. It is strange, 
 indeed, to come upon an annalist with a knowledge of human nature and a sense of humour, and we 
 sometimesalmostforget thatheiswritingannals.'— JamesPayn, in the Illustrated London News. 
 
 ' '' Fifty Years Ago" is nat a novel, but it is doing it but scanty justice to say that it is more 
 amusing than many novels. . . . The book is enriched with a very interesting and complete series of 
 portraits.' — Saturday Review. 
 
 ' Mr. Besant's handsome volume, apart from its value as a vivid picture of men and manners, is as 
 entertaining almost as one of the author's novels. The illustrations are a very important part of the 
 woik. The sketches published at the time have been faithfully reproduced.' — Manchester 
 Examiner. 
 
 _ ' A series of entertaining chapters, to which the droll illustrations of George Cruikshank and the 
 inimitable portraits by Daniel Maclise lend additional effect. . . . The book is full of movement and 
 colour, ana presents a vivid and intere-ting picture of the great reign.' — Speaker. 
 
 ' Mr. Besant has accomplished a very worthy task. He gives us a picture of the country instinct 
 «rith life and glowing with colour. In his pages our grandfathers and grandmothers, with all their 
 faults and virtues, pass before us in " their habits as they moved." Mr. Besant is a capital guide. . . . 
 We are grateful 'o him for the charming entertainment.' — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 •«» Fop a List of Sir WALTER BESANT'S NOVELS, see Chatto & Windus's Catalogue. 
 
 London: CHATTO & WINDUS, iii St. Martin's Lane, W.C 
 
( 
 
 ( 
 
PART OF OLD LONDON BRIDGE, ST. MAGNUS, AND THE MONUMENT, 1831 
 
 From an Etching by Edward IVilliam Cooke 
 
LONDON 
 
 BY 
 
 WALTER BESANT, M.A. F.S.A. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'WESTMINSTER* ' SOUTH LONDON* 'FIFTY YEARS AGO* 
 'SIR RICHARD WHITTINGTON ' ' GASPARD DE COLIGNY ' ETC. 
 
 LUD GATB 
 
 A NEW EDITION 
 WITH 125 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 LONDON 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS 
 
 19S0 
 
'/J^y^JA^M^cMOUl^ 
 
 GIFT 
 
l>f\(o77 
 
 I 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 In the following chapters it has been my endeavour to present 
 pictures of the City of London— instantaneous photographs, 
 showing the streets, the buildings, and the citizens at work and 
 at play. Above all, the citizens ; with their daily life in the 
 streets, in the shops, in the churches, and in the houses ; the 
 merchant in the quays and on 'Change ; the shopkeeper of 
 Cheapside ; the priests and the monks and the friars ; the shout- 
 ing of those who sell ; the laughter and singing of those 
 who feast and drink ; the ringing of the bells ; the dragging of 
 the criminal to the pillory ; the Riding of the Lord Mayor and 
 Aldermen ; the river with its boats and barges ; the cheerful 
 sound of pipe and tabor ; the stage with its tumblers and its 
 rope-dancers ; the 'prentices with their clubs ; the evening dance 
 in the streets. I want my pictures to show all these things. 
 The history of London has been undertaken by many writers ; 
 the presentment of the city and the people from age to age has 
 never yet, I believe, been attempted. 
 
 The sources whence one derives the materials for such an 
 attempt are, in the earlier stages, perfectly well known and 
 accessible to all. Chaucer, Froissart, Lydgate, certain volumes 
 of the * Early English Text Society,' occur to everybody. But 
 the richest mine, for him who digs after the daily life of the 
 London citizen duringj;he fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, is 
 certainly Riley's great book of ' Extracts from the City Records.' 
 If there is any life or any reality in the three chapters of this 
 
viii LONDON 
 
 book which treat of the Plantagenet period, it is certainly due 
 to Riley. 
 
 As regards the Tudor period, the wealth of illustration is 
 astonishing. One might as well be writing of the city life of 
 this day, so copious are the materials. But it is not to Shake- 
 speare and the dramatists that we must look for the details so 
 much as to the minor writers, the moralists and satirists, of 
 whom the ordinary world knows nothing. 
 
 The reign of Charles II. directs one to the Plague and to 
 the Fire. 1 was fortunate in finding two tracts, one dealing 
 with the plague of 1603, and the other with that of 1625. These, 
 though they are earlier than Charles II., were invaluable, as 
 illustrating the effect of the pestilence in causing an exodus of 
 all who could get away, which took place as much in these 
 earlier years as in 1666. Contemporary tracts on the state of 
 London after the Fire, also happily discovered, proved useful. 
 And when the Plague and the Fire had been dismissed, another 
 extraordinary piece of good fortune put me in possession of 
 certain household accounts which enabled me to present a 
 bourgeois family of the period at home. 
 
 Where there is so much to speak about, one must exercise 
 care in selection. I have endeavoured to avoid as much as 
 possible those points which have already been presented. For 
 instance, the growth of the municipality, the rise of the Guilds 
 and the Companies, the laws of London, the relations of the 
 city to the Sovereign and the State — these things belong to the 
 continuous historian, not to him who draws a picture of a given 
 time. In the latter case it is the effect of law, not its growth, 
 which is important. Thus I have spoken of the pilgrimizing in 
 the time of Henry II. ; of the Mysteries of that time; things 
 that belonged to the daily life ; rather than to matters of policy, 
 the stubborn tenacity of the city, or the changes that were com- 
 ing over the conditions of existence and of trade. Again, in 
 
PREFACE IX 
 
 Plantagenet London one might have dwelt at length upon the 
 action taken by London in successive civil wars. That, again, 
 belongs to the historian. I have contented myself with sketch- 
 ing the churches and the monasteries, the palaces and the men- 
 at-arms, the merchants and the workmen. 
 
 Again, in the time of George II., the increase of trade, which 
 then advanced by leaps and bounds, the widening of the world 
 to London enterprise, the part which London took in the 
 conquest of India and the ejection of France from North 
 America, belong to history. For my own part, I have preferred 
 to show the position, the influence, and the work of the Church 
 at a time generally believed to be the deadest period in the 
 whole history of the Church of England. This done, I have 
 gone on to illustrate the day-by-day life of the citizens, with the 
 prices of things, the management, and the appearance of the 
 city. 
 
 One thing remains to be said. Mr. Loftie, in his ' History of 
 London ' (Stanford), first gave the world a reconstruction of the 
 ground — the terrain — of London and its environs before ever a 
 house was erected or an acre cleared. The first chapter of this 
 book — that on Roman London and After — is chiefly due to a 
 study of this map, and to realising what that map means when 
 applied to the scanty records of Augusta. This map enabled 
 me to recover the years which followed the retreat of the 
 Romans. I cannot allow this chapter to be called a Theory. 
 It is, I venture to claim for it, nothing less than a Recovery. 
 
 WALTER BESANT. 
 
 United University Club ; 
 
 May 2, 1892. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 chap; 
 
 PAGB 
 
 I. AFTER THE ROMANS I 
 
 II. SAXON AND NORMAN 31 
 
 III. PLANTAGENET 73 
 
 IV. PEANTAGENET r^«/m/W. . . . . .108 
 
 V. TLAlSiTAGENET—con/mued . . . . . . 144 
 
 VI. TUDOR 176 
 
 VII. T\JT>OR— confirmed , . . . . . . 212 
 
 VIII. CHARLES THE SECOND 247 
 
 IX. GEORGE THE SECOND . . . . . . 286 
 
 INDEX 337 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Part of Old London Bridge, St. Magnus, and the Monument, 1831. 
 From an Etching by Edtvard William Cooke . . . Frontispiece 
 
 Lud Gate Vignette-title 
 
 Stowes Monument, in North Aisle of St. Andrew Undershaft . i 
 
 Roman Marble Sarcophagus. Guildhall 4 
 
 Statues of Mercury, Apollo, and Jupiter or Neptune : found in 
 
 THE Thames, 1837 5 
 
 Bronze Articles for Domestic Use 6 
 
 Bronze Fibul/e and other Ornaments : found in London . , . 8 
 
 Roman Pavement: Leadenhall Street 9 
 
 Bronze Bust of the Emperor Hadrian: found in the Thames. 
 
 British Museum . . . . . . . . . . . 12 
 
 A Bit of Roman Wall. From a photograph by W. II. Grove, 174 
 
 Brompton Road 13 
 
 Lamps and Lamp Stand 15 
 
 Sepulchral Cists, etc. : found in Warwick Square, Newgate 
 
 Street, 1881. British Museum 24 
 
 Roman Keys. Guildhall 25 
 
 Toilet Articles— Hair-pins ; Hair-pin (Sarina, Wife of Hadrian); 
 Bone Comb and Case (Cloakham) ; Bone Comb (Lower Thames 
 
 Street) . .' 26 
 
 Statuettes : found in Thames Street, 1889. Guildhall . , , 2/ 
 
 Roman Amphora 28 
 
 London Stone, Cannon Street, as it appeared in 1800 . . . 31 
 
 Battle between Two Armed Knights 35 
 
 River Tilting in the Twelfth Century 37 
 
 Crypt : Remains of the Collegiate Church of St. Martin-le- 
 
 Grand, E.C 39 
 
 The Founder's Tomb, St. Bartholomew the Great, E.C, founded 
 
 1123. . . . • 41 
 
 South Ambulatory, Church of St. Bartholomew, founded 1123 . 44 
 
 St. Katherine's by the Tower 46 
 
 # 
 
xiv LONDON 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Interior of the Church of St. Katherine's by the Tower . , 46 
 
 DowGATE Dock 48 
 
 St. Saviour's Dock 49 
 
 North-east View of St. Saviour's 50 
 
 Plan of Saxon Church, Bradford-on-Avon 51 
 
 Saxon Church, Seventh or Eighth Century, Bradford-on-Avon . 52 
 
 First Stone London Bridge, begun a.d. 1176 54 
 
 Crypt or Lower Chapel of St. Thomas's Church, London Bridge 55 
 
 West Front of Chapel on London Bridge 56 
 
 Part of London Wall in the Churchyard of St. Giles, Cripple- 
 gate " 58 
 
 Buildings of Knights Hospitallers 59 
 
 Crypt in Bow Church, from the North Side, near the East End 
 
 of the Nave 61 
 
 Interior of Porch of the Parish Church of St. Alphege, London 
 
 Wall, formerly the Chapel of the Priory of St. Elsynge 
 
 Spital 63 
 
 The Arms and Seals of the Prior and Convent of St. Saviour 
 
 at Bermondsey 70 
 
 Ruins (1790) of the Nunnery of St. Helen, Bishopsgate Street . 77 
 
 St. Helen's, Bishopsgate 78 
 
 South-west View of the Interior of the Church of St. Helen, 
 
 Bishopsgate Street 79 
 
 Church of St. Augustine (St. Austin) 80 
 
 Church of Austin Friars 81 
 
 Christ's Hospital, from the Cloisters 82 
 
 The Charter House 85 
 
 Ruins of the Convent of Nuns Minories, 1810 .... 93 
 
 Bow Church, Mile End Road 95 
 
 North-east View of Waltham Abbey Church, Essex ... 96 
 
 Waltham Abbey Church, Essex, before Restoration . . , . 97 
 
 Porch of St. Sepulchre's Church 100 
 
 South View of the Palace of the Bishops of Winchester, near 
 
 St. Saviour's 103 
 
 Charing Cross. Erected by Edward I. in memory of Qiteen Eleanor of 
 
 Castile ............. 108 
 
 The College of Arms, or Heralds' Office. Bridewell. View of 
 
 the Savoy from the Thames . 112 
 
 View of the South Front of Baynard's Castle, about 1640 . .113 
 
 View of Cold Harbour, in Thames Street, about i6od . , . 115 
 
 Crosby House, Bishopsgate Street 116 
 
 Interior of Crosby Hall . 117 
 
 Interior of Part of Crosby Hall, called the Council Room, 
 
 looking East 118 
 
 Gateway, etc., in Crosby Square (now destroyed) . , . . 119 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS xv 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Crosby Hall 120 
 
 North-east View of Crosby Hall, showing part of the Interior 
 
 OF the Great Hall 121 
 
 Gerrard's Hall 123 
 
 Bridewell Palace, about 1660, with the Entrance to the Fleet 
 
 River, part of the Black Friars, etc 127 
 
 The Thames Front, anno 1540 . . . . . . . .127 
 
 Ancient Court of Bridewell Palace 133 
 
 Old Charing Cross 144 
 
 The Strand (1547), with the Strand Cross,. Covent Garden, and 
 the Procession of Edward VI. to his Coronation at West- 
 minster ■ . . ... 163 
 
 Arms of Sir Richard Whittington 164 
 
 Arms granted to the Craft of the Ironmongers ok London by 
 
 Lancaster King of Arms, a.d. 1466 166 
 
 Guildhall, King Street, London 167 
 
 Blackwell Hall, King Street 168 
 
 Ancient Plate 170 
 
 The Conduit, near Bayswater 171 
 
 South-east View of Stepney Church 173 
 
 Boar in Eastcheap 176 
 
 Interior of St. Katherine's Church by thf. Tower . . .179 
 
 The View of London Bridge from East to West . . . . 183 
 
 The Pool 184 
 
 Burghley House 189 
 
 Ilford Almshouses 190 
 
 Old Tavern 191 
 
 Front of Sir Paul Pinder's House, on the West Side of Bishops- 
 gate Street Without 192 
 
 The Royal Exchange, Corniiill 195 
 
 The Steel Yard, etc., Thames Street, after the Great Fire of 
 
 1666 196 
 
 COLLEGII GRESHAMENSIS A LATERE OCCIDENTALI PROSPECTUS, A.D. I739 I99 
 
 Curious Pump 201 
 
 Newgate 208 
 
 Sign of the Three Kings, Bucklersbury 212 
 
 The Manner of Burning Anne Askew, John Lacels, John Adams, 
 AND Nicolas Belenian, with certane of ye Counsell sitting 
 
 in Smithfield 215 
 
 Old Fountain Inn in the Minories. Taken d<ywn in 1793 . . . 217 
 
 Ancient North-east View of Bishopsgate Street .... 220 
 ^South-west View of an Anc»ent Structure in Ship Yard, Temple 
 
 Bar 221 
 
 Obsequies of Sir Philip Sidney 225 
 
 # 
 
XVI LONDON 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Dr. Shaw preaching at St. Paul's Cross 229 
 
 Old St. Paul's " 230 
 
 Monuments of St. Paul's which survived the Fire (East E.vd of 
 
 the North Crypt) 231 
 
 The Old Bull and Mouth Inn, St. Martin's-le-Grand. Now ptdled 
 
 doivn . , . . . . . . . . . . . 235 
 
 Globe Theatre 236 
 
 Inside of the Red Bull Playhojse 237 
 
 South View of Falcon Tavern, on the Bank Side, Southwark, 
 
 as it appeared in 1805 24i 
 
 Palace of Whitehall in the Reign of James II 248 
 
 Hungerford Market 253 
 
 Cheapside 254 
 
 P'leet Street 255 
 
 Below Bridge 257 
 
 Old East India House 263 
 
 SiON College 264 
 
 John Bunyan's Meeting-house in Zoar Street 265 
 
 Old Grocers' Hall, used for Bank of England 266 
 
 London after the Fire 267 
 
 Old St. Paul's, with the Porch of Inigo Jones 273 
 
 Houses in St. Katherine's, pulled down in 1S27 . . . . 288 
 
 LuD Gate 289 
 
 Davenant's School 293 
 
 St. Dunstan's in the West . . . 297 
 
 Sign 298 
 
 Approach to London Bridge 299 
 
 Above Bridge 302 
 
 St. James's Palace — March of the Guards 305 
 
 Ranelagh 306 
 
 North View of the Marshalsea, Southwark 307 
 
 Charing Cross 309 
 
 A Dish of Tea 313 
 
 Visiting Card 321 
 
 Vauxhall 322 
 
 Sir John Fielding's Court, Bow Street 327 
 
 Concert Ticket 330 
 
LONDON 
 
 I 
 
 AFTER THE ROMANS 
 
 The only real authorities for the 
 events which took place in Britain 
 during the fifth and sixth centuries 
 are Gildas and the Anglo-Saxon 
 ' Chronicle.' There are other writers 
 — Ethelwerd, for instance, who 
 copied the 'Chronicle/ and adds 
 nothing ; and Nennius, whose work, 
 edited by one Mark, the Hermit, 
 in the tenth century, was found in 
 the Vatican. The first edition was 
 published in London in the year 
 1 8 19, in the original Latin, by 
 the Rev. William Gunn. Nennius 
 gives a brief account of King 
 Arthur and his exploits, but he 
 affords little or no information that 
 is of use to us. The work of 
 Richard of Cirencester is extremely 
 valuable on account of its topo- 
 graphy ; it is also interesting as the 
 
 ii^iiilii'i|l'll'''' ^^ work of the first English antiquary. 
 
 But he belonged to the fourteenth 
 century, and has added nothing to 
 the history, of which he knew no 
 • more — less, indeed — than v/e our- 
 selves can discover. The book named after Geoffrey of Mon- 
 mouth is not worth a moment's serious consideration. In Bede's 
 
 B 
 
 STOWK'S MONUMENT, IN 
 AISLE OF ST. ANDREW 
 SHAFT 
 
 NORTH 
 UNDER- 
 
2 LONDON 
 
 'Ecclesiastical History' passages may be found which throw 
 side lights on this period, but they are few. 
 
 Gildas, called Badonicus, is supposed to have been born in 
 or about the year 520, in Wales. A great mass of legend has 
 collected about the name of Gildas. He was the son of a 
 British kinglet ; his three-and-twenty brothers fought under 
 King Arthur. He himself preached, taught, and in the matter 
 of miracles was greatly blessed. He wrote — if he did write — 
 about the year 560, and is therefore contemporary with the 
 events of which he speaks. His book contains a vast quantity 
 of rhetoric to a very small amount of history. Unfortunately 
 for him, he was called by his admiring fellow-monks, in his 
 lifetime, Sapiens — the Wise. Perhaps, in order to live up to 
 this designation, he was fain to assume the garb and language 
 of a prophet, and, with what he thought prophetic force, which 
 we now perceive to be ecclesiastical inflation, he proceeded to 
 admonish princes and people of their sins. Every age, to the 
 ecclesiastical prophet as to the secular satirist, is an age of 
 unbounded profligacy ; of vice such as the world has never 
 before witnessed ; of luxury advanced to heights hitherto un- 
 trodden ; of license, wantonness, riot unbridled and unparalleled, 
 insomuch that the city of Jerusalem, even when under the soft 
 influences of Ahola and Aholibah, was really righteous and pure 
 in comparison. No doubt Gildas lived in a most trying and 
 most disappointing time. Things went wrong, and things went 
 steadily from bad to worse. His people were defeated and 
 driven continually westward ; they could not even hold together 
 and fight side by side against the common enemy ; religion was 
 forgotten in the fierce struggles for life, and in the fiercer civil 
 dissensions. As for the enemy, Saxon, Angle, or Jute, all were 
 alike, in that none had the least reverence for priest or for 
 Church ; everywhere fighting, defeat, and massacre. Yet one 
 cannot but think that a lower note might have been struck with 
 greater advantage ; and now that it is impossible to learn how 
 far the prophet's admonitions brought repentance to his kings, 
 one regrets that a simple statement of the events in chronological 
 order as they occurred was not thought useful or desirable in 
 an historical work. Would you hear how the Sapient addresses 
 kings ? Listen. He is admonishing for his good the King of 
 North Wales — Cuneglass by name : 
 
 * Thou too, Cuneglass, why art thou fallen into the filth of 
 
AFTER THE ROMANS 3 
 
 thy former naughtiness ? Yea, since the first spring of thy 
 tender youth, thou Bear, thou Rider and Ruler of many and 
 Guider of the chariot which is the receptacle of the Bear, thou 
 Contemner of God and Vilifier of his order ! Thou tawny 
 Butcher ! Why, besides thine other innumerable backslidings, 
 having thrown out of doors thy wife, dost thou, against the 
 apostle's express prohibition, esteem her detestable sister, who 
 has vowed unto God everlasting continency, as the very flower 
 of the celestial nymphs ? ' 
 
 In similar gentle strains he approaches, and delicately 
 touches upon, the sins of other kings. 
 
 This kind of language is difficult to sustain, and sometimes 
 leads to contradictions. Thus, in one sentence, the Sapient 
 speaks of his countrymen as wholly ignorant of the art of war, 
 and in another he tells how the flower of the British youth 
 went off to fight for Maximus. 
 
 As regards the alleged luxury of the time, this poor monk 
 wrote from a dismal cell, very likely of wattle and daub, cer- 
 tainly draughty and cold ; his food was poor and scanty ; his 
 bed was hard ; life to him was a long endurance. The roasted 
 meats, the soft pillows and cushions, the heated rooms of the 
 better sort, seemed to him detestable and wicked luxury, 
 especially when he thought of the Saxons and Jutes over- 
 running the ruined country. Of course, in every age the 
 wealthy will surround themselves with whatever comforts can 
 be procured. We are in these days, for instance, advanced to 
 what our ancestors would have called an inconceivable height 
 of luxury. One would like to invite the luxurious Cuneglass 
 to spend a day or two with a young man of the present day. 
 Those who were neither rich nor free lived hardly, as they do 
 to this day, but more hardly ; those who were young and 
 strong, even though they were not perhaps trained to the use 
 of arms, easily learned how to use them, and when it came to 
 victory or death they soon recovered the old British spirit. 
 This is not the place, otherwise it would be interesting to 
 show what a long and gallant stand was made by these people 
 whom it is customary to call cowardly and luxurious — these 
 ancestors of the gallant Welsh.^ It is manifest that a period 
 of two hundred years and more of peace, almost profound, 
 
 ' See T/ie Txvo Lost Centuries of Britain, l)y W. H. Babcock ; Lippincott, 
 Philadelphia, 1890 ; an excellent little work on this subject 
 
 • B 2 
 
4 LONDON 
 
 their frontiers and their coasts guarded for them by the legions 
 of Rome, must have lowered the British spirit. But the people 
 quickly recovered it. The Arthurian epic, it is certain, has 
 plenty of foundation in fact, and perhaps poor King Cuneglass 
 himself, the Bear and Butcher, wielded a valiant sword in spite 
 of his family troubles. The Britons were, it is quite certain, 
 prone to internal dissensions, which greatly assisted their defeat 
 and conquest. But they had one bond of union. Their enemies 
 were pagan ; they were Christian. Gildas addresses a nation 
 of Christians, not a Church planted among idolaters. Christian 
 symbols and emblems have been found everywhere on the site 
 of Roman towns, not, it is true, in large quantities, but they are 
 found ; while, though altars have also been found, and pagan 
 emblems and statuettes of gods, there are no ruins anywhere 
 in Britain, except at Bath, of Roman temples. Their faith. 
 
 ROMAN MARULE SARCOPHAGUS {Guildhall) 
 
 like the Catholicism of the Irish, was their national symbol. It 
 separated them broadly from their enemies ; it gave them con- 
 tempt for Barbarians. The faith therefore flourished with great 
 strength and vigour. But the popular Christianity seems to 
 have been in Britannia, as everywhere, a very mixed kind of 
 creed. As in Southern Italy among the peasants there linger 
 to this day traditions, customs, and superstitions of paganism 
 which the people call the Old Faith, so in Britain there lingered 
 among the people ceremonies and beliefs which the Church 
 vainly tried to suppress, or craftily changed into Christian ob- 
 servances. Such things linger still in Wales, though the 
 traveller regards them not. In the same way the folk-lore of 
 our own time in our own villages is still largely composed of 
 the beliefs and superstitions inherited from our old English — 
 not British— ancestors. What happens is always the same, and 
 must be the same. In times of religious revolution the com- 
 mon folk change the name of their God, but not his nature or 
 his attributes. Apollo becomes the Christ, but in the minds of 
 
AFTER THE ROMANS 5 
 
 the Italian peasants he remains the old Apollo. The great 
 Sun-God, worshipped under so many names and with so many- 
 attributes, remains in the hearts of rustics long, long centuries 
 after mass has been said and the Host has been elevated. 
 Nay, it has even been said that the mass itself is an adaptation 
 of pagan ritual to Christian worship. But the people, whatever 
 their old beliefs, called themselves Christian, and that one fact 
 enabled them to forget their jealousies and quarrels in times 
 
 STATUES OF MERCURY, APOLLO, AND JUPITER OR NEPTUNE : 
 FOUND IN THE THAMES, 1837 
 
 of emergency, and sometimes to act together. They were 
 Christian ; their enemies were pagan. It is significant that in 
 one passage Gildas — who is quoted by Bede — reproaches them 
 for not converting their conquerors, among whom they lived. 
 This proves, if the fact wanted proof, (i) that the Britons were 
 not exterminated by their conquerors ; (2) that they were 
 allowed to continue unmolested in their own religion ; and (3) 
 that they kept it to themselves as a possession of their own, 
 and a consolation in disaster and a mark of superiority and 
 dignity. 
 
6 LONDON 
 
 One thing is quite clear, that when the Roman legions 
 finally withdrew, the Britons were left thoroughly awakened 
 to the fact that if they could not fight they must perish. They 
 understood once more the great law of humanity in all ages, 
 that those who would enjoy in peace must be prepared to fight 
 in war. They fought, therefore, valiantly ; yet not so valiantly 
 as the stronger race which came to drive them out. 
 
 In particular, however, we have to deal with the fate of 
 London, which was then Augusta. Let us first endeavour to 
 lay down the facts. They are to be drawn from two sources ; 
 the first from the meagre notes of the historians, the second 
 from certain topographical and geographical considerations. 
 
 'Ljiuji . i-j-uai 
 
 ^ 
 
 Fjft t i*m M ffammss. 
 
 BRONZE ARTICLES FOR DOMESTIC USE 
 
 The latter have never yet been fully presented, and I believe 
 that the conclusion to be drawn by comparing the double set 
 of facts will be accepted as irresistible. 
 
 The following are the facts related by the Anglo-Saxon 
 Chronicle : 
 
 A.D. 443. This year the Britons sent over the sea to Rome, and 
 begged for help against the Picts ; but they had none, because they 
 were themselves warring against Attila, King of the Huns. And then 
 they sent to the Angles, and entreated the like of the Ethelings of the 
 Angles. 
 
 A.D. 449. Hengist and Horsa, invited by Vortigern, King of the 
 Britons, landed in Britain on the shore called Wippidsfleet (Ebbs- 
 fleet ?), at first in aid of the Britons, but afterward they fought 
 against them. King Vortigern gave them land in the south-east of 
 this country on condition that they should fight against the Picts. 
 
AFTER THE ROMANS 7 
 
 Then they fought against the Picts, and had the victory wheresoever 
 they came. Then they sent to the Angles, desired a larger force to 
 be sent, and caused them to be told the worthlessness of the Britons 
 and the excellence of the land. Then they soon sent thither a 
 larger force in aid of the others. At that time came men from three 
 tribes in Germany^ from the Old Saxons, from the Angles, and from 
 the Jutes. From the Jutes came the Kentish men and the Wight- 
 warians, that is, the tribe which now dwells in Wight, and that race 
 among the West Saxons which is still called the race of Jutes. From 
 the Old Saxons came the men of Essex, Sussex, and Wessex. From 
 Anglia, which has ever since remained waste, betwixt the Jutes and 
 Saxons, came the men of East Anglia, Middle Anglia, Mercia, and of 
 Northumbria. 
 
 A.D. 455. This year Hengist and Horsa fought against King 
 Vortigern at the place called ^gelsthrop (Aylesford), and his brother 
 Horsa was slain, and after that Hengist obtained the kingdom, and 
 -^sc, his son. 
 
 A.D. 456. This year Hengist and ^sc slew four troops of Britons 
 with the edge of the sword in the place which is named Crecganford 
 (Cray ford). 
 
 A.D. 457. This year Hengist and ^sc, his son, fought against the 
 Britons at a place called Crecganford, and then slew 4,000 men. And 
 the Britons then forsook Kent, and in great terror fled to London. 
 
 A.D. 465. This year Hengist and ^sc fought against the Welsh 
 near Wippidsfleet (Ebbsfleet), and there slew twelve Welsh ealdormcn, 
 and one of their own Thanes was slain there whose name was Wippid. 
 
 A.D. 473. This year Hengist and ^sc fought against the Welsh, 
 and took spoils innumerable ; and the Welsh fled from the Angles like 
 fire. 
 
 A.D. 477. This year ^lla and his three sons came to the land 
 of Britain with their ships at a place called Cymensrova, and there 
 slew many Welsh, and some they drove in flight into the wood that 
 is named Andredes-lea. (Probably the landing was on the coast of 
 Sussex.) 
 
 A.D. 485. This year ^^lla fought against the Welsh near the Bank 
 of Mearcriediburn. 
 
 A.D. 491. This year ^EUa and Cissa besieged Andredacester 
 (Pevensey), and slew all that dwelt therein, so that not a single Briton 
 was left. 
 
 A.D. 495. This year two ealdormen came to Britain, Cerdic, and 
 Cynric his son, with five ships, at the place which is called Cerdicsore 
 (probably Calshot Castle on Southampton Water), and Stuf and 
 Whitgen fought against the^ritons and put them to flight. 
 
 A.D. 519. This year Cerdic and Cynric obtained the kingdom 
 of the West Saxons ; and the same year they fought against the 
 
8 
 
 LONDON 
 
 Britons where it is now named Cerdisford (Charford on the Avon near 
 Fordingbridge). 
 
 A.D. 527. This year Cerdic and Cynric fouglit against the Britons 
 at the place called Ardicslea. 
 
 A.D. 530. This year Cerdic and Cynric conquered the Island of 
 Wight, and slew many men at Whit-garan-byrg (Carisbrooke, Isle of 
 Wight"). 
 
 A.D. 547. This year Ida began to reign, from whom came the 
 royal race of Northumberland. 
 
 The conquest of England was now virtually completed. 
 There was fighting at Old Sarum in 552 ; at Banbury in 556 ; 
 at Bedford, at Aylesbury, and at Benson, in the year 571. One 
 
 BRONZE FIBULA AND OTHER ORNAMENTS : FOUND IN LONDON 
 
 would judge this to be a last sortie made by the Welsh who 
 had been driven into the fens. In the year 577 three important 
 places in the west are taken — Gloucester, Bath, and Cirencester. 
 In 584 there was fighting at Fethan-lea (Frethern), when the 
 victor took many towns and spoils innumerable ; ' and wrathful 
 he thence returned to his own.' As late as 596 we hear that 
 the king of the West Saxons fought, and contended incessantly 
 against either the Angles (his own cousins) or the Welsh, or 
 the Picts, or the Scots ; and in 607 was fought the great battle 
 of Chester, in which ' numberless ' Welsh were slain, including 
 two hundred priests who had come to pray for victory. 
 
 It is therefore evident that the conquest of the country took 
 a long time to effect ; not less, indeed, than two hundred years. 
 
AFTER THE ROMANS 
 
 First, Kent, with Surrey, fell ; next, Sussex ; both before the 
 end of the fifth century. Early in the sixth century the West 
 Saxons conquered the country covered by Hampshire, a part 
 of Surrey, and Dorsetshire ; next, Essex fell, and there was 
 stubborn fighting for many years in the country about and 
 beyond the great Middlesex forest. The conquest of the North 
 concerns us little, save that it drew off some of those who were 
 fighting in what afterward became the Kingdom of Mercia. I 
 desire to note here only the surroundings of London, and to 
 mark how, by successive steps of the invaders' march, it was 
 gradually cut off, bit by bit, from the surrounding country. 
 Thus, when Kent was overrun, the bridge gate was closed, the 
 roads south, south-west, and south-east were blocked, and the 
 whole of that country cut off from 
 London ; at the fall of Essex, 
 Norfolk, and Suffolk, the east- 
 ern gate was closed, and that 
 great district was cut off When 
 Wessex was an established king- 
 dom, the river highway was 
 closed ; there then remained only 
 the western gate, and that, during 
 the whole of the sixth century, 
 led out into a country perpe- 
 tually desolated and destroyed 
 by war, so that, by the middle of 
 the sixth century, no more com- 
 munication whatever was possible between London and the rest 
 of the country, unless the people made a sortie and cut their 
 way through the enemy. 
 
 Observe, however, that no mention whatever is made of 
 London in the ' Chronicle.' Other and less important towns 
 are mentioned. Anderida or Pevensey, Aquae Solis or Bath 
 Gloucester, Chester, and many others ; but of London there is 
 no mention. Consider ; London, though not much greater than 
 other cities in the country — York, Verulam, Lincoln, Colchester, 
 for instance— was undoubtedly the chief port of the country. 
 We must not bring modern ideas to bear when we read of the 
 vast trade, the immense concourse of merchants, and so forth. 
 We need not picture miles of docks and countless masts, 
 Roman London was not modern Liverpool. Its bulk of trade 
 
 ROMAN TAVEMENT : LEADENHALL 
 STREET 
 
10 LONDON 
 
 was perfectly insignificant compared with that of the present. 
 When we begin to consider the mediaeval trade of London this 
 will become apparent. Still, it was, up to the coming of the 
 Saxons, a vigorous and flourishing place, and the chief port of 
 the country. Why, therefore, does the ' Chronicle ' absolutely 
 pass over so great an event as the taking of London ? 
 
 Such is the evidence of history. Let us consider next the 
 evidence of topography. We shall understand what happened 
 in London when we understand the exceptional position of 
 London and the dangers to which the city in time of civil war 
 was necessarily exposed. 
 
 We will go back to the beginning of all things — to the lie 
 of the land on which London was planted. The reader, if he 
 will consult that very admirable book, Loftie's ' History of 
 London,' will find in it a most instructive map. It shows the 
 terrain before the city was built at all. The river Thames, 
 between Mortlake on the west and Blackwall on the east, pur- 
 sued a serpentine way, in the midst of marshes stretching north 
 and south. There were marshes all the way. At spring tides, 
 and at all tides a little above the common, these marshes were 
 under water ; they were always swampy and covered with 
 ponds ; half a dozen tributary brooks flowed into them and 
 were lost in them. They varied greatly in breadth, being 
 generally much broader on the south side than on the north. 
 On this side the higher land rose up abruptly in a cliff or steep 
 hill from twenty to five-and-thirty feet in height. The cliff, as 
 we follow it from the east, approached the river, touched it at 
 one point and then receded again as it went westward. This 
 point, where the cliff overhung the river, was the only possible 
 place where the city could have been founded. 
 
 I call it a point, but it consisted of two hillocks, both about 
 thirty-five feet high, standing on either side the little stream 
 of Walbrook, where it flows into the Thames. On one of these 
 hills, probably that on the west, was a small fortress of the 
 Britons, constructed after the well-known fashion of hill forts, 
 numberless examples of which remain scattered about the 
 country. On the other hillock the Roman city, later on, was 
 first commenced. 
 
 Here, at the beginning of the city, was instituted very early 
 a ferry over the river. On the eastern hill the Romans built 
 their forum and basilica, with the offices and official houses and 
 
AFTER THE ROMANS li 
 
 quarters. When foreign trade began to increase, the merchants 
 were obh'ged to spread themselves along the bank. They built 
 quays and river-walls to keep out the water, and the city ex- 
 tended laterally to east and west, just as far as was convenient 
 for the purposes of trade ; that is, not farther than Fleet River 
 on the west, and the present site of the Tower on the east. It 
 then began to spread northward, but very slowly, because a 
 mile of river front can accommodate a great working population 
 with a very narrow backing of houses. When the city wall 
 was built, somewhere about the year 360, the town had already 
 run out in villas and gardens as far north as that wall. Outside 
 the wall there was nothing at all, unless one may count a few 
 scattered villas on the south side of the river. There was as 
 yet no Westminster, but in its place a broad and marshy heath 
 spread over the whole area now covered by the City of West- 
 minster, Millbank, St. James's Park, Chelsea, and as far west as 
 Fulham. Beyond the wall on the north lay dreary, uncultivated 
 plains, covered with fens and swamps, stretching from the walls 
 to the lower slopes of the northern hills, and to the foot of an 
 immense forest, as yet wholly untouched, afterwards called the 
 Middlesex Forest. Fragments of this forest yet remain at 
 Hampstead, Highgate, Epping, and Hainault. All through 
 this period, therefore, and for long after, the City of London 
 had a broad marsh lying on the south, another on the west, a 
 third on the east, while on the north there stretched a barren, 
 swampy moorland, followed by an immense impenetrable forest. 
 Later on a portion of the land lying on the north-west, where 
 is now Holborn, was cleared and cultivated. But this was later, 
 when the Roman roads which led out of London ran high and 
 broad over the marshes and the moors and through the forest 
 primeval. The point to be remembered as connected with the 
 marshes is this : Around most great towns there is found a 
 broad belt of cultivated ground protected by the wall and the 
 garrison. Here the people grow for their own use their grain 
 and their fruit, and pasture their beasts and their swine. London, 
 alone among great cities, never had any such home farm until 
 the marsh was reclaimed. The cattle, which were driven daily 
 along the roads into the city, grazed on pastures in Essex farms, 
 •beyond the forest and tl^ River Lea. The corn which filled 
 her markets came down the river in barges from the inland 
 country. All the supplies necessary for the daily food of the 
 
12 
 
 LONDON 
 
 city were brought in from the country round. Should these 
 supplies be cut off, London would be starved. 
 
 These supplies were very large indeed. As said above, we 
 may set aside as extravagant the talk of a vast and multitu- 
 dinous throng of people, as if the place was already a kind of 
 Liverpool. Augusta never, certainly, approached the import- 
 ance of Massilia, of Bordeaux, of Antioch, of Ephesus. Nor 
 was Augusta greater than other English towns. The walls of 
 
 York enclose as large an area 
 as those of Roman London. 
 The wall of Uriconium encloses 
 an area nearly equal to that of 
 Roman London. The area of 
 Calleva (Silchester), a country 
 town of no great importance, 
 is nearly half as great as that 
 of Roman London. But it was 
 a large and populous city. 
 How populous we cannot even 
 approximately guess. Con- 
 sidering the extent of the wall, 
 if that affords any help, we find, 
 counting the river front, that 
 the wall was two miles and 
 three-quarters in length. This 
 is a great length to defend. It 
 is, however, certain that the 
 town when walled must have 
 contained a population strong 
 enough to defend their wall. 
 The Romans knew how to build 
 in accordance with their wants and their resources. If the wall 
 was built three miles long, there were certainly defenders in 
 proportion. Now, could so great a length be entrusted to a force 
 less than 20,000 ? The defenders of the walls of Jerusalem, 
 which, after the taking of the third wall, were very much less 
 than two miles in extent, demanded at least 25,000 men, as 
 Titus very well knew. Now, if every able-bodied man in London 
 under the age of five-and-fifty were called out to fight, the popu- 
 lation, on the assumption of 20,000 suitable men, would be about 
 70,000. If, on the other hand, the London citizens after the 
 
 BRONZE BUST OF THE EMPEROR 
 HADRIAN : FOUND IN THE 
 
 THAMES {British Mtisezim) 
 
AFTER THE ROMANS 
 
 13 
 
 departure of the Romans could man their walls with only 10,000 
 men, they would have a population of about 35,000. Now, the 
 daily needs of a population of only 35,000 are very considerable. 
 We have, it is true, to supply food for 5,000,000, but the brain is 
 incapable of comprehending figures and estimates of such vast- 
 ness. One can better understand those which have to do with 
 a population of thirty or forty thousand. So much bread, so 
 much meat, so much wine, beer, and fruit. Where did all these 
 things come from ? Nothing, as I have said, from the imme- 
 diate neighbourhood ; chiefly from Surrey and from Kent ; a 
 
 A T5IT OF ROMAN WALL 
 
 {From a photograph by W. 11. Gj-ove, 174 Brompton Road) 
 
 great deal from Essex ; and the rest from the west country b). 
 means of the river. 
 
 London, therefore, with a population of not less than 35,000, 
 and perhaps upwards of 70,000, stood in the midst of marshes — 
 marshes everywhere — marshes all around except in the north ; 
 and there impenetrable forest. It depended wholly for its sup- 
 plies, for its daily bread, for its existence, upon the country around. 
 
 In order to buy these supplies it depended upon its trade of 
 import and export. It was the only port in the kingdom ; it 
 received the hides, the iron, and the slaves from inland and 
 embarked them in the foreign keels ; it received from abroad 
 the silks, the spices, the wines, the ecclesiastical vestments, and 
 ;ill the articles of foreign luxury, and sent them about the 
 country. 
 
 But this important place changed hands, somehow, without 
 
14 LONDON 
 
 so much as a mention from the contemporary records ; and 
 while places like Bath, Gloucester, Cirencester are recorded as 
 being besieged and taken, no word is said of London, a place of 
 far greater importance. 
 
 It has been suggested that the siege of London was not 
 followed by a massacre as at Anderida, and that there was no 
 great battle as at Chester ; but that the place was quietly sur- 
 rendered and the lives of the people spared. This is a thing 
 absolutely impossible during these two centuries. The English 
 invader did not make war in such a manner. If he attacked a 
 town and took it by assaulc he killed everybody who did not 
 run away. That was his method : that was how he understood 
 war. If he pushed out his invading arms he killed the occupants 
 of the land unless, which sometimes happened, they killed him, 
 or, as more often happened, they ran away. But of making 
 terms, sparing lives, suffering people to remain in peaceful occu- 
 pation of their houses we hear nothing, because such a thing 
 never happened until the close of the war, when victory was 
 certain to one side and resistance was impossible to the other. 
 Mercy was not as yet in the nature of Angle, Jute, or Saxon. 
 
 Suppose, however, that it did happen. Suppose that after 
 that great rout of Craysford the victorious army had pushed 
 forward and taken the city, or had accepted surrender in this 
 peaceful nineteenth-century fashion, so entirely opposite to their 
 received and customary method, what would have happened 
 next? 
 
 Well, there would have been continuity of occupation. Most 
 certainly and without doubt this continuity of occupation would 
 have been proved by many signs, tokens, and survivals. For 
 instance, the streets. The old streets would have remained in 
 their former positions. Had they been burned down they would 
 have been rebuilt as before. Nothing is more conservative and 
 more slow to change than an old street. Where it is first laid 
 out there it remains. The old lanes which formerly ran between 
 gardens and at the back of houses, are still the narrow streets 
 of the City. In their names the history of their origin remains. 
 In Garlickhithe, Fyfoot Lane, Suffolk Lane, Tower Royal, Size 
 Lane, Old Jewry, the Minories, and in a hundred other names 
 we have the identical mediaeval streets, with the identical names 
 given to them from their position and their association. And this 
 though fire after fire has burned them down, and since one fire 
 
AFTER THE ROMANS 15 
 
 at least destroyed most of them at a single effort. A Roman 
 town was divided, like a modern American town, into square 
 blocks — znsu/c^ (islands) they were called. Where are the insulcB 
 of London ? There is not in the whole of London a single trace 
 of the Roman street, if we except that little bit still called after 
 the name given by the Saxons to a Roman road. 
 
 Again, continuity of occupation is illustrated by tradition. 
 It is impossible for the traditions of the past to die 
 out if the people continue. Nay, if the conqueror 
 makes slaves of the former lords, and if they remain 
 in their servitude for many generations, yet the tra- 
 ditions will not die. There are traditions of these 
 ancient times among the Welsh, but among the 
 Londoners there are none. The Romans — the Ro- 
 man power — the ferocity of Boadicea, the victorious 
 march of 
 Theodosius, 
 the conver- 
 sion of the 
 country, the 
 now- forgot- 
 ten saints lamps and lamp stand 
 and martyrs 
 
 of London — these would have been remembered had there been 
 continuity of occupation. But not a single trace remains. 
 
 Or, again, continuity of tenure is proved by the survival of 
 customs. What Roman customs were ever observed in London ? 
 There is not a trace of any. Consider, however, the customs 
 which still linger among the Tuscan, the Calabrian, and the 
 Sicilian peasants. They are of ancient origin ; they belong to 
 the Roman time and earlier. But in London there has never 
 been a custom or an observance in the least degree traceable to 
 the Roman period. 
 
 Lastly, continuity of tenure is illustrated by the names of 
 the people. Now, a careful analysis of the names found in the 
 records of the fourteenth century has been made by Riley in 
 his * Memorials of London.' We need not consider the sur- 
 names, which are all derived from occupation, or place of birth, 
 or some physical peculiarity. The Christian names are for the 
 most part of Norman origin ; some are Saxon ; none are Roman 
 or British. 
 
i6 LONDON 
 
 It has been advanced by some, that the municipal govern- 
 ment of the town is of Roman origin. If that were so, it would 
 be through the interference of the Church. But it is not so. 
 I believe that all who have considered the subject have now 
 acknowledged that the municipal institutions of London have 
 grown out of the customs of the English conquerors. 
 
 To sum up, because this is very important. When in the 
 seventh century we find the Saxons in the possession of the city 
 there is no mention made of any siege, attack, capture, or sur- 
 render. When, a little later, we are able to read contemporary 
 history, we find not a single custom or law due to the survival 
 of British customs. We find the courses of the old streets en- 
 tirely changed, the very memory of the streets swept away ; 
 not a single site left of any ancient building. Everything is 
 clean gone. Not a voice, not a legend, not a story, not a super- 
 stition, remains of the stately Augusta. It is entirely vanished, 
 leaving nothing behind but a wall. 
 
 Loftie's opinion is thus summed up (' London,' Vol. I., 
 
 p. 54) : 
 
 Roman evidences, rather negative, it is true, than positive to show 
 that the East Saxons found London desolate, with broken walls, and 
 a scanty population, if any ; that they entered on possession with 
 no great feeling of exultation, after no great military feat deserving 
 mention in these Chronicles ; and that they retained it only just so 
 long as the more powerful neighbouring kings allowed them. This 
 view is the only one which occurs to me to account for the few facts 
 we have. 
 
 And that great antiquary Guest thinks that good reasons 
 may be given for the belief that London for a while lay desolate 
 and uninhabited. 
 
 The evidence seems to me positive rather than negative, 
 and in fact conclusive. London, I am convinced, must — not 
 may — but must have remained for a time desolate and 
 empty. 
 
 The evidence is before us, to me clear and unanswerable ; 
 it is furnished by the Chronicle of Conquest, coupled with the 
 question of supplies. The city could receive supplies from six 
 approaches. One of these, called afterward Watling Street, 
 connected the city with the north and the west. It entered the 
 walls at what became, later, Newgate. The second and third 
 entered near the present Bishopsgate. One of these, Ermyn 
 
AFTER THE ROMANS 17 
 
 Street, led to the north-east, to Norfolk and Suffolk, the great 
 peninsula, with fens on one side and the ocean on two other sides ; 
 the other, the Vicinal Way, brought provisions and merchandise 
 from Essex, then and long afterward thought to be the garden 
 of England. The bridge connected the city with the south, 
 while the river itself was the highway between London and the 
 fertile counties on either side the broad valley of the Thames. 
 By these six ways there were brought into the city every day a 
 continual supply of all the necessaries of life and all its luxuries. 
 Along the roads plodded the pack-horses and the heavy grinding 
 carts ; the oxen and the sheep and the pigs were driven to the 
 market ; barges floated down the stream laden with flour and 
 with butter, cheese, poultry, honey, bacon, beans, and lentils ; 
 and up the river there sailed with every flood the ships coming 
 to exchange their butts of wine, their bales of silk, their boxes 
 of spice, for iron, skins, and slaves. 
 
 In this way London was fed and its people were kept alive. 
 In this way London has always been fed. The moorland and 
 swamps all around continued far down in her history. Almost 
 in the memory of man there were standing pools at Bankside, 
 Lambeth, and Rotherhithe. It is not two hundred years since 
 Moorfields were drained. Wild fowl were shot on the low-lying 
 lands of Westminster within the present century. The supplies 
 came from without. They were continuous. It is impossible 
 to keep in store more provisions — and those only of the most 
 elementary kind — than will last for a short period. There may 
 have been a city granary, but if the supplies were cut off, how 
 long would its contents continue to feed a population-— say of 
 thirty-five thousand } 
 
 Four points, in short, must be clearly understood : 
 (i) London was a port with a great trade, export and im- 
 port. To carry on this trade she employed a very large number 
 of men — slaves or free men. 
 
 (2) If she lost her trade, her merchants were ruined, and her 
 people lost their work and their livelihood. 
 
 (3) The lands- immediately round London ---beneath her 
 walls — produced nothing. She was therefore wholly dependent 
 on supplies from without. 
 
 • (4) If these supplies failed, she was starved. 
 
 Now you have seen the testimony of history. The port of 
 London closed by the ships of the Kentish and the Essex shores : 
 
 C 
 
i8 LONDON 
 
 communications with the country gradually cut off; first, with 
 the south ; next, with the east ; then, by the river ; lastly, by 
 the one gate which still stood open, but led only into a country 
 ravaged by continual war, and overrun by an enemy who still 
 pushed the Britons farther west. There was no longer any 
 trade ; that indeed began to languish in the middle of the fifth 
 century ; there were no longer either exports or imports. When 
 there were no longer any supplies, what happened ? What must 
 have happened ? 
 
 Let me consider the history from a contemporary Lon- 
 doner's point of view. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle is written 
 from the conqueror's view : the prophecies of Gildas take the 
 ecclesiastical line, that misfortunes fall upon a nation because 
 of their wickedness, which is perfectly true if their wickedness 
 leads them to cowardly surrender or flight, but not otherwise, 
 or else the Saxons, whose wickedness, if you come to look at it, 
 was really amazing, would themselves have been routed with 
 great slaughter, and smitten hip and thigh. There are sins and 
 sins. Those which do not corrupt a nation's valour do not 
 cause a nation's fall. 
 
 This is what the man of London saw. It is a hitherto 
 unpublished chapter from the Chronicle of a layman, a British 
 citizen. 
 
 'The Legions left us. They had gone away before, but 
 returned at our solicitations to drive back the Picts and Scots 
 who overran the land (but reached not the walls of London). 
 This done, they went away for good. And now, indeed, we 
 understood that our long security was over, and that we must 
 arise and defend ourselves, or meet with the fate that overtakes 
 the weak and cowardly. They put up for us a wall before they 
 went away, but the wall availed not long. No walls are of any 
 avail unless there be valiant defenders behind. Then the enemy 
 once more overran the country. To them were joined pirates 
 from Ireland. Thus the land of Britain seemed given over to 
 destruction, especially in the North and West. The merchants 
 who traded with these parts were now driven to sore straits, 
 because no goods came to them from their friends, nor were 
 those who were once wealthy able to purchase any more the 
 luxuries which had formerly been their daily food. But in the 
 lands East and South, and that part of the country lying east of 
 the fenny country, the people were free from alarms, and feared 
 
AFTER THE ROMANS 19 
 
 nothing, being protected by the sea on one hand and the fens on 
 the other. So that we in London looked on with disquiet, it is 
 true, but not with alarm. Nay, the situation looked hopeful 
 when our people, recovering their spirit, drove out the enemy, 
 and once more sat down to cultivate the lands. For a few 
 years there was peace, with plentiful harvests and security. 
 Then our trade again revived, and so great was the quantity of 
 corn, hides, iron, and tin which was brought to our ports and 
 shipped for foreign countries that the whole prosperity of 
 Augusta seemed destined to be doubled and trebled. Man}^ 
 merchants there were — wise men and far-seeing — who taught 
 that we should take advantage of this respite from the greed 
 and malice of our enemies to imitate the Romans, and form 
 legions of our own, adding that the island wanted nothing but 
 security to become a great treasure-house or garden, pro- 
 ducing all manner of fruit, grain, and cattle for the maintenance 
 and enrichment of the people. This counsel, however, was 
 neglected. 
 
 ' Then there fell upon the country a plague which carried 
 off an immense number. The priests said that the plague, as 
 well as the Pict and the Scot, came upon us as a visitation 
 for our sins. That may be, though I believe our chief and 
 greatest sin was that of foolishness in not providing for our own 
 defence. 
 
 ' Now we had long been troubled, even when the Count of 
 the Saxon Shore guarded our coasts, by sudden descents of 
 pirates upon our shores. These devils, who had fair hair and 
 blue eyes, and were of greater stature than our own people, 
 carried swords a yard long, and round wooden shields faced 
 with leather. Some of them also had girdle daggers and long 
 spears. They were extremely valiant, and, rushing upon their 
 foes with shouts, generally bore them down and made them 
 run. They seemed to know, being guided by the Evil One, 
 what places were least defended and therefore most open to 
 attack. Hither would they steer their keels, and landing, 
 would snatch as much pillage as they could, and so sail home 
 with loaded vessels, at sight of which their brothers and their 
 cousins and all the ravenous crew hungered to join in the 
 *^port. • 
 
 ' In an evil moment, truly, for Britannia, our King invited 
 these people to help in driving off the other enemies. They 
 • c 2 
 
20 LONDON 
 
 willingly acceded. So the lion willingly accepts the protection 
 of the flock and drives off the wolves. This done, he devours 
 the silly sheep. Not long after a rumour reached the Bridge 
 that the Jutes had arrived in great numbers and were warring 
 with the men of Cantia. This news greatly disquieted the City, 
 not only because from that country, which was rich and popu- 
 lous, great quantities of food came to the City, with grain and 
 hides for export, but also because the fleets on their way passed 
 through the narrow waters between Ruim, which the Jutes call 
 the Isle of Thanet, and the mainland, on their way to Rutupi.ne 
 and thence across the sea to Gallia. The rumour was confirmed, 
 and one day there came into the City across the Bridge, their 
 arms having been thrown away, the defeated army, flying from 
 the victorious Jutes. After this we learned every day of the 
 capture and destruction of our rich ships in the narrow waters 
 above-named, insomuch that we were forced to abandon this 
 route and to attempt the stormy seas beyond the cliffs of Ruim, 
 and the perils of our sailors were increased, with the risk of our 
 merchants, insomuch that prayers were offered in all the 
 churches ; and those who divined and foretold the future, after 
 the manner of the old times before the light of the Gospel shone 
 upon us, came forth again and were consulted by many, espe- 
 cially by those who had ships to sail or expected ships to arrive. 
 The priests continually reproached us with our sins and ex- 
 horted us to repentance, whereof nothing came, unless it were 
 the safety of the souls of those who repented. But while one or 
 two counselled again that we should imitate the Romans and 
 form legions of our own, others were for making terms with the 
 enemy, so that our trade might continue and the City should 
 grow rich. In the end we did nothing. We did not repent, so 
 far as I could learn, but who knows the human heart ? So long 
 as we could we continued to eat and drink of the best, and 
 we formed no legions. 
 
 ' Why should I delay ? Still the invaders flocked over. Of 
 one nation all came — men, women, and children — leaving a 
 desert behind. In the year of our Lord 500, the whole of the 
 east and most of the south country were in the hands of this 
 new people. Now this strange thing has been observed ot 
 them. They love not towns, and will not willingly dwell within 
 walls for some reason connected with their diabolical religion : 
 or perhaps because they suspect magic. Therefore, when they. 
 
AFTER THE ROMANS 21 
 
 conquered the country, they occupied the lands indeed, and 
 built thereon their farm houses, but they left the towns deserted. 
 WhC-n they took a place they utterly burned and destroyed it, 
 and then they left it, so that at this day there are many once 
 rich and flourishing towns which now stand desolate and 
 deserted. For instance, the city and stronghold of Rutupiae, 
 once garrisoned by the Second Legion ; this they took and 
 destroyed. It is reported that its walls still stand, but it is 
 quite deserted. So also Anderida, where they massacred every 
 man, woman, and child, and then went away, leaving the houses 
 in ashes and the dead to the wolves ; and they say that 
 Anderida still stands deserted. So also Calleva Atrebatum, 
 which they also destroyed, and that, too, stands desolate. So 
 too Durovernum, which they now call Cantwarabyrig. This 
 they destroyed, and for many years it lay desolate, but is now, 
 I learn, again peopled. So, too, alas ! the great and glorious 
 Augusta, which now lies empty, a city lone and widowed, 
 which before was full of people. 
 
 * When Cantia fell to the Jutes we lost our trade with that 
 fair and rich province. When the East Saxons and the Angles 
 occupied the east country, and the South Saxons the south, 
 trade was lost with all this region. Then the gate of the Vicinal 
 Way and that of the Bridge were closed. Also the navigation 
 of the Lower Thames became full of danger. And the prosperity 
 of Augusta daily declined. Still there stood open the great 
 highway which led to the middle of Britannia and the north, 
 and the river afforded a safe way for barges and for boats from 
 the west. But the time came when these avenues were closed. 
 For the Saxons stretched out envious hands from their sea- 
 board settlements, and presently the whole of this rich country, 
 where yet lived so many great and wealthy families, was exposed 
 to all the miseries of war. The towns were destroyed, the farms 
 ruined, the cattle driven away. Where was now the wealth of 
 this famous province ? It was gone. Where was the trade of 
 Augusta ? That, too, was gone. Nothing was brought to the 
 port for export ; the roads were closed ; the river was closed ; 
 there was nothing, in fact, to send; nay, there were no more 
 households to buy the things we formerly sent them. They 
 ►lived now by the shore and in the recesses of the forest, who 
 once lived in great villas, lay on silken pillows, and drank the 
 wine of Gaul and Spain. 
 
22 LONDON 
 
 ' Then we of the City saw plainly that our end was come ; 
 for not only there was no more trade, but there was no more 
 food. The supplies had long been scanty, and food was dear ; 
 therefore those who could no longer buy food left the town, and 
 sallied forth westward, hoping to find a placeof safety, but many 
 perished of cold, of hunger, and by sword of the enemy. Some 
 who reached towns yet untaken joined the warriors, and received 
 alternate defeat and victory, yet mostly the former. 
 
 ' Still food became scarcer. The foreign merchants by this 
 time had all gone away ; our slaves deserted us ; the wharves 
 stood desolate ; a few ships without cargo or crew lay moored 
 beside our quays ; our churches were empty ; silence reigned in 
 the streets. Now had the enemy attacked the City there would 
 have been no resistance, but no enemy appeared. We were left 
 alone — perhaps forgotten. The marshes and moors which sur- 
 round the City on all sides became our protection. Augusta, 
 to the invader, was invisible. And she was silent. Her enmity 
 could do no harm, and her friendship could do no good. She 
 was full of rich and precious things ; the Basilica and the Forum, 
 with the columns and the statues stood in the midst ; the houses 
 contained pictures, books, baths, costly hangings ; yet the Saxon 
 wanted none of these things. The City contained no soldiers, 
 and therefore he passed it by, or even forgot its existence. 
 
 ' There came the day when no more provisions were left. 
 Then those who were left, a scanty band, gathered in the Basi- 
 lica, and it was resolved that we should leave the place since we 
 could no longer live in it. Some proposed to try escape by sea, 
 some by land. I, with my wife and children, and others who 
 agreed to accompany me, took what we could of food and of 
 weapons, leaving behind us the houses where our lives had been 
 so soft and happy, and went out by the western gate, and 
 taking refuge where we could in the forest, we began our escape. 
 Mostly we travelled by night ; we passed burning towns and 
 flaming farmsteads ; we encountered hapless fugitives more 
 naked and miserable than ourselves. But finally we arrived in 
 safety at the town of Glevum, where we have found shelter and 
 repose. 
 
 ^ Every year our people are driven westward more and more. 
 There seems no frontier that will stop them. My sons have 
 fallen in battle ; my daughters have lost their husbands ; my 
 grandchildren are taught to look for nothing but continual war. 
 
AFTER THE ROMANS 23 
 
 Should they succeed in reaching our City, the old will perish ; 
 but the young may take flight across the river Sabrina, and even 
 among the mountains of the West — their last place of flight. 
 Should they be driven from the hills, it will be into the sea. 
 And of Augusta have I learned nothing for many years. Where- 
 fore am I sure that it remains desolate and deserted to this 
 day/ 
 
 The writer of this journal, most valuable and interesting — 
 even unique — was not quite right. Not all the inhabitants of 
 Augusta went away. In the city a remnant was left — there is 
 always a remnant. Some of them were slaves. All of them 
 were of the baser sort, whose safety, when cities are taken by 
 assault and massacres are abroad, lies in their abject poverty 
 and in the dens wherein they crouch. These remained ; there 
 were not many of them, because hunger had already driven away 
 most. When the rest were gone they came out of their holes 
 and looked about them, irresolute. Seeing no enemy they 
 hastily shut and barred the city gates and sat down fearful. But 
 days passed, and no attack was made upon them. Then they 
 began to take courage, and they presently bethought them that 
 the whole town was their own to plunder and to pillage. They 
 began, therefore, with great joy to collect together the things which 
 the people had been unable to carry with them — the sacred vessels 
 from the churches and the rich embroidered robes of silk worn 
 by the priests. They found soft stuffs in the villas with which 
 they wrapped themselves ; they found curtains, rich hangings, 
 pillows, cushions, carpets — all of which they took. The carved 
 work and statues, books, pictures, and things which they under- 
 stood not they broke in pieces or burned. They carried off their 
 plunder to the houses on the river-side — the quarter which they 
 chose as handy to their boats in case of an alarm and convenient 
 for fishing — on which they now placed their chief reliance for 
 food. When they found that no one molested them they ven- 
 tured out into the Northern forest, where they trapped the deer 
 and the boar. Their thin veneer of civilisation was speedily- 
 lost : when they had used up all the fine clothes ; when they had 
 burned up all the wood-work in the place ; when the roofs of 
 their houses fell in, they went back to quite the ancient manner; 
 they made a circular hut^with a fire in the middle of it, around 
 which they crouched. They had no more blankets and woollen 
 cloaks, but they did very well with a wild beast's skin for dress. 
 # 
 
24 
 
 LONDON 
 
 Their religion slipped away and was forgotten ; indeed that was 
 the first thing to go. But, which was strange, they had not even 
 kept the remembrance of their ancestors' worship. If they had 
 any religion at all, it was marked by cruel sacrifices to a malig- 
 nant unseen being. 
 
 By this time nothing remained of the old houses but their 
 walls, and these, disintegrated by frost and rain, were mostly 
 ready to fall ; the gardens of the villas, the beautiful gardens in 
 which their owners took so much delight, were choked and over- 
 grown with nettles and brambles ; the mosaic pavements were 
 covered up with rubbish and mould. 
 
 How long did this go on ? For fifty years or more. The 
 rude survivors of Augusta and their children lived neglected and 
 forgotten, like the Arabs in the ruins of Palmyra. Outside, they 
 knew that a fierce enemy roamed the country ; sometimes they 
 
 SEPULCHRAL CISTS, ETC. : FOUND IN WARWICK SQUARE, 
 NEWGATE STREET, 1 88 1 {British Museum) 
 
 could see a band of them on the southern bank gazing curiously 
 at the silent and deserted walls of the City. But these warriors 
 cared nothing for cities, and shuddered, suspecting magic, at the 
 sight of the grey wall, and went away again. 
 
 One day, however, because nothing remains always undis- 
 covered, there came along the great Vicinal Way so tough and 
 strong, on which the tooth of Time gnawed in vain, a troop of 
 East Saxons. They were an offshot, a late arrival, a small colony 
 looking about if haply they could find or conquer a convenient 
 place of settlement not yet held by their own people. They 
 marched along the road, and presently saw before them the grey 
 walls of the City, with its gates and bastions. It was a City of 
 which they had heard — once full of people, now, like so many 
 others, a waste Chester. It was of no use to them ; they wanted 
 a place convenient for farming, not a place encumbered with 
 
AFTER THE ROMANS 
 
 25 
 
 ruins of houses ; a place where they could set up their village 
 community and grow their crops and keep their cattle. The 
 first rush and fury of battle were now over. The East Saxons 
 were at peace, the enemy being either driven away or killed. A 
 single generation of comfort and prosperity had made the people 
 milder in temper. They desired no longer to fight and slay. 
 What, however, if they were to visit the City ? 
 
 The gate was closed. They blew their horns and called upon 
 the people, if there were any, to surrender. There was no 
 answer. No arrow was shot from the walls, not a stone was 
 thrown, not a head was seen upon the bastion. Then they plied 
 their axes upon the crumbling wood until the gate gave way 
 
 ROMAN KEYS (Gtdldliall) 
 
 and fell backward with a crash. Shouting, the men of Essex 
 ran forward. But they soon ceased to shout. Within they found 
 a deserted City ; the walls of what had been stately villas stood 
 in broad gardens, but the houses were roofless, the pictured 
 pavements were broken or covered up, the fountains were choked, 
 the walls were tottering. The astonished warriors pressed for- 
 ward. The ruined villas gave way to crumbling remains of 
 smaller houses standing close together. The streets showed 
 signs of traffic in deep ruts worn by the cart-wheels. Grass 
 grew between the stones. Here and there stood buildings larger 
 than the houses ; they too were roofless, but over the lintels were 
 oarved certain curious emblems — crosses and palm branches, 
 lambs, vine leaves, and even fish — the meaning of which they 
 understood not. Then the men reached the river-side. Here 
 
26 
 
 LONDON 
 
 there had also been a wall, but much of it was broken down ; 
 and here they found certain circular huts thatched. Within, 
 the fire was still burning in the middle of the hut. There were 
 signs of hurried departure — the fish was still in the frying- 
 pan, the bed of dried leaves still warm. Where were the 
 people ? 
 
 They were gone. They had fled in affright. When they 
 heard the shouts of the Saxons, they gathered together their 
 weapons and such things as they could carry, and they fled. 
 They passed out by the gate of that road which their conquerors 
 afterward called Watling Street. Outside the city they turned 
 
 TOILET ARTICLES— HAIR-PINS ; HAIR-PIN (SARINA, WIFE 
 
 OF HADRIAN); BONE COMB AND CASE (CLOAKHAM) ; BONE COMB 
 
 (lower THAMES STREET) 
 
 northward, and plunged for safety into the pathless forest, 
 whither the enemy would not follow. 
 
 When these Saxons found that the walled area contained 
 nothing that was of the least use to them, they simply went 
 away. They left it quite alone as they left the places which 
 they called Pevensey, Silchester, Porchester, and Richborough, 
 and as they left many other waste chesters. 
 
 Then Augusta lay silent and dead for a space. 
 
 Presently the fugitives crept back and resumed their old life 
 among the ruins and died peacefully, and were followed by their 
 children. 
 
 How, then, did London get settled again ? 
 
 The times became peaceful — the tide of warfare rolled west- 
 ward : there were no more ships crossing with fresh invaders : 
 
AFTER THE ROMANS 
 
 27 
 
 there were no more pirates hovering about the broad reaches of 
 the Lower Thames. The country round London on all sides — 
 north, south, cast, and west— was settled and in tranquillity. 
 The river was safe. Then a few merchants, finding that the way 
 was open, timidly ventured up the river with wares, such a? 
 might tempt those fair- haired savages. They went to the port 
 of which the memory survived. No one disputed with them the 
 possession of the grass-grown quays, there were no people, there 
 was no market, there were 
 no buyers. They then sent 
 messengers to the nearest 
 settlements ; these — the 
 first commercial travellers, 
 the first gentlemen of the 
 road — showed spear-heads 
 of the finest, swords of the 
 stoutest, beautiful helmets 
 and fine shields, all to be 
 had in exchange for wool 
 and hides. The people 
 learned to trade and 
 London began to revive. 
 The rustics saw things that 
 tempted them ; new wants, 
 new desires were created 
 in their minds. Some of 
 them went into the town 
 and admired its life, how 
 busy it was, how full of 
 companionship ; and they 
 thought with pity of the 
 
 quiet country life and the long days all alone in the fields ; they 
 desired to stay there ; others saw the beauty of the arts, and 
 were attracted by natural aptitude to learn and practise them. 
 Others, quicker witted than the rest, perceived how by trade a 
 man may live without his own handiwork and by the labour of 
 his brother man. No discovery ever was made more important 
 to the world than this great fact. ' You, my brother,' said this dis- 
 •coverer, * shall continue to dig and to toil, in hot weather or cold : 
 your limbs shall stiffen and your back shall be bent — I, for my 
 part, will take your work and sell it in places where it is wanted. 
 
 STATUETTES 
 FOUND IN THAMES STREET, 
 
 {Guildhall) 
 
28 
 
 LONDON 
 
 My shoulders will not grow round, nor will my back be bent 
 On the contrary, I shall walk jocund and erect, with a laughing 
 eye and a dancing leg when you are long past laugh or sara- 
 band. It is an excellent division of labour. To me the market, 
 where I shall sit at ease chaffering with my wares and jesting 
 with my fellows and feasting at night. To you the plough and 
 the sickle and the flail. An excellent division.' 
 
 Then more merchants came, and yet more merchants, and 
 the people began to flock in from the country as they do now : 
 and London — Augusta being dead — set her children to work, 
 making some rich, for an example and a stimulus — else no one 
 would work — and keeping the many poor — else there would be 
 no chance for the few to get rich. And she has kept them at 
 
 ROMAN AMPHOR.^ 
 
 work ever since. So that it came to pass when Bishop Mellitus 
 —first of the Bishops of London — came to his diocese in the 
 year 604, he found it once more a market and a port with a 
 goodly trade, and a crowd of ships and a new people, proud, 
 turbulent, and independent 
 
 So began, and so grew modern London. 
 
 To the old Rome it owes nothing, not so much as a tradi- 
 tion. Later, when another kind of influence began, London 
 learned much, and took much, from Rome ; but from Augusta 
 ■ — from Roman London — nothing. Roman traditions, Roman 
 speech, Roman superstitions, linger yet among the southern 
 Spaniards, though the Moor conquered and held the country 
 for six hundred years. They linger, in spite of many conquests, 
 in France, in Italy (north and south), in Roumania, in Anatolia 
 
AFTER THE ROMANS 29 
 
 In London alone, of all the places which Imperial Rome made 
 her own, and kept for hundreds of years, no trace of ancient 
 Rome remains. When London next hears of the Eternal 
 City it is Rome of the Christian Church. 
 
 Compare the conquest of London by the men of Essex with 
 that of Jerusalem by Titus. The latter conqueror utterly de- 
 stroyed the city, and drove out its people. One might have 
 expected the silence of Silchester or Pevensey. No, the people 
 crept back by degrees ; the old traditions remained and still 
 remain. Behind the monkish sites are those familiar to the 
 common people. Here is the old place of execution — the 
 monks knew nothing of that — here is the valley of Hinnom ; 
 here that of Kedron. These memories have not died. But of 
 the old Augusta nothing at all remains. Not a single tradition 
 was preserved by the scanty remnant of slaves which survived 
 the conquest ; not a single name survives. All the streets have 
 been renamed ; nay, their very course has been changed. The 
 literature of the City, which, like Bordeaux, had its poets and its 
 schools of rhetoric, has disappeared ; it has vanished as completely 
 as that of Carthage. All the memories of four hundred years 
 have gone ; there is nothing left but a few fragments of the old 
 wall, and these seem to contain but little of the Roman work ; 
 an old bath, part of the course of an ancient street, and the 
 fragment which wc call London Stone. Perhaps some por- 
 tions of the Roman river wall have been unearthed, but this is 
 uncertain. 
 
 One fact alone has been considered to suggest that some of 
 the old Roman buildings remained and were used again for 
 their old purposes. 
 
 In the oldest part of the City, that which lies along the river 
 bank, the churches are mostly dedicated to the apostles. Those 
 which stand further inland are dedicated to local and later 
 saints — St. Dunstan, St. Botolph, St. Osyth, St. Ethelburga, 
 for instance. But among those along the river are the churches 
 of St. Peter, St. Paul, St. Mary, St. Stephen, St. Michael. It is 
 therefore suggested, but with hesitation, that when the East 
 Saxons took possession, they found the Roman basilicas still 
 standing ; that when they became converted they learned the 
 cffiginal purpose of their (Jhurches and the meaning of the 
 emblems ; that they proceeded to rebuild them, preserving their 
 dedications, and made them their own churches. This may be 
 
30 LONDON 
 
 so, but I do not think it at all likely. It is possible, I say, but 
 not probable. 
 
 You have heard the story how Augusta disappeared, and 
 how the East Saxons found it deserted, and how London 
 was born, not the daughter of Augusta at all. Augusta was 
 childless. 
 
 APPENDIX TO CHAPTER I 
 
 The principal Roman buildings consisted of a bridge, a wall, a fort 
 at either end of this bridge, and two ports— Queenhithe and Billings- 
 gate. No one knows when the bridge was built : the wall was not 
 erected until some time between a.d. 350 and a.d. 369. At that time 
 the area enclosed by the wall was covered with villas and gardens. 
 The wall has been traced with certainty, and portions either of the 
 original wall or the mediaeval repairs have been found in many places, 
 and may still be seen above ground. The Roman remains which have 
 been dug up consist of mosaic pavements, sepulchral cists, keys, toilet 
 articles, lamps, fibulae, amphorae, domestic things, and a few bronze 
 statuettes. Nothing whatever has been found to show that Augusta 
 was ever a great city, in the sense that Massilia, Ephesus, Bordeaux 
 or Alexandria was great. 
 
3' 
 
 II 
 
 SAXON AND NORMAN 
 
 The citizens of New London — 
 Augusta having thus perished — 
 were from the outset a people of 
 mixed race. But the Saxons, and 
 especially the East Saxons, pre- 
 vailed. Strangely, it is Essex which 
 has always prevailed in London. 
 The modern Cockney dialect, which 
 says ' laidy ' and * baiby ' for lady and 
 baby, and ' whoy ' and ' hoigh ' for 
 j why and high, is pure Essex : you 
 can hear it spoken all over the 
 
 LONDON STONE, CANNON STREET, ,. . ^ . , ,. , . . , 
 
 AS IT APPEARED IN 1800 country districts of that little-visited 
 
 county : it is a dialect so strong 
 that it destroys all other fashions of speech, even the burr of 
 Cumberland and the broad drawl of Devonshire. Saxon London 
 was mainly East Saxon. But, besides the new owners of 
 London, there was, first of all, some remnant of the scattered 
 Welsh. I do not mean the miserable survivors of Augustan 
 London, found in the place when it was first entered, but those 
 Britons who had taken refuge in the forests of Surrey, Sussex, 
 and Middlesex, and there lived as they could, until they could 
 safely venture forth among their conquerors. Gildas, as we 
 have seen, speaks of these people : and their skulls remain in 
 the Saxon cemeteries to prove how great a Celtic element 
 survived among the English conquerors. Next, there were the 
 foreign merchants. This class formed a considerable propor- 
 tion of the better-class ; and it grew larger every day, because 
 ^he East Saxon was cer^inly not so sharp in affairs as the 
 ' man of Rouen ' ; nor was he in business capacity equal to 
 the Fleming and the German. But as happens, mutatis mu- 
 
32 LONDON 
 
 tandis, at the present day, those who were Flemings and the 
 men of Rouen, speaking their own language, under Ethelred, 
 had all become Londoners, speaking the English tongue, under 
 Henry Beauclerk. 
 
 It was, indeed, a complete revolution in his manners and 
 customs for the East Saxon when he exchanged his village- 
 community for a walled town. Consider : at first he lived retired 
 in the country, farming and cattle-breeding, banded with other 
 families for safety ; he kept up the customs of his fatherland, he 
 carried on no trade, he suffered the old towns to fall into ruin ; 
 his Kinglet had no capital, but roamed about from place to 
 place, administering justice in the royal waggon ; he enjoyed a 
 ferocious and bloodthirsty religion suiting his savage disposition ; 
 he knew only the simplest arts ; he could till the ground, grind 
 his corn, brew beer and mead, and work a little in metals ; his 
 women could spin ; he knew no letters ; he looked for nothing 
 better than ever-recurring war, with intervals of peace and feast- 
 ing ; to die on a battlefield was an enviable lot, because it carried 
 him away to everlasting happiness. Look at the same man four 
 hundred years later. He is now a Christian ; he is, in a way, a 
 scholar ; he is an architect, an artist, an illuminator, a musician, 
 a lawmaker, a diplomatist, an artificer, a caster of bells, a worker 
 in gold and silver ; he carries on fisheries ; he is a merchant ; he 
 builds ships ; he founds trade-guilds — he is as far removed from 
 the fierce warrior who leaped ashore at Thanet as the Romano- 
 Briton whom he conquered was removed from the naked savage 
 who opposed the arms of Cccsar. 
 
 The difference is chiefly due to his conversion. This has 
 brought him under the influence of Rome Ecclesiastic. It has 
 educated him, turned him into a townsman, and made growth 
 possible for him. No growth is possible for any race until it, 
 first, accepts the creed of civilisation. 
 
 London was converted in A.D. 604. This was a hasty and 
 incomplete conversion, executed to order ; for the citizens 
 speedily relapsed. Then they were again converted, and in 
 sober earnest put away their old gods, keeping only a few of the 
 more favourite superstitions : some of these remain still with us. 
 They were so thoroughly converted that the City of London 
 became a veritable mother of Saints. There was the venerable 
 Erkenwald, Saint and Bishop, he who built Bishopsgate on the 
 site of the old Roman gate. There was St, Ethelburga, the wife 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 33 
 
 of Sebert, the first Christian King ; her church still stands, 
 though not the earliest building, close beside the site of the old 
 gate. There was St. Osyth, Queen and Martyr, the mother of 
 King Offa ; her name also survives in Sise, or St. Osyth's, Lane, 
 but the Church of St. Osyth v/as re-dedicated to St. Ben'et 
 Sherehog (Benedict Skin-the-Pig) — you may see the little old 
 churchyard still, black and grimy, surrounded on three sides by 
 tall houses. English piety loved to dedicate churches to English 
 saints — more likely, these, than Italian or French to look after 
 the national interests. Thus there were, in London, churches 
 dedicated to St. Dunstan, St. Swithin, St. Botolph (whose 
 affection for the citizens was so well known that it was re- 
 cognised by four churches), St. Edmund the Martyr, and, later 
 on, when the Danes got their turn, churches to St. Olaf and 
 St. Magnus. 
 
 The Englishman, thus converted, was received into the com- 
 pany of Civilised Nations. Scholars came across the Channel 
 to teach him Latin, monks came to teach him the life of self- 
 sacrifice, obedience, submission, and abstinence. The monastery 
 reared its humble walls everywhere : the first foundation of the 
 first Bishop of London was a monastery. In times of war 
 between the Kinglets — when were there no wars ? — the monas- 
 teries, after the whole country had been converted, were spared. 
 Therefore the people settled around them, and enjoyed their 
 protection. The monastery-towns grew rapidly and prospered. 
 New arts were introduced and taught by the monks, new ideas 
 sprang up among the people, new wants were created. More- 
 over, intercourse began with other nations — the ecclesiastic who 
 journeyed to Rome took with him a goodly troop of priests 
 monks, and laymen ; they saw strange lands and observed 
 strange customs. Some of them learned foreign languages, 
 and even made friendships with the men who spoke them, dis- 
 covering that a man who speaks another tongue is not necessarily 
 an enemy. The Englishman was changed ; yet he remained 
 still, as he always does, whether he creates a new Empire in 
 America, or one in Australia, always an Englishman. 
 
 Meantime the Kinglets made war with each other, and 
 London became a prize for each in turn. It passed from the 
 Cast Saxon to the Northumbrian, to the Mercian, to the West 
 Saxon, as the hegemony passed from one to the other. Each 
 Kinglet learned more and more to recognise its importance and 
 
 D 
 
34 LONDON 
 
 its value. One of the oldest civic documents extant is a grant 
 of King Ethelbald to the Bishop of Rochester. He gives him 
 the right of passing one ship of his own, or of another's, free of 
 toll into the port of London. The toll of incoming and out- 
 going vessels formed, therefore, part of the royal revenue. 
 
 The history of London between 600 A.D. and the Norman 
 Conquest is the history of England. How the City fell into the 
 hands of the Danes, how it was finally secured by Alfred, how 
 the Danes again obtained the City without fighting, and how 
 the Norman was received in peace, belong to history. All this 
 time London was steadily growing. Whatever king sat on the 
 throne, her trade increased, and her wealth. 
 
 The buildings, till long after the Norman Conquest, were 
 small and mean : the better houses were timber frames, with 
 shutters or lattices, but no glass for the windows ; the poorer 
 houses were of wattle and daub. The churches were numerous 
 and small. Some of them were still of wood, though a few were 
 built of stone, with the simple circular arch. The first church 
 of St. Paul's was destroyed by fire, a fate which awaited the 
 second and the third. By the time of Edward the Confessor 
 the second church was completed ; but of this church we have 
 no record whatever. The Saxon period, as concerns London, is 
 the darkest of any. You may see at the Guildhall nearly every- 
 thing that remains of Roman London. But there is nothing, 
 absolutely not one single stone, to illustrate Saxon London. 
 The city which grew up over the deserted Augusta, and 
 flourished for four hundred years, has entirely disappeared. 
 Nothing is left of it at all. The chief destroyer of Saxon 
 London was the great fire of 1135, which swept London from 
 end to end as effectually as that of 1666. Had it not been for 
 these two fires, we should very likely have still standing one or 
 two of the sturdy little Saxon churches of which the country yet 
 aftords one surviving example. Yet London is not alone in 
 having no monuments of this period. If we take any other 
 town, what remains in it of the years 600-1000 A.D. } What is 
 left in Rome to mark the reigns of the eighty Popes who fill 
 that period ? What in Paris to illustrate the rule of the Carlo- 
 vingians ? Fire and the piety of successive generations have 
 destroyed all the buildings. 
 
 For outside show the city of Edward the Confessor and that 
 of the second Henry were very nearly the same, and so may be 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 35 
 
 treated together. The churches burned down in 1135 were re- 
 built in stone, but the houses presented much the same appear- 
 ance. Now, everybody who speaks of Norman London must 
 needs speak of William Fitz Stephen. He is our only authority ; 
 all that we can do is to make commentaries and guesses based 
 on the text of Fitz Stephen. 
 
 He was a clerk in the service of Thomas a Becket ; he was 
 present at the Archbishop's murder ; he wrote a Life of the 
 saint, to which he prefixed, by happy inspiration, a brief eulogy 
 of the City of London. It is far too brief, but it contains facts 
 of the most priceless importance. London, we learn, possessed, 
 besides its great cathedral, thirteen large conventual churches 
 and one hundred and twenty-six parish churches. The White 
 Tower was already built on the east side ; the walls of the City, 
 now kept in good repair, encircled it on all sides except the 
 river ; here the wall which had formerly defended the river front 
 had been taken down to 
 make way for ware- 
 houses and quays : the 
 Royal Palace stood 
 without the City, but 
 connected with it by a 
 populous suburb. Those who lived ' in the suburbs ' — that is, 
 about Chancery Lane and Holborn — had spacious and beautiful 
 gardens ; there were also on this side pasture and meadow lands, 
 with streams and water-mills: beyond the pastures was a great 
 forest filled with wild creatures : many springs of water rose on 
 the North side. The City was so populous that of those who 
 went out to a muster, 20,000 were chosen as horsemen and 
 60,000 for the foot. We will discuss the question of population 
 later on. Meantime one may remark that a force of 80,000 
 always ready to be called out means a population of 320,000 
 at least, which is indeed absurd, especially when we consider 
 that the population of London, as shown by the poll-tax of 
 Richard II., was only about 40,000. 
 
 There were three principal schools, but sometimes other 
 schools were opened * by favour and permission.' We are not 
 told what schools these were ; but there was always a school of 
 •some kind attached to ^ery monastery and nunnery. The 
 boys were taught Latin verse, grammar, and rhetoric ; they dis- 
 puted with each other in the churches on feast-days, especially 
 
 D2 
 
^6 LONDON 
 
 about the ' principles of grammar, and the rules of the past and 
 future tenses ' — truly an agreeable pastime. 
 
 The different trades of the City were allotted their own 
 places of work and sale. Fitz Stephen does not name the various 
 quarters, but they can be easily ascertained from Stow, though 
 the place assigned to each was sometimes changed. Thus, the 
 chief market and trading-place of the City was always Cheap, 
 a broad, open place with booths and sheds for the exposure of 
 wares, on the north and south. The names of the streets lead- 
 ing out of Cheap indicate the trades that were carried on in 
 them. The streets called Wood, Milk, Iron, Honey, Poultry, 
 mark the site of certain markets on the north. Those named 
 after Bread, Candles, Soap, Fish, Money Changing, are shown 
 on the south. Along the river were breweries — of which one 
 remains to this day ; artificers of various kinds were gathered 
 together in their own streets, about the town. This custom of 
 congregation was useful in more ways than one : it gave dignity 
 to the craft and inspired self-respect for the craftsmen, it kept 
 up the standard of good work, it made craftsmen regard each 
 other as brethren, not as enemies : it gave them guilds, of which 
 our trades unions, which think of nothing but wages, are the 
 degenerate successors : and it brought each trade under the 
 salutary rule of the Church. 
 
 There was then — there has always been — a great plenty of 
 food in the City of London : on the river-bank, among the vintners, 
 there were eating-houses where at all times of the day and every 
 day there were cooked and sold meat and fish and every kind of 
 food. Once a week, on Friday, there was a horse-fair in Smith- 
 field without the walls ; at this fair there were races every week. 
 The young men of the City were greatly addicted to sports 
 of all kinds : they skated in winter, they tilted on the water 
 and on land, they fought, wrestled, practised archery, danced, 
 and sang. They were a turbulent, courageous, free and indepen- 
 dent youth, proud of their city and its wealth, proud of their 
 power and their freedom, proud of the trade which came to their 
 quays from every part of the world. What says Fitz Stephen ? 
 
 Aurum mittit Arabs : species et thura Sabaeus : 
 Arma Scythes : oleum palmarum divite sylva 
 Pingue solum Babylon : Nilus lapides pretiosos ; 
 Norwegi, Russi, varium grisum, sabelinas : 
 Seres, purpureas vestes : Galli, sua vina. 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN .37 
 
 The good cleric is a little mixed in his geography. The 
 Arabs certainly had no gold to send ; the Sabaeans were, how- 
 ever, Arabs of Saba, in Arabia Felix ; they sent myrrh and 
 frankincense ; spices came 
 from another country. 
 Why does he assign arms 
 to the Scythians ? Egypt 
 had turquoise mines, but C:^^ 
 no other precious stones, river tilting in the twelfth century 
 The purple garments of 
 
 the Seres, or Chinaman, are silks. Norway and Russia still send 
 sables and other furs, and France, happily, still sends claret. 
 
 The city (Fitz Stephen adds), like Rome, is divided into wards, 
 has annual sheriffs for its consuls, has senatorial and lower magistrates, 
 sewers and aqueducts in its streets — its proper places and separate 
 courts for cases of each kind, deliberative, demonstrative, judicial ; 
 and has assemblies on appointed days. ' I do not think there is a city 
 with more commendable customs of church attendance, honour to 
 God's ordinances, keeping sacred festivals, almsgiving, hospitality, 
 confirming betrothals, contracting marriages, celebration of nuptials, 
 preparing feasts, cheering the guests, and also in care for funerals 
 and the interment of the dead. The only pests of London are the 
 immoderate drinking of fools, and the frequency of fires. To this 
 may be added that nearly all the Bishops, Abbots, and Magnates of 
 England are, as it were, citizens and freemen of London, having their 
 own splendid houses to which they resort, where they spend largely 
 when summoned to great Councils by the King or by their Metropo- 
 litan, or drawn thither by their own private affairs. 
 
 A noble picture of a noble city ! 
 
 Let us consider the monuments of the City. There remains 
 of Saxon London nothing. Of Norman London, the great 
 White Tower, the crypt of Bow, the crypt of St. John's Priory 
 (outside the City), part of the Church of Bartholomew the 
 Great, part of St. Ethelburga's, Bishopsgate : there is nothing 
 more.^ 
 
 The Cathedral of St. Paul's when Fitz Stephen wrote was 
 slowly rising from its ashes. It had been already twice de- 
 stroyed by fire. First, the Church founded by Mellitus and 
 beautified by Bishop Ceckd and King Sebbi was burned to the 
 
 ' See Loftie's History of London ^ Appendix N, * List of Buildings which existed 
 before the Great Fire.' 
 
38 , LONDON 
 
 ground in the year 961. We know nothing at all of this 
 building or of its successor, which was destroyed in the year 
 1086. Bishop Maurice began to rebuild the Church in the 
 following year, but it was two hundred years before it was 
 completed. This Cathedral therefore belongs to a later period. 
 That which was destroyed in 1084 must have resembled in its 
 round arches and thick pillars the Cathedral of Durham. 
 
 The Church and the various buildings which belonged to 
 it in the reign of Henry I. were surrounded by a wall. This 
 wall included the whole area now known as St. Paul's Church- 
 yard, and as far as Paternoster Row on the north side. There 
 were six gates to the wall ; the sites of two are preserved in 
 the names of St. Paul's Alley and Paul's Chain. The Bishop's 
 Palace was on the north-west corner ; the Chapter House was 
 on the south side of the Church ; on the north was a Charnel 
 House and a chapel over it ; close beside this was a small en- 
 closure called Pardon Churchyard, where a chapel was founded 
 by Gilbert a Becket, the Saint's father. This enclosure was 
 afterward converted into a beautiful cloister, painted with a 
 Dance of Death, called the Dance of St. Paul's. Close beside 
 Pardon Churchyard was the Chapel of Jesus, serving for the 
 parish church of St. Faith until the chapel was destroyed, when 
 the parish obtained the crypt for its church. St. Faith's is now 
 coupled with St Augustine's. 
 
 Of the thirteen large conventual churches mentioned by 
 Fitz Stephen, we may draw up a tolerably complete list. St. 
 Martin-le-Grand, St. Katherine's by the Tower, St. Mary 
 Overies, Holy Trinity Priory, St. Bartholomew's Priory, St, 
 Giles's Hospital, St. Mary of Bethlehem, the Priory of St. John 
 of Jerusalem, the nunnery afterwards turned into Rising's Spital, 
 the nunnery of St. John Baptist, Hollywell, the nunnery of 
 Clerkenwell, the new Temple in Fleet Street, and the old 
 Temple in Holborn, perhaps make up the thirteen. I cannot 
 believe that Fitz Stephen could have included either Barking 
 Abbey or Merton Abbey in his list. 
 
 The most ancient monastic foundation, next to that of St. 
 Paul's, was St. Martin's House or College. Why St. Martin 
 was so popular in this country, which had so many saints of 
 her own, is not easily intelligible. Perhaps the story of the 
 partition of the cloak at the gate of Amiens, while the saint 
 was still a soldier, struck the imagination of the people. Cer- 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 
 
 39 
 
 tainly the saint's austerities at Liguj^ would not attract the 
 world. In London alone there were the church of St. Martin's, 
 Ludgate Hill — said to have been founded in very early Saxon 
 times — that of St:. Martin's Outwich, of St. Martin Orgar, St. 
 Martin Pomary, and St. Martin Vintry — five parish churches to 
 attest his sanctity and his popularity. 
 
 St. Martin-le-Grand, sanctuary and collegiate church, was 
 a liberty to itself Here criminals found safety and could not 
 
 CRYPT ; 
 
 REMAINS OF THE COLLEGIATE CHURCH OF 
 ST. MARTIN-LE-GRAND, E.G. 
 
 be arrested, a privilege which lasted long after the dissolution 
 of the religious houses. Among the deans of St. Martin's was 
 William of Wykeham. 
 
 One church only of the whole thirteen still stands. Part 
 of the present Church of St. Bartholomew the Great is that 
 actually built by Rahere, the first founder, in the beginning of 
 the twelfth century. 
 
 The story of Rahere is interesting, but incomplete, and 
 involved in many difficulties. He is variously said to have 
 been the king's giinstrel, the king's jester, a knight of good 
 
40 LONDON 
 
 family, and a man of low origin, who haunted great men*s 
 tables and made them laugh ; nothing less than the comic 
 person of the period ; entirely given over to the pleasures of 
 the world ; in short, the customary profligate, who presently 
 saw the error of his ways, and was converted. The last state- 
 ment is quite possible, because, as is well known, there was at 
 this time a considerable revival of religion. The story goes on 
 to say that, being penitent, Rahere went on a pilgrimage. No- 
 thing more likely. At this time, going on pilgrimage offered 
 attractions irresistible to many men. It was a most agreeable 
 way of proving one's repentance, showing a contrite heart, and 
 procuring absolution. It also enabled the penitent to see the 
 world, and to get a beneficial change of air, food, and friends. 
 There were dangers on the way — they lent excitement to the 
 journey : robbers waylaid those of the pilgrims who had any 
 money, fevers struck them low ; if they marched through the 
 lands of the Infidel, they were often attacked and stripped, if 
 not slain— the plains of Asia Minor were white with the bones 
 of those cut off on their way to the Holy Land. But think of 
 the joy, to one of an inquiring and curious mind, who had never 
 before been beyond sight of the grey old London walls, to be 
 travelling in a country where everything was new — the speech, 
 the food, the wine, the customs, the dress — with a goodly com- 
 pany, the length of the road beguiled by pleasant talk ! Every- 
 body pilgrimised who could, even the poorest and the lowest. 
 The poorest could go as well as the richest, because the pilgrim 
 wanted no money — he would start upon his tramp with an empt}^ 
 scrip. Such an one had naught to lose, and feared no robbers ; 
 he received bed and supper every night at some monastery, and 
 was despatched in the morning after a solid breakfast. When 
 he at length arrived at the shrine for which he was bound, he 
 repeated the prayers ordered, performed the necessary crawl- 
 ings, and heard the necessary masses ; he then returned home, 
 his soul purified, his sins forgiven, his salvation assured, and his 
 memory charged with good stories for the rest of his life. The 
 English pilgrim fared sometimes to Walsingham, sometimes to 
 Canterbury, sometimes farther afield. He journeyed on foot 
 throu'gh France and Italy to Rome ; he even tramped all across 
 Europe and Asia Minor, if he could be received in some great 
 company guarded by the knights of St. John, to the Holy Land. 
 The roads in the eleventh and twelfth centuries were covered with 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 41 
 
 pilgrims ; the Mediterranean was black with ships going from 
 Marseilles, from Genoa, from Naples, to the port of St Jean d'Acre. 
 Even the rustic, discovering that he, too, simple and unlettered 
 as he was, had a soul to be saved, and that it would be better 
 not to trust altogether to the last offices of the parish priest, 
 
 THE founder's TOMB, ST. BARTHOLOMEW THE GREAT, E.G., 
 FOUNDED 1 1 23 
 
 threw down his spade, deserted his wife and his children, and 
 went off on pilgrimage. At last the bishops interfered, and 
 enjoined that no one should be considered and received as a 
 pilgrim who could not produce an episcopal license. It was no 
 longer enough fey a man to get repentance in order to get the 
 
42 LONDON 
 
 run of the road and of his teeth ; and since the episcopal license 
 was not granted to everybody, the rustics had to fall back on 
 what the parish church afforded, and have ever since been con- 
 tented with her advice and authority. 
 
 There was an Office of Pilgrims, which was to be rendered 
 in the following fashion : — 
 
 Two of the second stall, who may be put in the table, at the pleasure 
 of the writer, shall be clothed in a Tunic, with copes above, carrying 
 staves across, and scrips in the manner of Pilgrims ; and they shall 
 have capelli ^ over their heads, and be bearded. Let them go from the 
 Vestiary, singing a hymn, 'Jesus, our redemption,' advancing with a 
 slow step, through the right aisle of the Church, as far as the Western 
 gates, and there stopping, sing a hymn as far as that place, ' You shall 
 be satisfied with my likeness.' Then a certain Priest of the higher stall, 
 written in the table, clothed in an Alb and Amess, barefooted, carrying 
 a cross upon his right shoulder, with a look cast downward coming to 
 them through the right aisle of the Church, shall suddenly stand between 
 them, and say, * What are these discourses ? ' The Pilgrims, as it were 
 admiring, and looking upon him, shall say, * Are you a stranger ? ' etc. 
 The Priest shall answer, ' In what city ? ' The Pilgrims shall answer, 
 * of Jesus of Nazareth.' The Priest, looking upon both of them, shall 
 say, ' O fools, and slow of heart,' which being said, the Priest immediately 
 shall retire, and pretend to be going farther : but the Pilgrims hurrying 
 up, and following him, shall detain him, as it were inviting him to their 
 inn, and drawing him with their staves, shall show him a castle, and 
 say, * Stay with us.' And so singing they shall lead him as far as a tent 
 in the middle of the nave of the Church, made in the resemblance of 
 the Castle Emmaus. When they have ascended thither, and sat at a 
 table ready prepared, the Lord sitting between them shall break the 
 bread ; and being discovered by this means, shall suddenly retire, and 
 vanish from their sight. But they amazed, as it were, rising with their 
 countenances turned to each other, shall sing lamentably, * Alleluia,' with 
 the verse, ' Did not our heart burn,' etc., which being renewed, turning 
 themselves toward the stall, they shall sing this verse, ' Tell us, Mary.' 
 Then a certain person of the higher stall, clothed in a Dalmatick and 
 Amess, and bound round in the manner of a woman, shall answer, * The 
 Sepulchre of Christ ; the Angels are witnesses.' Then he shall extend 
 and unfold a cloth from one part, instead of clothes, and throw it before 
 the great gate of the Choir. Afterward he shall say, ' Christ is risen.' 
 The Choir shall sing two other verses, following, and then the Master 
 shall go within ; a procession be made ; and Vespers be ended. ^ 
 
 ' A hat or bonnet. Du Cange. 
 ' Fosbrooke's Monachism. 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 43 
 
 There was also a Consecration of Pilgrims, as follows : — 
 
 The Pilgrims first confessed all their sins, after which they lay 
 prostrate before the Altar. Particular prayers and psalms were then 
 said over them, and after every psalm (with manifest skilful appropria- 
 tion) the Gloria Patri \ the Psalm, Ad te^ Domine, levavi \ and the 
 Miserere. At the end of these, the Pilgrims arose from their prostrate 
 position, and the Priest consecrated their scrips, and staves, saying, 
 ' The Lord be with you,' and ' Let us pray,' etc. He next sprinkled holy 
 water upon their scrips and staves, and placed the scrip around the 
 neck of each Pilgrim, with other religious services. Afterward he de- 
 livered to them the staff with similar prayers. If any of the Pilgrims 
 were going to Jerusalem, their garments were in readiness, marked with 
 the cross, and the crosses were consecrated, and holy water sprinkled 
 over them. The garments and crosses were then delivered to the 
 Pilgrims, accompanied by appropriate prayers. The service concluded 
 with the Mass De Iter Agentibus} 
 
 Rahere, therefore, anriong the rest, pilgrimised to Rome. 
 Now it happened that on the way, either going or returning, he 
 fell grievously sick and was like to die. As medical science in 
 those days commanded but small confidence, men naturally 
 turned to the saints, and besieged them with petitions for 
 renewed health. Rahere betook himself to St. Bartholomew, 
 to whom he promised a hospital for poor men should he recover. 
 Most fortunately for London, St. Bartholomew graciously ac- 
 cepted the proposal, and cured the pilgrim. Rahere therefore 
 returned : he chose the site, and was about to build the Hospital, 
 when the saint appeared to him and ordered him to found, as 
 well, a church. Rahere promised. He even went beyond his 
 promise — he founded his Hospital of St. Bartholomew, which 
 still exists, a perennial fountain of life and health, and, besides 
 this, a Priory for Canons Regular, and a Church for the Priory\ 
 The church still stands, one of the most noble monuments in 
 London. One Alfune, who had founded the Church of St. 
 Giles Cripplegate, became the first Llospitaller, going every day 
 to the Shambles to beg for meat for the sick poor. Rahere 
 became the first Prior of his own foundation, and now lies buried 
 in his church within a splendid tomb called after his name, but 
 of fifteenth-century work. 
 
 The mysterious part *of the story is how Rahere, a simple 
 gentleman, if not a jester, was able to raise this splendid structure 
 
 # ' Fosbrooke. 
 
44 
 
 LONDON 
 
 and to found so noble a Hospital. For, even supposing the 
 Hospital and Priory to have been at first small and insignificant, 
 the church itself remains, a monument of lavish and pious bene- 
 
 SOUTH AMBULATORY, CHURCH OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW, FOUNDED II23 
 
 ficence. The story, in order to account for the building of so 
 great a church, goes off into a drivelling account of how Rahere 
 feigned to be a simple idiot 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 45 
 
 A great many people every year visit this noble church, now 
 partly restored. Very few of them take the trouble to step 
 round to the back of the church. Yet there are one or two 
 things worth noting in that nest of low courts and squalid 
 streets. Cloth Fair, for instance, still possesses a few of its old 
 timbered and gabled houses. But on the other side a small 
 portion of the old monastery churchyard yet remains, and, in a 
 row of two or three cottages, each with a tiny garden in front — 
 a cottage garden close to Smithfield — survives a memory of the 
 garden which once stretched over this monastery court. 
 
 Some of the other foundations enumerated were only re- 
 cently founded when Fitz Stephen wrote, and rightly belong to 
 Plantagenet London. But the noble foundation of the Holy 
 Trinity, Aldgate, was due to Matilda, Queen of Henry L, who 
 also founded St. Giles's Hospital, besides St. Giles- in-the-Fields. 
 And the Priory of St. John of Jerusalem, the chief seat in England 
 of the Knights Hospitallers, was founded in the year iioo, by 
 Jordan Briset, and Muriel, his wife. 
 
 St. Katherine's by the Tower was first founded by Matilda, 
 wife of King Stephen. This, the most interesting of all the 
 City Foundations, has survived, in degraded form, to the 
 present day. Its appearance when it was pulled down sixty 
 years ago, and as it is figured, was very much unlike the 
 original Foundation by Queen Matilda. Yet the life of this 
 old place had been continuous. For seven hundred years it 
 remained on the spot where it was first established. Matilda 
 first founded St. Katherine's as a Jiospitale pauperum^ for the 
 repose of the souls of her two children who died and were 
 buried in the Holy Trinity Priory. It was to consist of thirteen 
 members— ' Brothers and Sisters.' It was endowed with certain 
 estates which the Society, after this long lapse of time, still 
 enjoys ; the sisters had the right of voting at Chapter meetings 
 — a right which they still retain. The Hospital was placed in 
 the charge or custody of the Prior of Holy Trinity. A hundred 
 years later there was a dispute as to the meaning of the right 
 of custody, which the Priory maintained to be ownership. In 
 the end. Queen Eleanor obtained possession of the place, and 
 greatly increased its wealth and dignity. Under her it consisted 
 of a Master, three Broth^s in orders, three Sisters, and ten 
 Bedeswomen. They all lived in their college round the Church 
 of St. Katherine. ^ueen Philippa, another benefactor, further 
 
46 
 
 LONDON 
 
 endowed the Hospital, adding two chaplains and six poor 
 scholars. Philippa's new Charter, with the building of a splendid, 
 church, raised the Hospital to a position far above the small 
 Foundation of poor men and women designed by Matilda. It 
 now stood within its Precinct of eleven acres, possessed of its own 
 courts, spiritual and temporal, its own law officers, and even its, 
 own prison. Its good fortune in being considered the private 
 property of the Queen Consort caused it to escape the general 
 
 ST. katherine's by the tower 
 
 suppression of the Religious Houses It lived on — albeit a 
 sleepy life — a centre of religion and education to the poor 
 people among whom it was placed. It should have lived there 
 till this day ; it should have become the Westminster Abbey of 
 East London ; but greed of gain destroyed it. Its venerable 
 buildings— its chapel, college, cloisters, and courts were all 
 destroyed sixty years ago in order to construct on their site the 
 docks called St. Katherine's — which were not wanted for the 
 trade of the City. In order to construct docks, in rivalry with 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 
 
 47 
 
 other docks already established, this most precious monument 
 of the past — the Abbey Church of East London, was ruthlessly 
 destroyed. Who would believe such a thing ? The dust and 
 ashes of the nameless dead which filled its burying-yard were 
 carried away and used to fill up certain old reservoirs on the 
 site of which were built streets and squares ; and in Regent's 
 Park they stuck up a new chapel, with half a dozen neat houses 
 round it, and called that St. Katherine's by the Tower. Some 
 day this Foundation, with its income of 10,000/. a year, must be 
 
 sent back to East London . 
 
 to which it belongs. Poor 
 East London ! It had one 
 — only one— ancient and 
 venerable Foundation, and 
 they have wantonly and 
 uselessly destroyed it. 
 
 Everybody who visits 
 London goes to see the 
 Temple Church and the 
 courts formerly trodden 
 by the Templars, now 
 echoing the hurried feet of 
 lawyers and their clerks. 
 Their beautiful church, 
 however, is that of the new 
 Temple. There was an 
 older Temple than this. 
 It stood at the north-east 
 corner of Chancery Lane. 
 It was certainly some kind 
 of quadrangular college 
 with its chapel, its Hall, its 
 
 courts, and its gardens. When the Templars moved to their 
 new quarters, it passed into other hands and ceased to be a 
 monastic place. Some of its buildings survived until the 
 sixteenth century. 
 
 Is the legend of St. Mary Overies too well known a story to 
 be retold ? Perhaps there are some readers who have not read 
 Bie * Chronicles of London f^ridge,' where it is narrated. 
 
 Long years ago, before there was any London Bridge at all, 
 a ferry plied across the river between what is now Dowgate Dock 
 
 INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH OF ST. KATHE- 
 RINE's by THE TOWER 
 
43 
 
 LONDON 
 
 and that now called St. Saviour's Dock — both of which exist 
 untouched, save that the buildings round them are changed. At 
 one time the ferry-master — he appears to have sat at home and 
 taken the money while his servants tugged at the oar — was one 
 Awdrey. There was no competition in the ferry trade of the 
 time, so that this worthy employer of labour grew rich. As he 
 became old, however, he fell into the vice common to rich men 
 who are also old — that is to say, he became avaricious, covetous, 
 
 and miserly ; he suffered 
 acutely from this failing, 
 in so much that he 
 grudged his servants 
 their very food. This 
 miser had a daughter — a 
 lovely damsel named 
 Mary, of whom many 
 young knights became 
 amorous. To one of 
 these she lost her heart ; 
 and, as too commonly 
 happens, to the poorest, 
 a thing which her father 
 could not countenance. 
 The knight, therefore, 
 not being able to get the 
 consent of Awdrey pere, 
 removed to another place, 
 guardingstillthe memory 
 of his Mary, and still be- 
 loved by her. As there 
 was no post in those 
 days, and neither could 
 write, they exchanged no 
 letters, but they preserved their constancy and fidelity. 
 
 Now behold what may happen as a punishment for avarice ! 
 The old man one day, devising a way to save a few meals — for 
 at a time when death is in the house who can think upon eating 
 and drinking .? — pretended that he was dead, and laid himself 
 out with a white sheet over him. Alas ! He was cruelly mis- 
 taken. His servants, learning what had happened, loudly and 
 openly rejoiced, stripped the larder of all that it contained, set 
 
 DOWGATE DOCK 
 
 3(f 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 
 
 49 
 
 the casks flowing, opened the bottles, and began to feast and 
 sing. It was more than the old man could endure. He sprang 
 from his bed and rushed among them — they fled shrieking 
 because they thought it was his ghost ; one, bolder than the rest, 
 stood his ground to face the ghost, and banged the apparition 
 
 ST. SAVIOUR'S DOCK 
 
 over the head with the butt-end of a broken oar, so that the un - 
 lucky ghost fell down dead in real earnest. What happened 
 when they came to bury him may be read in the book above 
 referred to. • 
 
 The miser's fortune thereupon devolved upon his daughter. 
 She immediately sent for her lover, who hastened to obey his 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 LONDON 
 
 mistress. Alas ! on his way the unlucky knight was thrown 
 from his horse and was killed. The girl, distracted by this mis- 
 fortune, founded a convent of sisters at the south end of the ferry, 
 and, taking refuge in her own Foundation, retired from the world. 
 Here in course of time she died. Later on, another pious lady 
 changed the convent of sisters to a college of priests, and very 
 early in the twelfth century two Norman knights, named Pont 
 de I'Arche and D'Ansey, founded here a great priory of which 
 the present Church of St. Saviour was then the Chapel. The 
 
 NORTH-EAST VIEW OF ST. SAVIOUR'S 
 
 Effigy of Pont de I'Arche (or perhaps it is that of his friend 
 D'Ansey) is still to be seen, with no inscription upon it, in the 
 church. The chancel, the two transepts and the Ladye Chapel 
 now remain of the old church with its later additions, and at this 
 moment they are rebuilding the nave in something like the former 
 style. 
 
 * There were in London,' Fitzstephen says, ' a hundred and 
 twenty-six parish churches besides the cathedral and conventual 
 churches.* Whatever the population may have been the City 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 
 
 51 
 
 has never in her most crowded days, when nearly half a million 
 lived within her walls, wanted more churches. A list of them 
 may be found in Strype and Stow. Some of them — twenty-five, 
 I think — were never rebuilt after the Great Fire. Many of them, 
 in these days, have been wantonly and wickedly destroyed. Most 
 of the churches were doubtless small and mean buildings. 
 Fortunately we are able to show by the survival of one monument 
 what some of these little parish churches of London were like in 
 the Saxon and early Norman times. There remains at Brad ford- 
 on- Avon, a little town of Wiltshire, a church still complete, save 
 for its south porch, built by St. Aldhelm in the eighth century 
 There are other partly 
 
 Saxon and so-called 
 Saxon remains. There 
 is the most curious 
 church ot Green- 
 stead in Essex whose 
 walls are trunks of 
 oak - trees — perhaps 
 some of the London 
 churches may have 
 been built in the same 
 way, but it is more 
 probable that the piety 
 of the parishioners 
 made them of stone. ^ 
 The accompanying 
 figure shows the Brad- 
 ford church. It is very 
 
 small ; the plan shows the arrangement of nave, chancel and north 
 porch ; it had a south porch, but that is gone. The walls are of 
 thick stone ; the nave is 25 feet 2 inches long and 13 feet 2 inches 
 broad ; the chancel is 13 feet 2 inches long and 10 feet broad. 
 The height of the nave to the wall plates is 25 feet 3 inches ; of 
 the chancel is 18 feet. The chancel opens out from the nave, 
 not with a broad arch but with a narrow door only 2 feet 4 inches 
 broad— a very curious arrangement. The doors of the south and 
 north porches are of the same breadth. The church must have 
 l^een very dark, but then windows in a cold climate, if you have 
 
 ' Loftie calls attention to the name of our Church St. Mary Staining, i.e. built of 
 stone, as if that was an exceptional thing. 
 
 R 2 
 
 i^ South Porth ^ 
 
 ^//yA..:^l 
 
 Scale, 
 
 PLAN OF SAXON CHURCH, BRADFORD-ON-AVON 
 
52 
 
 LONDON 
 
 no glass, must be as small in size and as few in number as pos- 
 sible. It was lit by a small window in the eastern wall of the 
 north porch, no doubt by another in the south porch, by a small 
 window in the south wall of the nave near the chancel and by a 
 
 / 
 
 M- 
 
 fourth small window in the south wall 
 of the chancel, so placed that the light, 
 and sometimes the sun, should fall 
 upon the altar during celebration 
 of mass. The church was thus imper- 
 fectly lit by four small windows, each 
 with its round arch. The people knelt 
 on the stones ; there were no chairs or 
 benches for them ; the bareness of the 
 church at the present day is just what 
 it was at first. There is no tower. Over the chancel arch are 
 sculptured two angels. Outside the church, at the height of about 
 ten feet, runs a course of round arcades, the only ornament, unless 
 the remains of some engaged pilasters on the inner door of the 
 north porch be counted as ornament. A little new masonry has 
 
 View of Interior, showing very renia 
 able Chancel Arch and Entrance 
 
 SAXON CHURCH, SEVENTH OR EIGF 
 CENTURY, BRADFORD-ON-AVON 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 53 
 
 been added within and two new windows have been cut in the 
 northern wall for the purpose of giving more light. But with 
 these exceptions the church is exactly as it was when Aldhelm 
 reared it and dedicated it to St. Laurence. I do not say that 
 this little church represents all the Saxon parish churches of 
 London, but we may be sure that it represents some, and we 
 know that many of them, even after they had been rebuilt in the 
 twelfth century and after mediaeval piety had beautified and 
 decorated them, remained mean and small. In the matter of 
 Saxon churches we have perhaps fewer existing specimens than 
 we have of the earlier British churches. The Church of St. Mary 
 at Dover, built of Roman bricks and cement ; part of St. Martin's, 
 Canterbury ; and the little Cornish Church of Perranazabuloe 
 belong to that earlier period. But the Church of St. Laurence, 
 in the pretty old town of Bradford-on-Avon, is, according to 
 Professor E. A. Freeman, the one surviving old English church 
 in the land. 
 
 It is impossible to assign a date for the foundation of these 
 churches, but their dedication in many cases affords a limit of 
 period before which they could not have been built. Thus, 
 there are three churches in London named after St. Olave. 
 This King, canonised because, with much good feeling, he 
 left off attacking the English, died at the end of the tenth 
 century. These churches were therefore erected in or after 
 the reign of Edward the Confessor. There are two named 
 after Dunstan, which gives us a limit to their dates. They 
 were built between the canonisation of. Dunstan and the 
 Norman Conquest, because after the Conquest there were no 
 new churches consecrated to Saxon saints. The dedication 
 of St. Alban's may possibly mark the site of a church of 
 Roman time, as may also that of St. Helens, named after 
 Helena, mother of Constantine. But I have given reasons for 
 believing that everything Roman perished and was forgotten. 
 The Churches of St. Botolph, St. Swithin, St. Osyth, St. Ethel- 
 burga, already mentioned, indicate a Saxon foundation. St. 
 Alphege was murdered in 1012, so that his church must have 
 been built between 1012 and 1066. One or two dedications 
 are obscure. Why, for instance, was a church dedicated to St. 
 A^dast ? He was a Bishop*of Arras, who, in the sixth century, 
 confirmed his flock in the faith by a series of miracles quite 
 novel and startling. But who brought the fame of Vedast 
 
54 
 
 LONDON 
 
 and the history of his miracles to the heart of London City ? 
 Traditionally, the two oldest churches in London are those of 
 St. Peter, Cornhill, which claims a Roman origin, and St. 
 Martin's, Ludgate Hill, which is assigned to a certain British 
 Prince Cadwallo. Both traditions may be neglected. In the 
 oldest part of the City, that along the river, the churches, as I 
 have already mentioned, are mostly dedicated to the Apostles. 
 Beside the churches, all the monuments the City had then to 
 show were its wall, its Great Tower, one or two smaller towers, 
 and its Bridge. 
 
 The original building of the Bridge cannot be discovered. 
 As long as we know anything of London, the Bridge was there. 
 For a long time it was a bridge of timber, provided with a forti- 
 
 FIRST STONE LONDON BRIDGE, BEGUN A.D. 1 1 76 
 
 fied gate — one of the gates of the city. In the year 1091, the 
 Chronicler relates that on the Feast of St. Edmund, the Arch- 
 bishop, at hour of six, a dreadful whirlwind from the south-east, 
 coming from Africa — thus do authors in all ages seize upon the 
 opportunity of parading their knowledge — ' from Africa ! ' all 
 that way ! — blew upon the City, and overwhelmed upward of 
 six hundred houses and several churches, greatly damaged the 
 Tower, and tore away the roof and part of the wall of St. Mary 
 le Bow, in Cheapside. During the same storm, the water in the 
 Thames rose with such rapidity and increased so violently that 
 London Bridge was entirely swept away. 
 
 The Bridge was rebuilt. Two years afterward it narrowly 
 escaped destruction, when a great part of the City was destroyed 
 by fire. Forty years later it did meet this fate in the still greater 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 
 
 55 
 
 fire of 1 135. It was immediately rebuilt, but I suppose hurriedly 
 because thirty years later it had to be constructed anew. 
 
 Among the clergy of London was then living one Peter, 
 chaplain of a small church in the Poultry — where Thomas a 
 Becket was baptised — called Colechurch. This man was above 
 all others skilled in the craft and mystery of bridge building. 
 He was perhaps a member of the fraternity called the Pontific 
 (or Bridge-building) Brothers, who about this time built the 
 famous bridges at Avignon, Pont St. Esprit, Cahors, Saintes, and 
 La Rochelle. He proposed to build a stone bridge over the 
 river. In order to raise money for this great enterprise, offerings 
 were asked and contributed by king, citizens, and even the 
 
 CRYPT OR LOWER CHAPEL OF ST. THOMAS'S CHURCH, LONDON BRIDGE 
 
 country at large. The list of contributors was written out on a 
 table for posterity, and preserved in the Bridge Chapel. 
 
 This Bridge, which was to last for six hundred and fifty 
 years, took as long to build as King Solomon's Temple, namely, 
 three-and-thirty years. Before it was finished the architect lay 
 in his grave. When it was completed, the Bridge was 926 feet 
 long, and 40 feet wide— Stow says 30 feet ; it stood 60 feet 
 above high water ; it contained a drawbridge and 19 pointed 
 arches, with massive piers, varying from 25 to 34 feet in solidity, 
 raised upon strong elm piles, covered with thick planks. The 
 Bridge was curiously irregular ; there was no uniformity in the 
 breadth of the arches ; thej^aried from 10 feet to 32 feet. Over 
 the tenth and longest pier was erected a chapel dedicated to the 
 youngest saint in the Calendar, St. Thomas of Canterbury. The 
 
5<5 
 
 LONDON 
 
 WEST FRONT OF CHAPEL ON 
 LONDON BRIDGE 
 
 erection of a chapel on a bridge was by no means uncommon. 
 
 Everybody, for instance, who has been in the South of France, 
 
 remembers the double chapel on the broken bridge at Avignon. 
 
 Again, a chapel was built on the bridge at Droitwich in Worcester- 
 shire, and one on the bridge at 
 Wakefield, in Yorkshire. Like the 
 chapel at Avignon, that of London 
 Bridge contained an upper and a 
 lower chapel ; the latter was built 
 in the pier with stairs, making it 
 accessible from the river. The 
 Bridge gate at the southern end 
 was fortified by a double tower, 
 and there was also a tower at the 
 northern end. The wall, or para- 
 pet of the Bridge, followed the 
 line of the piers, so as to give at 
 every pier additional room. The 
 same arrangement used to be 
 seen on the old bridge at Putney. 
 
 The maintenance of this important edifice was in the hands of 
 
 the Brethren of St. Thomas of the Bridge. 
 
 To build a bridge was ever accounted a good work. Witness 
 
 the lines engraved on the Bridge of Culham : 
 
 Off alia werkys in this world that ever were wrought 
 Holy Churche is chafe — ■ 
 
 Another blessid basinas is briggas to make, 
 
 Whan that the papul may not passa after greet showers, 
 
 Dole it is to drawe a dead body out of a lake. 
 
 That was fulled in a fount ston and a felow of ouras. 
 
 The citizens have always regarded London Bridge with 
 peculiar pride and affection. There was no other bridge like it 
 in the whole country, nor any which could compare with it for 
 strength or for size. I think, indeed, that there was not in the 
 whole of Europe any bridge that could compare with it ; for it 
 was built not only over a broad river, but a tidal river, up which 
 the flood rose and ebbed with great vehemence twice a day. 
 Later on they built houses on either side, but at first the way 
 was clear. The Bridge was endowed with broad lands ; certain 
 monks, called Brethren of St. Thomas on the Bridge, were 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 57 
 
 charged with the services in the chapel, and with administering 
 the revenues for the maintenance of the fabric. 
 
 The children made songs about it. One of their songs, to 
 which they danced taking hands, has been preserved. It is 
 modernised, and one knows not how old it is. The author of 
 * Chronicles of London Bridge ' gives it at full length, with the 
 music. Here are two or three verses : 
 
 London Bridge is broken down, 
 
 Dance over my Lady Lee ; 
 London Bridge is broken down, 
 
 With a gay ladee. 
 
 How shall we build it up again ? 
 
 Dance over my Lady Lee ; 
 How shall we build it up again ? 
 
 With a gay ladee. 
 
 Build it up with stone so strong, 
 
 Dance over my Lady Lee ; 
 Huzza ! 'twill last for ages long, 
 
 With a gay ladee. 
 
 The City wall, repaired by Alfred, was not allowed to fall 
 into decay again for the next seven hundred years. A recent 
 discovery proves that the ditch was more ancient than had been 
 thought. But by the time of King John it was greatly decayed 
 and stopped up ; in his reign a grand restoration of the ditch 
 was made by the citizens. Many fragments of the wall have 
 been discovered dotted along its course, which is now accurately 
 known, and can be traced. One of the City churches has a 
 piece of the wall itself under its north wall. In the churchyard 
 of St. Alphege there remains a fragment ; in the churchyard of 
 St. Giles there is a bastion. To repair the wall, they seem to 
 have used any materials that offered. Witness the collection of 
 capitals and pilasters found in a piece of the City wall, and pre- 
 served in the Guildhall. Witness also the story cf King John, 
 who, when he wanted stones for repairing the gates, broke down 
 the stone houses of the Jews, robbed their coffers, and used the 
 stones for his repairs. When Lud Gate was pulled down some 
 of these stones, with HebPew inscriptions, were found, but I be- 
 lieve were all thrown into the Thames at London Bridge. 
 
 The Tower of London, until William Longchamp, A.D. 1 190, 
 
58 
 
 LONDON 
 
 inclosed it with a wall and a deep ditch, consisted of nothing 
 but the great White Tower, with its Halls and its Chapel of St. 
 John. At the western end of the wall, where is now Ludgate 
 Hill Railway Station, stood a smaller tower called Montfichet. 
 On the opposite bank of the Fleet stood a stronghold, which 
 afterward became Bridewell Palace, and covered the whole site 
 of the broad street which now follows the approach to Blackfriars ' 
 Bridge. The site of Tower Royal is preserved in the street of 
 that name. King Stephen lodged there. It was afterward given 
 to the Crown, and called the Queen's Wardrobe. And there 
 was another tower in Bucklersbury called Sernes Tower, of 
 which no trace remains. 
 
 PART OF LONDON WALL IN THE CHURCHYARD OF ST. GILES, 
 CRIPPLEGATE 
 
 Of great houses there were as yet but few — Blackwell Hall, 
 if it then stood, would be called Bassing Hall — Aldermanbury, 
 the predecessor of Guildhall, was built by this time ; and we hear 
 of certain great men having houses in the City — Earl Ferrars in 
 Lombard Street next to Allhallows, and Pont de I'Arche in Elbow 
 Lane, Dowgate Ward, what time Henry the First was king. 
 
 The water supply of the City until the later years of the 
 thirteenth century was furnished by the Walbrook, the Wells or 
 Fleet Rivers, and the springs or fountains outside the walls, of 
 which Stow enumerates a great many. I suppose that the two 
 streams very early became choked and fouled and unfit for 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 
 
 59 
 
 drinking. But the conduits and * Bosses ' of water were not 
 commenced till nearly the end of the thirteenth century. Water- 
 carts carried round fresh water, bringing it into the town from 
 the springs and wells on the north. One does not find, however, 
 any period in the history of London when the citizens desired 
 plain cold water as a beverage. Beer was always the national 
 drink— they drank small ale for breakfast, dinner, and supper : 
 when they could get it they drank strong ale. Of water for 
 washing there was not at this period so great a demand as at 
 present. At the same time it is not true to say, as was said a 
 few years ago in the House of Commons, that for eight hundred 
 years our people did not wash themselves. All through the 
 
 / »^- 
 
 BUILDINGS OF KNIGHTS HOSPITALLERS 
 
 Middle Ages the use of the hot bath 
 was not only common but frequent, 
 and in the case of the better classes 
 was almost a necessity of life. 
 
 The population of this busy City is 
 tolerably easy to calculate. The astounding statement of the 
 good Fitzstephen that London could turn out an army of twenty 
 thousand horse and sixty thousand foot must of course be dis- 
 missed without argument. Some minds are wholly incapable of 
 understanding numbers. Perhaps Fitzstephen had such a mind. 
 Perhaps in writing the numerals the numbers got multiplied by 
 ten — Roman numerals are hard to manage. If we assume an 
 average of four hundred for each parish church, which, considering 
 that the church was used daily by the people seems not too little, 
 we get a population of about 50,000. In the time of Richard's 
 poll tax, three hundred years later, the population was about 40,000. 
 But then the City had been ravaged by a succession of plagues. 
 
60 LONDON 
 
 The strength of the town, and the power of the citizens, is 
 abundantly proved by the chronicles. In the year 994, Aulaf 
 and Swegen came to fight against London with ninety-four 
 ships ; but * they there sustained more harm and evil than they 
 ever imagined that any townsmen would be able to do unto - 
 them.' Early in the eleventh century the Londoners beat off the 
 Danes again and again. Nor did the citizens abandon their 
 King until he abandoned them. Later on Edmund Etheling 
 had to abandon his enterprise against Cnut because the Lon- 
 doners would not join him. Then there is the story about the 
 body of the murdered Alphege, Archbishop of Canterbury. This 
 had been deposited in St. Paul's Cathedral. Agelnoth, successor 
 to Alphege, begged the body of Cnut for Canterbury. Cnut 
 granted the request, but was afraid — timebat civium inter- 
 ruptiones — to take away the body except by stealth. He 
 therefore caused his huscarles or household soldiers to disperse 
 themselves, and to raise tumults at the gates and elsewhere. 
 While the citizens were running everywhere to enjoy a share in 
 the fight, the body was carried to the river, and placed in a boat, 
 which was rowed in all haste down the river. The townsmen 
 sent out a party in pursuit. And, as everybody knows, William 
 the Norman found it politic or necessary to confirm the liberties 
 and laws of London. 
 
 The house, either in Saxon or Norman time, presented no 
 kind of resemblance to the Roman villa. It had no cloisters, no 
 hypocaust, no suite or sequence of rooms. This unlikeness is 
 another proof, if any were wanting, that the continuity of tenure 
 had been wholly broken. If the Saxons went into London, as 
 has been suggested, peaceably, and left the people to carry on 
 their old life and their trade in their own way, the Roman and 
 British architecture, no new thing, but a style grown up in course 
 of years and found fitted to the climate, would certainly have 
 remained. That, however, was not the case. The English- 
 man developed his house from the patriarchal idea. First there 
 was the common Hall : in this the household lived, fed, trans- 
 acted business, and made their cheer in the evenings. It was 
 built of timber, and to keep out the cold draughts it was after- 
 wards lined with tapestry : at first they used simple cloths, 
 which in great houses were embroidered and painted : perches of 
 various kinds were affixed to the walls whereon the weapons, the 
 musical instruments, the cloaks, etc., were hung up. The Lord 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 
 
 6i 
 
 and Lady sat on a high seat : not, I am inclined to think, on a 
 dais at the end of the hall, which would have been cold for them, 
 but on a great chair near the fire, which was burning in the 
 middle of the hall. This fashion long continued. I have myself 
 seen a College Hall warmed by a fire in a brazier burning under 
 the lantern of the hall. The furniture consisted of benches : the 
 table was laid on trestles, spread with a white cloth, and removed 
 after dinner : the hall was open to all who came, on condition 
 that the guest should leave his weapons at the door. The floor 
 
 CRYPT IN BOW CHURCH, FROM THE NORTH SIDE, NEAR THE EAST 
 END OF THE NAVE 
 
 was covered with reeds, which made a clean, soft, and warm 
 carpet, on which the company could, if they pleased, lie round 
 the fire. They had carpets or rugs also, but reeds were com- 
 monly used. The traveller who chances to find himself at the 
 ancient and most interesting town of Kingston-on-Hull, which 
 very few English people, and still fewer Americans, have the 
 curiosity to explore, shcfhld visit the Trinity House. There, 
 among many interesting things, he will find a hall where reeds 
 are still spread, but no longer so thickly as to form a complete 
 
62 LONDON 
 
 carpet. I believe this to be the last survival of the reed carpet. 
 The times of meals were the breakfast at about nine ; the * noon- 
 meat,' or dinner, at twelve ; and the ' even-meat/ or supper, pro- 
 bably at a movable time depending on the length of the day. 
 When lighting was costly, and candles were scarce, the hours of 
 sleep would be naturally longer in winter than in the summer. In 
 their manner of living the Saxons were fond of vegetables, 
 especially of the leek, onion, and garlic. Beans they also had 
 (these were introduced probably at the time when they com- 
 menced intercourse with the outer world), pease, radishes, turnips, 
 parsley, mint, sage, cress, rue, and other herbs. They had nearly 
 all our modern fruits, though many show by their names, which are 
 Latin or Norman, a later introduction. They made use of butter, 
 honey, and cheese. They drank ale and mead. The latter is 
 still made, but in small quantities, in Somerset and Hereford 
 shires. The Normans brought over the custom of drinking wine. 
 
 In the earliest times the whole family slept in the common 
 hall. The first improvement was the erection of the solar or 
 upper chamber. This was above the hall or a portion of it, or 
 over the kitchen and buttery attached to the hall. The arrange- 
 ment may be still observed in many of the old colleges of Oxford 
 or Cambridge. The solar was first the sleeping room of the 
 Lord and Lady : though afterwards it served not only this pur- 
 pose but also for an ante-chamber to the dormitory of the 
 daughters and the maid-servants. The men of the household 
 still slept in the hall below. Later on, bed recesses were con- 
 trived in the wall, as one may find in Northumberland at the 
 present day. The bed was commonly, but not for the ladies 
 of the house, merely a big bag stuffed with straw. A sheet 
 wrapped round the body formed the only night dress. But 
 there were also pillows, blankets, and coverlets. The early 
 English bed was quite as luxurious as any that followed after 
 until the invention of the spring mattress gave a new and hitherto 
 unhoped-for joy to the hours of night. 
 
 The second step in advance was the Ladies' Bower, a room 
 or suite of rooms, set apart for the ladies of the house and their 
 women. For the first time, as soon as this room was added, the 
 women could follow their own avocations of embroidery, spin- 
 ning, and needle-work of all kinds apart from the rough and 
 noisy talk of the men. 
 
 The main features, therefore, of every great house whether 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 
 
 63 
 
 in town or country, from the seventh to the twelfth century, were 
 the hall ; the solar, built over the kitchen and buttery ; and the 
 ladies' bower. 
 
 There was also the garden. In all times the English have 
 been fond of gardens. Bacon thought it not beneath his dignity 
 to order the arrangement of a garden. Long before Bacon, a 
 writer of the twelfth century describes a garden as it should be. 
 * It should be adorned on this side with roses, lilies, and the 
 marigold : on that side 
 with parsley, cost, fennel, 
 southernwood, corian- 
 der, sage, savery, hyssop, 
 mint, vine, dettany, pel- 
 litory, lettuce, cresses, 
 and the peony. Let 
 there be beds enriched 
 with onions, leeks, gar- 
 lic, mellons, and seal- 
 lions. The garden is 
 also enriched by the 
 cucumber, the sopori- 
 ferous poppy, and the 
 daffodil, and the acan- 
 thus. Nor let pot herbs 
 be wanting, as beet-root, 
 sorrel, and mallow. It 
 is useful also to the 
 gardener to have anice, 
 mustard, and worm- 
 wood A noble 
 
 garden will give you 
 medlars, quinces, the 
 
 pear main, peaches, pears of St. Regie, pomegranates, citrons, 
 oranges, almonds, dates, and figs.' The latter fruits were per- 
 haps attempted, but one doubts their arriving at ripeness. 
 Perhaps the writer sets down what he hoped would be some day 
 achieved. 
 
 The indoor amusements of the time were very much like our 
 n)wn. We have a little m«sic in the evening : so did our fore- 
 fathers : we sometimes have a little dancing : so did they, but 
 the dancing was done for them : we go to the theatres to see the 
 
 INTERIOR OF PORCH OF THE PARISH CHURCH 
 OF ST. ALPHEGE, LONDON WALL, FORMERLY 
 THE CHAPEL OF THE PRIORY OF ST. ELSYNGE 
 SPITAL 
 
64 LONDON 
 
 mime : in their days the mime made his theatre in the great 
 man's Hall. He played the fiddle and the harp : he sangsongs": 
 he brought his daughter, who walked on her hands and executed 
 astonishing capers : the gleeman, minstrels, or jongleur was 
 already as disreputable as when we find him later on with his 
 ribauderie. Again, we play chess : so did our ancestors : we 
 gamble with dice : so did they : we feast and drink together : 
 so did they : we pass the time in talk : so did they. In a word, 
 as Alphonse Karr put it, the more we change, the more we remain 
 the same. 
 
 Out-of-doors, as Fitzstephen shows, the young men skated, 
 wrestled, played ball, practised archery, held water tournaments, 
 baited bull and bear, fought cocks, and rode races. They were 
 also mustered sometimes for service in the field, and went forth 
 cheerfully, being specially upheld by the reassuring consciousness 
 that London was always on the winning side. 
 
 The growth of the City government belongs to the history of 
 London. Suffice it here to say that the people in all times 
 enjoyed a freedom far above that possessed by any other city of 
 Europe. The history of municipal London is a history of con- 
 tinual struggle to maintain this freedom against all attacks, and 
 to extend it and to make it impregnable. Already the people 
 are proud, turbulent, and confident in their own strength. 
 They refuse to own any Over Lord but the King himself: there 
 is no Earl of London. They freely hold their free and open 
 meetings — their Folk's mote — in the open space outside the 
 northwest corner of St. Paul's Churchyard. That they lived 
 roughly, enduring cold, sleeping in small houses in narrow 
 courts : that they suffered much from the long darkness of 
 winter : that they were always in danger of fevers, agues, * putrid ' 
 throats, plagues, fires by night, and civil wars : that they were 
 ignorant of letters — three schools only for the whole of London 
 — all this may very well be understood. But these things do not 
 make men and women wretched. They were not always suffer- 
 ing from preventible disease : they were not always hauling their 
 goods out of the flames : they were not always fighting. The 
 first and most simple elements of human happiness are three — 
 to wit — that a man should be in bodily health, that he should be 
 free, that he should enjoy the produce of his own labour. All 
 these things the Londoner possessed under the Norman kings 
 nearly as much as in these days they can be possessed. His 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 65 
 
 city has always been one of the healthiest in the world. What- 
 ever freedom could be attained he enjoyed, and in that rich 
 trading town all men who worked lived in plenty. 
 
 The households, the way of living, the occupations of the 
 women, can be clearly made out in every detail from the Anglo- 
 Saxon literature. The women in the country made the 
 garments, carded the wool, sheared the sheep, washed the things, 
 beat the flax, ground the corn, sat at the spinning-wheel, and 
 prepared the food. In the towns they had no shearing to do, 
 but all the rest of their duty fell to their province. The English 
 women excelled in embroidery. ' English ' work meant the best 
 kind of work. They worked Church vestments with gold and 
 pearls and precious stones. ' Orfrey,' or embroidery in gold 
 was a special art. Of course they are accused by the ecclesias- 
 tics of an overweening desire to wear finery : they certainly 
 curled their hair, and, one is sorry to read, they painted and 
 thereby spoiled their pretty cheeks. If the man was the hlaf- 
 ord — the owner or winner of the loaf — the wife was the hlaf-dig, 
 its distributor ; the servants and the retainers were hlaf-oetas, or 
 eaters of it. When nunneries began to be founded, the Saxon 
 ladies in great numbers forsook the world for the cloister. And 
 here they began to learn Latin, and became able at least to carry 
 on correspondence — specimens of which still exist — in that 
 language. Every nunnery possessed a school for girls. They 
 were taught to read and to write their own language and Latin, 
 perhaps also rhetoric and embroidery. As the pious sisters 
 were fond of putting on violet chemises, tunics, and vests of 
 delicate tissue, embroidered with silver and gold, and scarlet 
 shoes, there was probably not much mortification of the flesh in 
 the nunneries of the later Saxon times. 
 
 This for the better class. We cannot suppose that the 
 daughters of the craftsmen became scholars of the Nunnery. 
 Theirs were the lower walks — to spin the linen and to make the 
 bread and carry on the housework. 
 
 Let us walk into the narrow streets and see something more 
 closely of the townfolk. We will take the close network of 
 streets south of Paul's and the Cheapside, where the lanes slope 
 ffown to the river. North of Chepe there are broad open spaces 
 never yet built upon ; south, every inch of ground is valuable. 
 The narrow winding lanes are lined with houses on either side ; 
 
 F 
 
 # 
 
66 LONDON 
 
 they are for the most part houses with wooden fronts and roofs 
 of timber. Here and there is a stone house ; here and there the 
 great house of a noble, or of a City baron, or a great merchant, 
 as greatness is counted. But as yet the trade of London goes 
 not farther than Antwerp, or Sluys, or Bordeaux at the farthest. 
 Some of the houses stand in gardens, but in this part, where the 
 population is densest, most of the gardens have become courts ; 
 and in the courts where the poorest live, those who are the 
 porters, and carriers, and lightermen, and watermen — the 
 servants of the Port — the houses are huts, not much better than 
 those whose ruins may still be seen on Dartmoor ; of four up- 
 rights, with wattle and clay for walls, and a thatched roof, and a 
 fire burning on the floor in the middle. At the corners of the 
 streets are laystalls, where everything is flung to rot and putrefy ; 
 the streets are like our country lanes, narrow and muddy ; public 
 opinion is against shooting rubbish into the street, but it is done ; 
 the people walk gingerly among the heaps of offal and refuse. 
 In the wooden houses, standing with shutters and doors wide 
 open all the year round, sit the men at work, each in his own 
 trade, working for his own master ; every man belongs to his 
 guild, which is as yet religious. Here is a church, the church of 
 St. George, Botolph Lane ; the doors are open ; the bells are 
 ringing ; the people are crowding in. Let us enter. It is a 
 Mystery that they are going to play, nothing less than the Rais- 
 ing of Lazarus according to Holy Scripture. The church within 
 is dark and gloomy, but there is light enough to see the plat- 
 form, or low stage, under the nave covered with red cloth, which 
 has been erected for the Play. The actors are young priests and 
 choristers. All round the stage stand the people, the men in 
 leather jerkins — they do not remove their caps — the women in 
 woollen frocks, the children with eyes wide open. When the 
 Play begins they all weep without restraint at the moving 
 passages. In the first scene Lazarus lies on his bed, at the point 
 of death — weak, faint, speechless. He is attended by his friends 
 — four Jews, attired in realistic fashion, no mistake about their 
 nationality — infidels, mecreants — and by his sisters twain, mar- 
 vellously like two nuns of the period. They send a messenger 
 to the new Great Physician and Worker of Miracles, who is re- 
 ported to be preaching and healing not far off. But He delays ; 
 Lazarus dies. His sister goes to reproach the Physician with 
 the delay, wailing and lamenting her brother's death. At length 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 67 
 
 He comes. Lazarus is already buried. The tomb is on the 
 stage, with the dead man inside. Jesus calls. Oh miracle ! we 
 saw him die ; we saw him buried. Lo ! he rises and comes forth 
 from the grave. To the people it is as if the Lord Jesus Himself 
 stood before them ; they have seen him with their own eyes ; 
 henceforth the name of the Lord recalls a familiar form ; ex- 
 perienced persons of dull imagination say that this is not Jesus 
 at all, but Stephen the Deacon — he with the heavenly voice and 
 the golden locks. No, no ; it is not Stephen they have seen, but 
 Another. So, also, some will have it that the man who died and 
 was buried, and rose again, and stood before them all in white 
 cerements, was John of Hoggesdon, Chantry Priest. Not so ; 
 it was Lazarus — none other. Lazarus, now no doubt a blessed 
 saint, with his two sisters, Martha and Mary. Why ! it must 
 have been Lazarus, because, after the miracle, he called upon the 
 people to mark the wondrous works of the Lord, and sang the 
 Magnificat so that the psalm echoed in the roof and rolled above 
 the pillars. He sang that psalm out of pure gratitude — you 
 could see the tears rolling down his cheeks — and in worship and 
 adoration — Lazarus himself — he who had been dead and had 
 come to life again. 
 
 The Mystery is over ; the people have all gone away ; the 
 stage is removed, and the church is empty again. Two priests 
 are left, and their talk is like a jarring note after sweet music. 
 * Brother, says one, * were it not for such shows as these — if we 
 did not present to the people the things which belong to religion 
 in such a way that the dullest can understand — the Church 
 would be in a parlous way. All folk cry out upon the pro- 
 fligacy of the monks, and their luxury, and the greed of the 
 priests. What sayeth Walter Map, that good archdeacon ? 
 
 ' " Omnis a clericis fluit enormitas, 
 Cum Deo debeant mantes sollicitas, 
 Tractant negotia mercesque vetitas 
 Et rerum turpium vices indebitas."' 
 
 ' I hear,' said the other, * that two Cistercians have lately 
 become apostate to the Jews.' 
 
 'Rather,' replied the first, ' they should have become Chris- 
 tians, so to separate themselves the better from that accursed 
 body.' 
 
 These are the /iistant rumblings of the gathering storm 
 
 F 2 
 
68 LONDON 
 
 But the Chuich will become much richer, much more power- 
 ful, the monks will become much more profligate, the priests 
 will become far more greedy before things grow to be intole- 
 rable. 
 
 It is an evening in May. What means this procession ? 
 Here comes a sturdy rogue marching along valiantly, blow- 
 ing pipe and beating tabor. After him, a rabble rout of lads 
 and young men, wearing flowers in their caps, and bearing 
 branches and singing lustily. This is what they sing, not quite 
 in these words, but very nearly : — 
 
 Sumer is icumen in, 
 
 Lhude sing cuccu ! 
 Groweth sed and bloweth med, 
 
 And springth the wde nu. 
 Sing cuccu. 
 
 Awe bleteth after lamb, 
 
 Llouth after calve cu, 
 Bulluc sterteth, buck verteth, 
 
 Murie sing cuccu! 
 
 Cuccu, cuccu, well singeth thu cuccu 
 
 Ne swik thu navu nu ; 
 Sing cuccu, cuccu, nu sing cuccu, 
 
 Sing cuccu, sing cuccu, nu ! 
 
 The workman jumps up and shouts as they go past ; the 
 priest and the friar laugh and shout ; the girls, gathering 
 together as is the maidens' way, laugh and clap their hands. 
 The young men sing as they go and dance as they sing. 
 Spring has come back again — sing cuckoo ; the days of light 
 and warmth — sing cuckoo ; the time of feasting and of love 
 — sing cuckoo. The proud abbot, with his following, draws 
 rein to let them pass, and laughs to see them— he is, you see, 
 a man first and a monk afterwards. In the gateway of his 
 great house stands the Norman earl with his livery. He waits 
 to let the London youth go by. The earl scorns the English 
 youth no longer ; he knows their lustihood. He can even 
 understand their speech. He sends out largesse to the lads to 
 be spent in the good wines of Gascony and of Spain ; he 
 joins in the singing ; he waves his hand, a brotherlj' hand, as 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 69 
 
 the floral greenery passes along; he sings with them at the 
 top of his voice — 
 
 Sing cuccu — cuccu — nu sing cuccu; 
 Sing cuccu ; sing cuccu, nu. 
 
 Presently the evening falls. It is light till past eight ; the 
 days are long. At nightfall, in summer, the people go to 
 bed. In the great houses they assemble in the hall ; in 
 winter they would listen to music and the telling of stories, 
 even the legends of King Arthur. Walter Map ^ will collect 
 them and arrange them, and the French romances, such as 
 * Amis et Amils,' ' Aucassin et Nicolette,' though these have 
 not yet been written down. In summer they have music 
 before they go to bed. We are in a city that has always 
 been fond of music. The noise of crowd and pipe, tabor and 
 cithern, is now silent in the streets. Rich men kept their 
 own musicians. What said Bishop Grossetete ? 
 
 Next hys chamber, besyde hys study, 
 Hys harper's chamber was fast ther by. 
 Many tymes, by nightes and dayes, 
 He hade solace of notes and layes. 
 One asked him the resun why 
 He hadde delyte in minstrelsy ? 
 He answered hym on thys manere 
 Why he helde the harpe so dere : 
 
 The virtu of the harpe thurh skill and right 
 Wyll destrye the fendys myght, 
 And to the cros by gode skeyl 
 Ys the harpe lykened weyl. 
 
 He who looks and listens for the voice of the people in 
 these ancient times hears no more than a confused murmur : 
 one sees a swarm working like ants : a bell rings : they knock 
 off work : another bell : they run together : they shout : they 
 wave their hats : the listener, however, hears no words. It 
 is difficult in any age — even in the present day — to learn or 
 understand what the bas pcuple think and what they desire. 
 They want few things indeed in every generation ; only, as 
 1 said above, the three efements of freedom, health, and just 
 pay. Give them these three and they will grumble no longer. 
 
 * Marley's English Writers^ vol. i. p. 760. 
 
70 
 
 LONDON 
 
 When a poet puts one of them on his stage and makes him 
 act and makes him speak, we learn the multitude from the 
 
 THE ARMS AND SEAT.S OF THE PRIOR AND CONVENT OF ST. SAVIOU] 
 AT BERMONDSEY 
 
 type. Later on, after Chaucer and Piers Ploughman have 
 spoken, we know the people better — as yet we guess at them, 
 
SAXON AND NORMAN 71 
 
 we do not even know them in part. Observe, however, one 
 thing about London — a thing of great significance. When 
 there is a Jacquerie — when the people, who have hitherto 
 been as silent as the patient ox, rise with a wild roar of rage 
 — // is not in London. Here, men have learned — however 
 imperfectly — the lesson that only by combination of all for the 
 general welfare, is the common weal advanced. I think, also, 
 that London men, even those on the lowest levels, have 
 always known very well that their humility of place is due 
 to their own lack of purpose and self-restraint. The air of 
 London has always been charged with the traditions and 
 histories of those who have raised themselves : there never has 
 been a city more generous to her children, more ready to 
 hold out a helping hand : this we shall see illustrated later on : 
 at present all is beginning. The elementary three conditions 
 are felt, but not yet put into words. 
 
 We are at present in the boyhood of a city which after a 
 thousand years is still in its strong and vigorous manhood, 
 showing no sign, not the least sign, of senility or decay. Rather 
 does it appear like a city in its first spring of eager youth. 
 But the real work for Saxon and Norman London lies before. 
 It is to come. It is a work which is to be the making of 
 Great Britain and of America, Australia, and the Isles. It is 
 the work of building up, defending, and consolidating the 
 liberties of the Anglo-Saxon race. 
 
 They were not wretched at all, these early London citizens, 
 but on the contrary, joyous and happy and hopeful. And not 
 only for the reasons already stated, but for the great fact — 
 the greatest fact of the time — of their blind and unreasoning 
 faith. It is impossible to exaggerate the importance of un- 
 reasoning faith as a factor in human happiness. The life of the 
 meanest man was full of dignity and of splendour, because of 
 the great inheritance assured to him by the Church. We must 
 never leave out the Church in speaking of the past. We must 
 never forget that all people, save here and there a doubting 
 Rufus or a questioning Prince of Anjou, believed without the 
 shadow of any doubt. Knowledge brought the power of ques- 
 ^tioning. As yet there was no knowledge. Therefore every 
 man's life, however miserable, was, to his happy ignorance 
 the certain ante-room of heaven. We are fond of dwelling 
 on the mediaeval hell, the stupidity and the brutality of 
 
72 LONDON 
 
 its endless torture, and the selfishness of buying salvation by 
 masses. Hell, my friends, was always meant for the other man. 
 He who saw the devils painted on the church wall, rending, 
 tearing, frying, cutting, burning the poor souls in hell, knew 
 these souls for those of his enemies. Like Dante, he saw among 
 them all his public and his private foes. He looked upward 
 for his hope. There he beheld loving angels bearing aloft in 
 their soft atms the soul redeemed to the abode of perfect bliss. 
 In that soul he recognised himself; he saw the portraiture, exact 
 and lifelike, of his own features. 
 
 When the ambassadors of the Caliph Haroun al Raschid 
 brought gifts to the great King Karl, the finest thing he had to 
 show them was the splendid service of the Church. 
 
 This story is told literally. It might be told as an allegory. 
 In London Saxon and Norman, as also for many centuries to 
 follow, the finest thing they had to show was the Church, with 
 its music that moved the heart to tears ; its promises, which 
 steeled the soul to endurance ; its glories, which carried the 
 beholder far away from the wattle and clay of his hut and his 
 grimy leathern doublet ; its frown, which stood between him 
 and the tyrannous Over Lord, and saved his home from starva- 
 tion and his womankind from dishonour. Fortunate was it for 
 the people that they had the Church to show to those ambassa- 
 dors of the Moslem. 
 
73 
 
 III 
 PLANTAGENET 
 
 I. ECCLESIASTICAL 
 
 Prince Pantagruel and his companions, 
 pursuing their incomparable voyage, sailed 
 three days and three nights without dis- 
 covering anything, and on the fourth day 
 made land. The Pilot told them that it was 
 the Ringing Island, and, indeed, they heard 
 afar off a kind of a confused and oft-repeated 
 noise, that seemed at a distance not unlike 
 the sound of great, middle-sized, and little 
 bells rung all at once. 
 
 Commentators have been much exercised 
 as to the city which the great Master of 
 Allegory had in view when he described Vile 
 Sonnante. Foolish commentators! As if even 
 a small master of allegory, much less the great and illustrious 
 Alcofribas Nasier,could,or would, mean anyone town in particular! 
 One might as well search for the man whose portrait he painted 
 and called Panurge. He described all towns. For, in truth, every 
 mediaeval city was an lie Sonnante, and the greater, the richer, 
 the more populous, the more powerful was the city, the louder 
 and the more frequent were the jinglings and the janglings, the 
 sonorous clang and the melodious peal, the chimings and the 
 strikings, the music and the jarring of the thousand Bells. They 
 rang all day long ; they rang from the great Cathedral and from 
 the little Parish Church ; from the stately monastery, the nun- 
 •nery, the College of Prieste, the Spital, the Chantry, the Chapel 
 and the Hermitage. They rang for Festivals, for Fasts, for 
 Pageants, for Processions, for Births, Marriages and Funerals ; 
 
74 LONDON 
 
 for the election of city officers, for Coronations, for Victories and 
 for daily service ; they rang to mark the day and the hour ; they 
 rang in the baby ; they rang out the passing soul ; they rang for 
 the bride; they rang in memory of the dead; they rang for 
 work to begin and for work to cease ; they rang to exhort, to 
 admonish, to console. 
 
 With their ringing the city was never quiet. Four miles out 
 of London, the sound of the Bells rang in the ears of the down- 
 cast 'prentice boy who sat upon the green slopes of Highgate : 
 the chimes of Bow struck merrily upon his ear above the tin- 
 kling of the sheep bell, the carol of the lark, and the song of the 
 thrush. To him they brought a promise and a hope. What 
 they brought to the busy folk in the streets I know not, but 
 since they were a folk of robust nerves, the musical, rolling, 
 melodious, clashing, joyous ringing of bells certainly brought for 
 the most part a sense of elation, hope and companionship. So, 
 in this our later day, the multitudinous tripper, or the Hallelujah 
 lad, is not happy unless he can make, as he goes — music — loud 
 music, in the train and on the sands. So, again, those who 
 march in procession do not feel complete without a braying band 
 with drums great and small, banging and beating and roaring 
 an accompaniment to the mottoes on their banners, and uplift- 
 ing the souls of the champions who are about to harangue the 
 multitude. 
 
 The Ik Sonnante of Rabelais may have been Paris — of course 
 it was Paris ; it may have been Avignon — there is not the least 
 doubt that it was Avignon ; it may also have been London — ■ 
 there can be no manner of question on that point. Rabelais 
 never saw London ; but so loud was the jingle-jangle of the 
 City bells that they smote upon his ear while he was beginning 
 that unfinished book of his and inspired the first chapters. 
 London, without a doubt, London, and no other, is the true lie 
 Sonnante. 
 
 Of Plantagenet London there is much to be said and written. 
 Place a VEglise ! It was a time when the Church covered all. 
 Faith unquestioning seemed to have produced its full effect. 
 The promised Kingdom, according to eyes ecclesiastic, was 
 already amongst us. What could be better for the world than 
 that it should be ruled absolutely by the Vicar of Christ ? Yet 
 the full effect of this rule proved in the event not quite what might 
 have been expected. 
 
PLANTAGENET 75 
 
 In London, says an observant Frenchman, there is no street 
 without a church and a tree. He speaks of modern London. 
 Of London in the thirteenth century, there was no street without 
 its monastery, its convent garden, its College of Priests, its 
 Canons Regular, its Friars, its Pardoners, its sextons and its 
 serving brothers, and this without counting its hundred and 
 twenty parish churches, each with its priests, its chantries, its 
 fraternities, and its churchyard. The Church was everywhere ; 
 it played not only an important part in the daily life, but the 
 most important part. Not even the most rigid Puritan demanded 
 of the world so much of its daily life and so great a share of its 
 revenues as the Church of the Middle Ages. There were already 
 whispered and murmured questions, but the day of revolt was 
 still two hundred long years ahead. Meantime the Church 
 reigned and ruled, and no man yet dared disobey. 
 
 Let us consider, therefore, as the most conspicuous feature of 
 Plantagenet London, her great religious Houses. We have seen 
 what they were in Norman London. Already there were there 
 in existence the Cathedral of St. Paul's, with its canons and 
 priests, its army of singing men, clerks, boys and servants — 
 itself a vast monastic House ; the Priory of St. Bartholomew ; 
 the House of St. Mary Overies ; the Hospital of St. Katherine ; 
 the Priory of the Holy Trinity. After three hundred years, 
 when we look again upon the map of London, and mark in colour 
 the sites of Monastery, Nunnery, Church, College, and Church- 
 yard, it seems as if a good fourth part of the City area was 
 swallowed up in ecclesiastical Houses. Not so much was 
 actually covered by buildings of the Church, but at least a fourth 
 of the City, counting the gardens and the courts and chapels, 
 belonged to the Church and the religious Houses. Without 
 such a map it is impossible to estimate the enormous wealth of 
 the mediaeval Church, its power and its authority. It is impos- 
 sible to understand without such a map how enormous was that 
 Revolution which could shake off and shatter into fragments a 
 power so tremendous. Because, as was London, so was every 
 other city. If London had a hundred and twenty churches, 
 Norwich had sixty ; York had forty-five. If the country all 
 round London was parcelled out among the religious Houses, so 
 all over the land, manor^ here, and estates there, broad acres 
 everywhere belonged to the monks. But though their property 
 was enormous, their power was far beyond that conferred by 
 
/6 LONDON 
 
 any amount of property, for they held the keys of heaven and 
 kept open the gates of hell. 
 
 As for the vast numbers actually maintained by the Church, 
 the single example of St. Paul's Cathedral— of course, the 
 largest foundation in the City — will furnish an illustration. In 
 the year 1450 the Society, a Cathedral body, included the fol- 
 lowing : the Bishop, the Dean, the four Archdeacons, the Trea- 
 surer, the Precentor, the Chancellor, thirty greater Canons, twelve 
 lesser Canons, about fifty Chaplains or chantry priests, and thirty 
 Vicars. Of inferior rank to these were the Sacrist and three 
 Vergers, the Succentor, the Master of the Singing- school, the 
 Master of the Grammar-school, the Almoner and his four 
 Vergers, the Servitors, the Surveyor, the twelve Scribes, the 
 Book Transcriber, the Book- binder, the Chamberlain, the Rent- 
 Collector, the Baker, the Brewer, the singing men and choir 
 boys, of whom priests were made, the Bedesmen and the poor 
 folk. In addition to these must be added the servants of all 
 these officers — the brewer, who brewed in the year 1286, 67,814 
 gallons, must have employed a good many ; the baker, who 
 ovened every year 40,000 loaves, or every day more than a hun- 
 dred, large and small ; the sextons, grave-diggers, gardeners, 
 bell-ringers, makers and menders of the ecclesiastical robes, 
 cleaners and sweepers, carpenters, masons, painters, carvers and 
 gilders — one . can very well understand that the Church of St. 
 Paul's alone found a livelihood for thousands. 
 
 The same equipment was necessary in every other religious 
 foundation. Not a monastery but had its great and lesser officers 
 and their servants. In every one there were the bell-ringers, the 
 singing men and boys, the vergers, the gardeners, the brewers, 
 bakers, cooks, messengers, scribes, rent-collectors, and all com- 
 plete as was St. Paul's, though on a smaller scale. It does not 
 seem too much to estimate the ecclesiastical establishments as 
 including a fourth part of the whole population of the City. 
 
 The London monasteries lay for the most part either just 
 within or just without the City Wall. The reason is obvious. 
 They were founded when the City was already populous, and 
 were therefore built upon the places where houses were less 
 numerous and ground was of less value. 
 
 Let us, in order to visit them all, make a circuit within the 
 City Wall, beginning from the Tower on the East. 
 
 The first House at which we stop is the Priory of Crutched 
 
PLANTAGENET 
 
 77 
 
 Friars, that is, Crossed Friars. They wore a cross of red cloth 
 upon their backs, and carried an iron cross in their hands. The 
 order of the Red Cross was founded by one Conrad, of Bologna, 
 in the year 1169. Some of the Friars found their way to Lon- 
 don in the middle of the next century, and humbly begged of 
 the pious folk a house to live in. Of course they got it, and 
 many houses afterward, with a good following of the citizens. 
 This monastery stood behind Seething Lane, opposite St. Olave's 
 Church. The site afterward became that of the Navy House, 
 and is still marked by the old stone pillars of the entrance and 
 the open court v/ithin. This court is now a receiving house for 
 
 RUINS (1790) OF THE NUNNERY OF ST. HELEN, BISHOPSGATE STREET 
 
 some railway. Beyond this, on the other side of Aldgate, stood 
 a far more important monastery — that of the Holy Trinity. The 
 site of the place is marked — for there is not a vestige left of the 
 ancient buildings — by a mean little square now called St. James's 
 Square ; a place of resort for the poorer Jews. This noble 
 House was founded by Matilda, wife of Henry I., in 1109, for 
 regular Canons of the Order of St. Augustine. The Priory, 
 enriched by many later benefactors, became the wealthiest and 
 *most splendid in the City.* Its Prior, by virtue of his office, and 
 because the old Knighten Guild had given their property to the 
 Priory, was Alderman of Portsoken ward ; the monastery was 
 
78 
 
 LONDON 
 
 exempted from ecclesiastical jurisdiction other than the Pope's ; 
 its church was great and magnificent, full of stately monuments, 
 carved marbles, and rich shrines ; the House was hospitable and 
 nobly charitable to the poor. 
 
 The beautiful old Church of St. Helen, filled with monuments 
 curious and quaint, was formerly the Church of the Priory of St. 
 Helen. This nunnery was founded by William Basing, dean of 
 St. Paul's, in the reign of Richard I. The church, as it now 
 
 ST. HELEN'S, BISHOPSGATE 
 
 stands, consists of the old Parish Church and the Nuns' Chapel, 
 formerly separated by a partition wall. The Leathersellers' 
 Company acquired some of their ground after the Dissolution, 
 and the old Hall of the Nunnery, afterward the Leathersellers' 
 Hall, was standing until the year 1799. 
 
 On the north of Broad Street stood the splendid House of 
 Austin Friars ; that is, the Friars Eremites of the Order of St. 
 Augustine. The House was founded by Humphrey Bohun, Earl 
 of Hereford, in the year 1253. It rapidly became one of the 
 
PLANTAGENET 
 
 79 
 
 wealthiest Houses in the City ; its church, very splendid, was 
 filled with monuments. Part of it stands to this day. It is now 
 used by the Dutch residents in London. The quiet courts and 
 the square at the back of the church retain something of the 
 
 X<^-. 
 
 cfe--F^-^--^ 
 
 SOUTH-WEST VIEW OF THE INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH OF ST. HELEN, 
 BISHOPSGATE STREET 
 
 former monastic arrangement and of the old tranquillity. The 
 square is certainly one of the courts of the monastery, but I 
 !<now not whether the Refectory or the Library or the Abbot's 
 House stood here. 
 
 The next great ^House, following the wall westward, was that 
 
80 
 
 LONDON 
 
 of St. Martin's le Grand, of which I have already spoken. It 
 was a House of Augustine Canons. It formed a Precinct with 
 its own Liberty. William of Wykeham was its most famous 
 Dean. In the sanctuary Miles Forrest, one of the murderers of 
 the two Princes in the Tower, died — * rotted away piecemeal.' 
 The Liberty survived long after the Dissolution. 
 
 Adjoining St. Martin's was the great Foundation of the Grey 
 Friars. 
 
 They were Franciscans. Who does not know the story of 
 St. Francis and the foundation of his great order ? They were 
 the Preachers of the poor. The first Franciscans, like the 
 
 CHURCH OF ST. AUGUSTINE (ST. AUSTIN) 
 
 Buddhist priests, lived upon alms ; they had no money, no 
 endowments, no books, no learning, no great houses. Those 
 who came to England — it was in the year 1224- nine in number, 
 of whom only one was a priest, were penniless. They first 
 halted in Canterbury, where they were permitted to sleep at night 
 in a room used by day as a school. Four of them presently 
 moved on to London, where they hired a piece of ground on 
 Cornhill, and built upon it rude cells of wattle and clay, with 
 their own hands. Already the Dominicans — their rivals- 
 Preachers of the learned and the rich — had obtained a settlement 
 in Oxford. The Franciscans staid a very short time on Cornhill. 
 
PLANTAGENET 
 
 8i 
 
 in the year 1225 one John Ewin bought and presented to them 
 a piece of ground north of Newgate Street, whither they removed. 
 Their austerity, their poverty, their earnestness, their eloquence, 
 drew all hearts towards them. And, as always happens, their very 
 popularity proved their ruin. Kings and queens, great lords and 
 ladies, strove and vied with each 
 other to show their love and ad- 
 miration for the men who had 
 given up all that the world can 
 offer for the sake of Christ and 
 for pity of their brothers and 
 sisters. They showed this love in 
 the manner common with the 
 world. They forced upon the 
 friars a portion of their wealth ; 
 they made them receive and en- 
 joy the very things they had re- 
 nounced. It is a wonderful record. 
 First, the citizens began. One 
 Lord Mayor built a new choir for 
 their church, with a splendour 
 worthy ofthe order and of the City ; 
 another built the nave to equal the 
 choir ; a third built the dormitories 
 — no more wattle and daub for 
 the dear friars ; other citizens built 
 Chapter House, Vestry House, 
 Infirmary, and Refectory. Their 
 Library was given by Dick Whit- 
 tington, thrice Mayor of London. 
 Then came the turn of the great 
 people. Queen Margaret thought 
 the choir of the church should be 
 still more splendid and added to 
 it or rebuilt it. Queen Isabel and 
 Queen Philippa thought that the 
 
 nave should be more splendid, and with the help of the Earl and 
 Countess of Richmond, the Earl of Gloucester and his sisters, 
 Cbrd Lisle and others, built^ new nave, three hundred feet long, 
 eighty-nine feet broad, and sixty-four feet high. Here were 
 buried, as in ground far more sacred than that of St. Paul's or any 
 
 G 
 
 CHURCH OF AUSTIN FRIARS 
 
82 
 
 LONDON 
 
 acre of ordinary consecration, Margaret, wife of Edward I. ; Isabel, 
 wife of Edward II. ; Joan of the Tower, Queen of Scots, daughter 
 of Edward II.; Isabel, daughter of Edward III.; Beatrice, 
 daughter of Henry III. ; and an extraordinary number of persons 
 great and honourable in their day. What became of their 
 monuments and of the church itself belongs to Tudor London. 
 
 All those who visit London are recommended by the Guide 
 Books to see the famous Blue-Coat School. The main entrance 
 is at the end of a narrow lane leading north from Newgate Street. 
 
 
 Christ's hospital, from the cloisters 
 
 On the right hand of the lane stands a great ugly pile built by 
 Wren twenty years after the Great Fire. This is Christ Church, 
 and it stands on part of the site of the old Church of the Grey 
 Friars. At the Dissolution, Henry VIII. made their church into 
 a parish church, assigning to it the two parishes of St. Nicholas 
 Shambles and St. Ewin, together with the ground occupied by 
 the Monastery. The church within is as ugly as it is without. 
 One shudders to think of the change from the great and splendid 
 monastic church. On the other side of the lane is an open space, 
 a churchyard now disused. The old church covered both this 
 
PLANTAGENET 83 
 
 open space and the area of the modern church. Behind it stood 
 the cloisters, the burial-ground, and the monastic buildings of the 
 House, covering a great extent of ground. Those who go 
 through the gate find themselves in a large quadrangle asphalted. 
 This is now part of the boys' playground ; their feet run every 
 day over the old tombs and graves of the Grey Friars' burial- 
 ground ; the soil, though not accounted so sacred as that within 
 the church itself, was considered greatly superior to that of any 
 common churchyard. Most of the dead were buried in the 
 habit of the Grey Friars, as if to cheat Peter into a belief in their 
 sanctity. On the south of the quadrangle two or three arches 
 may be observed. These are the only fragments remaining of 
 the cloisters. The view of Christ's Hospital after the Great Fire 
 of 1666, shows the old courts of the Abbey. The church 
 formerly extended over the whole front of the picture ; the 
 buildings now seen are wholly modern ; the cloistered square 
 was the churchyard ; the Hall stood across the north side of the 
 first court ; beyond were the courts appropriated to the service 
 of the monks ; the cells, libraries, etc., were round the great 
 court and the small courts on the right. The Franciscan House 
 is gone : the Friars are gone. Let us not think, however, that 
 their work is gone. On the contrary, all that was good in it 
 remains. That is the quality and the test of good work. It is 
 imperishable. If you ask what is this work and where it may 
 be found, look about you. In the prosperity of the City ; in the 
 energy, the industry, the courage, the soberness, of its people ; 
 in whatever virtues they possess — the Franciscans have their 
 share — the Grey Friars, who went straight at the people, the 
 rough, common, ignorant people, and saved them from the 
 destruction of those virtues which built up this realm of Britain. 
 The old ideas change : what is to-day faith becomes to-morrow 
 superstition ; but the new order is built upon the old. It was a 
 part of the training necessary for the English people that they 
 should pass under the teaching of the Friars. 
 
 In the south-western corner of the City Wall were lodged the 
 Dominicans or Black Friars. 
 
 These, the Preaching Friars, came to England two years 
 before their rivals, the Franciscans. Their first settlement 
 was in the country lane which now we call Chancery Lane. 
 After a residence there of fifty years, they removed to this 
 corner of the town, which was, so to speak, made for them, 
 
 C2 
 
84 LONDON 
 
 that is, the City Wall which formerly ran straight from Lud- 
 gate to the river was pulled down, and rebuilt further west 
 along the bank of the Fleet. Within the piece of ground 
 thus added, the Black Friars settled down, and because the 
 ground had not formerly belonged to the City, it now became 
 a Precinct of its own, enclosed by its own wall, with its four 
 gates not amenable to the City and pretending to a right of 
 Sanctuary. Edward I. and his Queen Eleanor were great 
 benefactors to the Dominicans. Of the church and the stately 
 buildings of the proud order not a trace remains. In the 
 Guildhall Museum may be seen a drawing of some ruined 
 vaults belonging to the Abbey, which were discovered on en- 
 larging the premises of the ' Times ' some years ago. There 
 is nothing above-ground. The Dominicans, however, never 
 succeeded in winning the affections of the people to the same 
 extent as the Franciscans. They were learned : they insisted 
 strongly on doctrine ; but they were harder of heart than the 
 Grey Friars. It was the Dominicans who encouraged the 
 planting of the Inquisition. 
 
 All these Houses were within the walls. Without were 
 others, as rich and as splendid. South of Fleet Street, 
 between Bridewell Palace and the Temple, was the House of 
 the Carmelites called the White Friars. These also were an 
 Order of Mendicants. The Fratres Eeatce Maries de Monte 
 Carmelo sprang from the hermits who settled in numbers 
 on the slopes of Mount Carmel. They were formed into an 
 order by Almeric, Bishop of Antioch, and were first introduced 
 into Europe about the year 1216 by Albert, Patriarch of Jeru- 
 salem. They got their house in London from Edward I. ; but 
 their chief benefactor was Hugh Courtenay, Earl of Devonshire. 
 They, too, had their Sanctuary, afterward called Alsatia. This 
 privilege was not abolished till the year 1697. 
 
 Beyond the Carmelites were the Templars, but the sup- 
 pression of the Order removed them from the scene in the year 
 1 3 10. 
 
 The Priories of St. Bartholomew and of St. John belong to 
 Norman London, On the north of Bartholomew's, however, 
 stood the House of the Carthusians. The Carthusian Order 
 was a branch of the Benedictine Rule to which the Cluniacs and 
 Cistercians also belonged. 
 
 The House of the Salutation of the Mother of God — which 
 
PLANTAGENET 
 
 85 
 
 was its full title — was founded in the year 1371 by Sir Walter 
 Manny. Those who know their Froissart know that gallant 
 Knight well and can testify to his achievements ; how he en- 
 treated King Edward for the citizens of Calais ; how he rescued 
 the Countess of Montfort besieged in the castle of Hennivere, 
 and, for his reward, was kissed-^he and his companions — not 
 once, but two or three times, by that brave lady ; these and many 
 other things can be told of this noble Knight. Not the least 
 of his feats was the foundation of this House of Religion, 
 
 When we speak of the Plague of London we generally mean 
 that of 1664-5. But this was only the last, and perhaps not the 
 worst, of the many plagues which had visited the City. Thirteen 
 
 THE CHARTER HOUSE 
 
 great pestilences fell upon the City between the years 1094 and 
 1625 — in the last year, 35,000 died. That is to say, one plague 
 happened about every forty years, so that there never was a time 
 when a recent plague was not in the minds of men. Always 
 they remembered the last visitation, the suddenness and swift- 
 ness of destruction, the desolation of houses, the striking down 
 of young and old, the loss of the tender children, the sweet 
 maidens, the gallant youth. Life is brief and uncertain at the 
 best ; but, when the plague is added to the diseases which men 
 expect, its uncertainty is forced upon the minds of the people 
 Cf every condition with a j^rsistence and a conviction unknown 
 in quiet times when each man hopes to live out his three score 
 years and ten. 
 
S6 LONDON 
 
 In the year 1 347 there happened a dreadful plague. It began 
 in Dorsetshire and spread over the whole of the south country, 
 reaching London last. After a while the churchyards were not 
 large enough to hold the dead, and they were forced to enclose 
 ground outside the walls. The Bishop of London, therefore, 
 bought a piece of ground north of Bartholomew's, called No 
 Man's Ground, which he enclosed and consecrated, building 
 thereon a ' fair chapel.' This place was called the Pardon 
 Churchyard. It stood, as those who know London will be 
 interested to know, beyond the north wall of the present Charter 
 House. 
 
 Two years later, the plague still continuing, Sir Walter Manny 
 bought a plot of thirteen acres close to this churchyard, and 
 built a chapel upon it — it stood somewhere in the middle of the 
 present Charterhouse Square — and gave it for an additional 
 churchyard. More than 50,000 persons were buried here in one 
 year — according to Stow, but the number is impossible, unless 
 the whole of London died in that year. There used to be a 
 stone cross standing in the churchyard with the following 
 inscription : 
 
 Anno Domini 1349, regnante magna pestilentia, consecratum fuit 
 hoc coemiterium in quo et infra septa presentis monasterii sepulta 
 fuerunt mortuorum corpora plus quam quinquaginta millia praeter alia 
 multa abhinc usque ad presens : quorum animabus propitietur Deus. 
 Amen. 
 
 The old Pardon Churchyard afterward became the burial- 
 place of suicides and executed criminals. To this sad place the 
 bodies of such were carried in a cart belonging to St. John's 
 Hospital ; the vehicle was hung over with black, but with a 
 St. John's Cross in front, and within it hung a bell which rang 
 with the jolting and the shaking of the cart — a mournful sight 
 to see and a doleful sound to hear. 
 
 Twenty-two years later, when there had been upward of a 
 hundred thousand persons buried in the new churchyard, Sir 
 Walter Manny, now grown old and near his end, bought ten 
 acres more, which he gave to the ground and established here a 
 House of Carthusians called the Salutation. At first he thought 
 of making a college for a warden, a dean, and twelve secular 
 priests. On the advice, however, of Simon Sudbury, Bishop of 
 
PLANTAGENET 87 
 
 London, he abandoned that project and established a House of 
 Carthusians. 
 
 The Cistercian Order was founded by one Stephen Harding, 
 originally a monk of Sherborne. He is said by William of 
 Malmesbury to have left his convent and to have gone into 
 France, where he practised ' the Liberal arts ' until he fell into 
 repentance and was received into the monastery of Molesmes 
 in Burgundy. Here he found a little company of the brethren 
 who were not content with the Rule of the House, but desired 
 instruction and a rule more in accordance with their Founder's 
 intention. They seceded, therefore, and established themselves 
 at Citeaux, then entirely covered with woods. This is their 
 manner of life set forth by the Chronicler : 
 
 Certainly many of their regulations seem severe, and more particu- 
 larly these : they wear nothing made with furs or linen, nor even that 
 finely spun linen garment which we call Staminium ; ' neither breeches, 
 unless when sent on a journey, which at their return they wash and 
 restore. They have two tunics with cowls, but no additional garment 
 in winter, though, if they think fit, in summer they may lighten their 
 garb. They sleep clad and girded, and never after matins return to 
 their beds ; but they so order the time of matins that it shall be light 
 ere the lauds ^ begin ; so intent are they on their rule, that they think 
 no jot or tittle of it should be disregarded. Directly after these hymns 
 they sing the prime, after which they go out to work for stated hours. 
 They complete whatever labor or service they have to perform by day 
 without any other light. No one is ever absent from the daily services, 
 or from complines, except the sick. The cellarer and hospitaller, after 
 complines, wait upon the guests, yet observing the strictest silence. 
 The abbat allows himself no indulgence beyond the others — everywhere 
 present — everywhere attending to his flock ; except that he does not 
 eat with the rest, because his table is with the strangers and the poor. 
 Nevertheless, be he where he may, he is equally sparing of food and 
 speech ; for never more than two dishes are served either to him or to his 
 company ; lard and meat never but to the sick. From the Ides of Sep- 
 tember till Easter, through regard for whatever festival, they do not take 
 more than one meal a day, except on Sunday. They never leave the 
 cloister but for purpose of labor, nor do they ever speak, either there 
 or elsewhere, save only to the abbat or prior. They pay unwearied 
 attention to the canonical ^ services, making no addition to them except 
 
 ' A kind of woollen shirt. 
 
 * The concluding psalms of the matin service. 
 
 • The Horoe, or canonical services, were matins, primes, tierce, sexts, nones, 
 vespers, and complines. 
 
88 LONDON 
 
 for the defunct. They use in their divine service the Ambrosian chants * 
 and hymns, as far as they were able to learn them at Milan. While 
 they bestow care on the stranger and the sick, they inflict intolerable 
 mortifications on their own bodies, for the health of their souls. 
 
 When we consider this death in life ; this suppression of 
 everything which makes life ; this annihilation of aims, ambitions, 
 and natural affections ; this destruction of love, emotion, and 
 passion ; this mere monotony of breathing ; this wearisome 
 futility and vanity ; this endless iteration of Litanies ; when we 
 remember that hundreds of thousands in every Christian country, 
 men and women, voluntarily entered upon this life, knowing 
 beforehand what it was, and that they patiently endured it, we 
 can in some measure realise the intensity and the reality of the 
 torments which they believed to be provided for the vast ma- 
 jority of mankind. There grew up, in the course of years, rich 
 monks and luxurious monks ; but in the early days of each Order 
 there was the austerity of the Rule. And though here and 
 there we find a brother who rises to a spiritual level far above 
 the letter of his Order, the religion of the ordinary brother was 
 little more than the fear of Hell, with a sense of gratitude to the 
 Saints for snatching him out of the flames. 
 
 Most of the brethren, again, of the new and more austere 
 Orders, until they become rich, were simple and illiterate. They 
 wanted a rule of life which should give them no chance of com- 
 mitting sin ; like women, they desired to be ruled in everything, 
 even the most trivial. At dinner, for instance, they were enjoined 
 to drink with both hands and to incline the head when served ; 
 in church they were not to clinch their hands or to stretch out 
 their legs ; the whole day was mapped out for them as it is for 
 boys at school. From primes (the daybreak service) till tierce, 
 spiritual exercises ; from tierce till sext, and from nones till ves- 
 pers, manual labours ; once every day private prayer at the altar ; 
 silence in the cell ; to ask for what was wanted after nones ; no 
 conversation in the chapter, the cloisters, or the church ; from 
 November till Easter conversation on the customs of the Order ; 
 afterward on the Gospels — and so on. The effect on the com- 
 mon nature would be to produce a breathing machine, incapable 
 of thought, of action, of judgment, with no affections, emotions, 
 
 • The Ambrosian ritual prevailed pretty generally till the time of Charlemagne, 
 who adopted the Gregorian. 
 
\ 
 
 PLANTAGENET 89 
 
 or passions. The holy brotherhood becomes a troop of slaves 
 engaged upon a round of trivial duties, kept at a low stage of 
 vitality by scanty food and short sleep. They cease after a 
 while to desire any change ; they go on in meekness and sub- 
 mission to the end, their piety measured by their regularity. 
 Now and then among them is found one who frets under the 
 yoke. Either he wants new austerities, like Stephen Harding, 
 or he rises in mad revolt, and before he can be suppressed 
 commits such dreadful sins of rebellion and blasphemy as leave 
 little doubt that after all his pains and privations his chances in 
 the next world are no better than those of the foul-mouthed 
 ruffier outside, whose life has been one long sin, whose death will 
 be caused by a knife in a drunken fray, whose body will be 
 carried in the black cart with the bell to Pardon Churchyard, 
 and whose soul, most certainly, will be borne to its own place 
 by the hands of the Devil to whom it belongs. 
 
 There must have been in every convent such times of mad- 
 ness and revolt, even though the vital powers were kept low 
 with poor and scanty food. It is not every man who can be 
 thus changed into a slave and a praying-machine. The noblest 
 souls must break out from time to time ; only the ignoble sink 
 contentedly day by day into lethargic, passive, mechanical 
 discharge of the rules ; their mouths mechanically mumble the 
 litanies ; the sacred ness falls out of the most holy acts and words 
 by reason of their familiarity ; they drop into second childhood 
 in the vigour and strength of manhood. If the walls of the 
 convent could speak, what tales would they tell of madness and 
 despair and vain rage and drivelling idiocy ! One thing, how- 
 ever, came to the relief of these poor men in every Order ; it was 
 the gradual relaxation of the Rule, until, by the Dissolution, 
 the laws of the Founder had passed into forms and words, and 
 the House, enriched by benefactions, had become a pleasant 
 club, consisting of none but gentlemen, where certain light duties 
 removed the tedium of an idle life. 
 
 For two hundred years this House of the Salutation continued. 
 There remains no record of that long period ; no record at all. 
 There is no history of those poor souls who lived their dreary 
 lives within its walls. The monks obeyed the Rule and died and 
 were forgotten. Nay, theyTiad been forgotten since the day when 
 they assumed the hood. The end of the Carthusians came in 
 blood and prison an^ torture ; but that belongs to Tudor London. 
 
90 LONDON 
 
 The accompanying view (p. 85) of the Charter House after 
 the Dissolution, and when Sutton had altered it for his new 
 Foundation, is useful in showing the arrangement of the older 
 monastic buildings. Chapel, cloisters, courts, bowling green, 
 kitchen garden, and ' wilderness ' are all exactly as the monks 
 left them, though most of the buildings are of later date. The 
 founder, Sir Walter, lived to see only the commencement of his 
 work. He died the year after his House was established and 
 was buried in the chapel, he and his wife Margaret and many 
 other gallant knights and gracious ladies, who thus acknowledged, 
 when they chose to be laid among the dust and ashes of the 
 poor folk who had died of the plague and those who had died 
 by the gibbet, their brotherhood with the poorest and the 
 humblest and the most unfortunate. 
 
 The modern visitor to London, when he has seen great St. 
 Bartholomew's, is taken up a street hard by. Here, amid mean 
 houses and shops of the lower class, he sees standing across 
 the road St. John's Gate, a place already as well known to him 
 and as frequently figured as St. Paul's itself. This is the gate 
 — and it is nearly all that is left— of the great Priory of St. 
 John of Jerusalem. 
 
 It was founded in the year iioo, and therefore belongs to 
 Norman London. Its founder was Jordan Briset, a Baron of 
 the Realm, and Muriel his wife. They had already founded a 
 priory for nuns close by Clerkenwell. A church of some kind 
 was certainly built at the beginning, but the great Priory 
 Church, one of the most splendid in London, was not dedicated 
 till the year 1 185, and then by no less a person than by 
 Heraclius, Patriarch of Jerusalem, then in England in quest of 
 aid and money for another Crusade. 
 
 In its Foundation the brethren took the vows of chastity, 
 obedience, and poverty. They were to have a right to nothing 
 but bread, water, and clothes. They begged their food ; on 
 Wednesdays and Fridays they fasted ; a breach of their first 
 vow was punished by public flogging and penance ; no women 
 were to do any offices at all for them ; they were to be silent, 
 never to go about alone ; they were to be the servants of the sick 
 and poor ; they were valiantly to defend the Cross. * Receive,' 
 says the ritual of admission, ' the yoke of the Lord ; it is easy 
 and light and thou shalt find rest for thy soul. We promise 
 thee nothing but bread and water, a simple habit of little worth. 
 
PLANTAGENET 91 
 
 We give thee, thy parents and relations, a share in the good 
 works performed by our Order and by our brethren, both now 
 and hereafter, throughout the world. We place, O brother, this 
 cross upon thy breast, that thou mayest love it with all thy 
 heart, and may thy right hand ever fight in its defence ! Should 
 it happen that in fighting against the enemies of the faith thou 
 shouldest desert the Standard of the Cross and take to flight, 
 thou wilt be stripped of the holy sign according to the statutes 
 and customs of the Order, as having broken its vows, and thou 
 wilt be cut off from our body.' 
 
 This poor, valiant, and ascetic society became in two hundred 
 years enormously rich and luxurious. By its pride and its 
 tyranny it had incurred the most deadly hatred of the common 
 people, as is shown by their behaviour during the insurrection 
 of Wat Tyler and John Ball. The first step of the rebels in 
 Essex was to destroy a fair manor-house belonging to the 
 Knights Hospitallers and to devour and waste the stores of 
 food, wine, and clothes contained in it. On their way to London 
 they destroyed another manor belonging to the Knights, that ot 
 Highbury. After they had burned and pillaged Lambeth and 
 the vSavoy, they went in a body to St. John's Priory and 
 destroyed the whole of the buildings, church and all. And they 
 seized and beheaded the Grand Prior, who was also Treasurer 
 of the Realm. The church soon rose again, and the monastic 
 buildings were replaced with more than the ancient spendour, 
 and the luxury of the Knights was in no way diminished by this 
 disaster. The Gate itself, part of the later buildings, now be- 
 longs to the English Knights of St. John, who have established 
 an ambulance station close beside it and maintain a hospital at 
 Jerusalem. The very beautiful crypt of the church still stands 
 and may be visited. Part of the walls of the mean modern 
 church also belongs to the old church. 
 
 On the north side of the Priory and adjacent to it lay the 
 twin Foundation of Briset, the Priory of Black Nuns. Its 
 church, at the Dissolution, became the Parish Church of St. 
 James, Clerkenwell. Jordan Briset and his wife were buried in 
 this church. 
 
 ^ The Hospital of St Man^ of Bethlehem was situated at first 
 outside Bishopsgate, close to St. Botolph's Church. This 
 ancient Foundation, of which our Bethlehem Hospital is the 
 grandchild, was endowed by one Simon Fitz Mary, Sheriff in 
 
92 LONDON 
 
 the year 1247. It was designed for a convent, the monks being 
 obh'ged to receive and entertain the Bishop of Bethlehem or his 
 nuncio whenever either should be in London. It is said to have 
 become a hospital within a few years of its foundation. In the 
 year 1347 the brethren were all engaged in collecting alms. 
 This was one of the lesser Houses, though it survived the rest 
 and became the great and splendid Foundation which still 
 exists. A little farther north and on the opposite side of 
 Bishopsgate Street stood the great House of St. Mary Spital — 
 Domus Dei et Beatce Virginis — founded in the year 1 197 by 
 Walter Brune and Rosia his wife. It was originally a Priory of 
 Canons Regular. At some time in its history, I know not 
 when, it was converted into a hospital, like its neighbour of 
 Bethlehem. It would be interesting to learn when this change 
 became even possible. It must have bsen long after its 
 foundation, when the old prayer-machine theory had lost some- 
 thing of its earliest authority, and, in the face of the mass of 
 human suffering, men began to ask whether the machinery 
 engaged in iterating litanies might not be made more useful in 
 the alleviation of suffering. For whatever cause, the House of 
 God and the Blessed Virgin became St. Mary Spital, and at the 
 time of the Dissolution there were no fewer than one hundred 
 and eighty beds in the House. Near St. Mary Spital was 
 Holywell Nunnery. On the south side of Aldgate, outside the 
 wall, stood the famous Abbey of St. Clare, called the Minories, 
 founded by Edmund, Earl of Lancaster, in the year 1293, for 
 the reception of certain nuns brought over by his wife, Blanche, 
 Queen of Navarre, who were professed to serve God, the Blessed 
 Virgin, and St. Francis. 
 
 There is a church, one of the meanest and smallest of all the 
 London churches, standing in the ugliest and dreariest part of 
 the City, called the Church of the Holy Trinity, Minories, 
 which is often visited by Americans because the arms of 
 Washington are to be seen here ; and by antiquaries, because 
 the head of the Duke of Suffolk, executed on Tower Hill, is 
 preserved here. The north wall of this church is part of the 
 wall of the Clare Sisters' Church, and is all that remains in 
 that squalid place of the noble Foundation. 
 
 Sir Walter Manny's Carthusian House was not the only 
 Foundation arising out of the Great Plague of 1 348. On the north- 
 east of the Tower arose at the same time a very stately House, 
 
PLANTAGENET 93 
 
 dedicated to the Honour of God and the Lady of Grace. It 
 began exactly in the same way as the Carthusians', by the 
 purchase of a piece of ground in which to bury those who died 
 of the plague. John Corey, Clerk, first bought the ground, 
 calling it the Churchyard of the Holy Trinity. One Robert 
 Elsing gave five pounds, and other citizens contributing, the 
 place was enclosed and a chapel built on it. Then Edward HI. 
 remembering a certain vow made during a certain tempest at 
 sea, in which he was only saved by the miraculous interposition 
 of the Virgin Mary herself, built here a monastery which he 
 called the House and King's Free Chapel of the Blessed Virgin 
 
 RUINS OF THE CONVENT OF NUNS MINORIES, 181O 
 
 of Grace — * in memoriam Gratiarum.' The House obtained the 
 Manor of Gravesend and other rich benefactions. There is 
 little history that I have discovered belonging to it. The 
 people commonly called it either New Abbey or Eastminster, 
 and when it was surrendered its yearly value was 546/., equiva- 
 lent to about 10,000/. a year as prices now obtain. 
 
 On the south side of Thames, beside St. Mary Overies 
 already noticed, there were two great Houses. 
 
 The first of these, St. Thomas's Hospital, was founded in the 
 5^ar 121 3 by Richard, Prior of Bermondsey, for converts and 
 poor children. He called it the Almery. Two years afterward 
 the Bishop of Winchester, Peter de Rupibus, now founded the 
 
94 LONDON 
 
 place for Canons Regular. After the Dissolution it was pur- 
 chased by the City of London for a hospital for the sick and 
 poor. 
 
 The second, Bermondsey Abbey, though founded as early as 
 1081 by one Alwyn Childe, Citizen, and probably one of Fitz- 
 stephen's thirteen conventual churches, and a most interesting 
 House from many points of view, hardly comes within our limits. 
 Portions of the Abbey were standing until the beginning of this 
 century. All the then existing remains were figured by Wilkin- 
 son — I have not been able to find a fragment of it now remaining 
 above-ground. Under ground, vaults, arches, and crypts un- 
 doubtedly remain, and will be discovered from time to time as 
 excavations are made for new buildings. These great Houses, 
 all richly endowed with broad manors, devoured a good part of 
 the whole country. Their schools, their learning, and their 
 charities are matters of sentiment if not of history. For the 
 time came when the school should become free of the monastery, 
 and when the vast estates formed for the benefit of the monks 
 should pass into the hands of the community. Charity to the 
 poor is a thing beautiful in itself; better than to relieve the poor 
 is to lessen the necessity of poverty. 
 
 But this long list of great Houses by no means exhausts the 
 list. Beside these of the City, within it or else around it, were 
 many others, not so rich, yet well endowed. He, for instance, 
 who walks along the broad highway of Whitechapel and Mile 
 End, if he continues his walk, presently arrives at a most 
 interesting and venerable church. It is quite small, with a low 
 tower ; it stands in the middle of the road and has a long narrow 
 churchyard, cigar-shaped, before and behind it. This is the 
 Church of St. Mary, or Bow Church. It was formerly the 
 Church of a nunnery founded at Stratford-le-Bow by William 
 the Conqueror ; it was augmented by Stephen, enriched by 
 Henry II. and Richard I., and it lasted till the Dissolution. Let 
 us remember that every new endowment of a monastic House 
 meant the sequestration of so many acres of land ; they were 
 taken from the country and given to the Church ; they could 
 never be sold ; the tenants could never acquire property or rise 
 in the world ; all the lands owned by convents, churches, or 
 colleges, were lands withdrawn for ever (as it seemed) from the 
 healthy change and chance of private property. 
 
 I do not think that Bow Church is mentioned in any of the 
 
PLANTAGENET 
 
 95 
 
 London hand-books. There is yet another and a much more 
 important and interesting Foundation which, I believe, is not 
 recommended by any guide-book to the visitor. Yet Waltham 
 Abbey Church is a place of the greatest interest. It may almost 
 be ranked with Winchester, Westminster, Canterbury, Caen and 
 Fontevrault as regards historic interest. Moreover, it is at this 
 day a place of singular beauty, and is approached, by one who 
 
 
 BOW CHURCH, MILE END ROAD 
 
 is well advised and can give up to the visit a whole afternoon 
 and evening, by a most beautiful walk. The name Waltham 
 has been explained as the place of the wall. In that case, here 
 ^fes a * waste Chester,' a fortified enclosure found by the East 
 Saxons when they overran the country, and left by them, as 
 they left so many other places, to fall into decay. It seems 
 
96 
 
 LONDON 
 
 most likely, however, that the name is Wealdham, the place of 
 the forest. 
 
 The history of Waltham begins with a famous wedding feast. 
 It is that of Tofig the Royal Standard-bearer, and it caused the 
 death of a king, because Hardeknut at this feast drank himself 
 to death. The great Danish Thane built here a hunting 
 lodge, the place being built in the midst of a mighty forest, of 
 which vestiges remain to this day at Hampstead, Hornsey, and 
 Epping. Now, Tofig held lands in Somersetshire as well as in 
 
 NORTH-EAST VIEW OF WALTHAM ARREY 
 CHURCH, ESSEX 
 
 Middlesex. And at a place called 
 Lutgarsbury, which is now Mont- 
 acute {inons acutus)y a singular 
 peaked hill, there lived a smith, who was moved in a dream to dig 
 for a certain cross which, it was revealed to him, lay buried under- 
 ground. He did so, and was rewarded by finding a splendid cross 
 of black marble covered with silver and set with precious stones 
 When he had found it, he naturally thought it his duty to convey 
 it to the nearest great monastery. In these days, quite another 
 course would suggest itself to the fortunate rustic. The smith of 
 Lutgarsbury, therefore, placed the cross on the cart and informed 
 the oxen that he was going to drive them to Glastonbury, that 
 Holy House sacred to the memory of Joseph of Arimathea him- 
 
PLANTAGENET 97 
 
 self and illustrious for its thorn flowering in mid-winter. Miracle ! 
 The oxen refused to move. The parish priest, called in to advise, 
 suggested Canterbury, only second to Glastonbury in sanctity. 
 Still these inspired animals refused to move. Perhaps Win- 
 chester might be tried. There they had the bones of St. Swithin. 
 No, not even to Winchester would they carry the cross. ' Then,' 
 said the priest, * let them carry the cross to your master Tofig at 
 
 WALTHAM ABBEY CHURCH, ESSEX, BEFORE RESTORATION 
 
 Waltham.' Strange to say, though Waltham had no special 
 sanctity, the intelligent creatures immediately set off with the 
 greatest alacrity in the direction of Waltham, a hundred and 
 fifty miles away, and reached it after a ten days' journey bearing 
 tffe cross safely. * 
 
 The story is preserved in a tract, De Inventione Sanctis 
 Cruets Walthamensis^ and must be believed by all the faithful 
 
 H 
 
98 LONDON 
 
 Thane Tofig showed his sense of what was due to a miracle by 
 building a church for the reception of the cross, and appointing 
 two canons to serve the church. It is also said that at least 
 sixty persons were cured by means of this miraculous cross, 
 and that many of them continued to live near the church in 
 order to testify to its powers. When, a few years later, Harold 
 obtained possession of the estate, he built a larger and more 
 splendid church on the site, and placed twelve instead of two 
 canons in it, with a dean and schoolmaster. The church was 
 consecrated in the year 1060, in the presence of King Edward 
 and Edith his Queen. On his way south to meet William, 
 Harold stopped to pray before the cross. While he prayed, the 
 head on the cross, which had before looked upward, bent forward, 
 and so remained down-cast. On the field of Senlac, Harold's 
 cry was ' The Holy Cross.' 
 
 The body of the dead King was brought to the church and 
 buried in the chancel. Only the nave remains, but there still 
 stretches to the east a green space which was once the chancel, 
 and somewhere under this green lawn lies the body of the last 
 Saxon king. 
 
 William the Conqueror spared the Foundation. Henry H. 
 replaced Harold's canons by monks of Rule. He is said to have 
 rebuilt the church, but this is doubted. Probably some of the 
 existing part, the nave, contains Harold's work, which was 
 already Norman in character. When, in 1307, the body of 
 Edward I. was brought from the north to be buried in 
 Westminster, it lay for seventeen days in the Abbey Church 
 of Waltham. And the place is full of historical memories, 
 not only of kings, but of worthies. Cranmer here advised 
 Henry VHI. concerning his divorce. Thomas Fuller here 
 wrote his Church History. Foxe here wrote his book of the 
 Martyrs. The church now stands on the north side of a 
 small and rather mean town ; it is in the midst of a large 
 churchyard planted with yew-trees and set with benches for 
 the old to sit among the tombs. The grave of King Harold, 
 somewhere under the turf, has over it the circled firmament 
 instead of the lofty arch ; instead of the monkish litanies it 
 hears the song of the lark and thrush ; instead of the whis- 
 per and the hushed footfall of the priests there is the voice 
 of the children playing in the town and the multitudinous 
 sound of work in the streets hard by. A happy exchange 1 
 
PLANTAGENET 99 
 
 In the Old Jewry there was established by Henry III. — a 
 Jewish synagogue being their first house — a branch of a very 
 singular order — the Fratres de PenitentiA Jesu or Fratres de 
 Saccd. They were mendicants of the Franciscan Rule and were 
 dressed in sackcloth to denote their poverty and their penitence. 
 It was another and one of the last endeavours after a return to 
 the early zeal and the first poverty of the Order. For a time 
 the new brotherhood enjoyed considerable popularity ; Queen 
 Eleanor, wife of Edward I., took them under her protection and 
 endowed the synagogue, which was all they had, with lands and 
 houses. Unhappily the Council of Lyons, 1274, ordered that 
 there should be recognised no other mendicant friars except the 
 Dominicans, the Minorites, the Carmelites, and the Augustines. 
 So one supposes that these Brothers, just as they were getting 
 comfortable in their synagogue, and beginning to reap the fruits 
 of their austerities, had to turn out again, because no one was 
 allowed to give them anything, and so went back to the common 
 Orders who would not allow even the wearing of the sackcloth. 
 One is sorry for the poor men so proud of their sackcloth and 
 with such encouraging recognition already won. 
 
 Again, there is not much in the modern Church of St. Giles 
 in the Fields to suggest the past — a large stone church with a 
 churchyard, standing in a miserable district which for two 
 hundred years has been the haunt of criminals and vagabonds. 
 Yet here was one of the very earliest Houses of piety and charity. 
 Here was perhaps the earliest hospital founded in this land of 
 Britain. It was instituted by Queen Maud, wife of Henry I., 
 as a lazar-house for lepers and other poor sick men. What 
 became of the lepers when there was no house for them } They 
 crept into empty hovels ; they perished miserably, outcast, 
 neglected. So long as they were strong enough to creep out 
 they begged their bread ; when they could no longer crawl, they 
 lay down and died. Thanks to the good Queen, some of them, 
 at least, were cared for in their last days. A sweet fragrance of 
 thanksgiving lingers still about the slums of St. Giles. The 
 poor lepers who lie buried in that squalid churchyard still uplift 
 a voice of praise for those who remember the sick and all that 
 are desolate and sore oppressed. 
 
 • Nor is there at Charing<!ross much to remind the visitor of 
 the past. Yet here was a Foundation somewhat unusual of its 
 kind. It was an 'alien' House. The Chapel, Hospital, or 
 
 u 2 
 
lOO 
 
 LONDON 
 
 House of St. Mary Rounceval was founded by William Marshall, 
 Earl of Pembroke, who gave certain tenements to the Prior of 
 Rounceval, or de Roscida Valle, in the Diocese of Pampeluna, 
 Navarre. It was a House for eleven brethren. Henry IV^ 
 suppressed all alien priories, this among the rest, but it was re- 
 stored by Edward IV. as a Fraternity. After the Dissolution 
 the site of the House was used by the Earl of Northampton for 
 
 POUCH OF ST. SEPULCHRE'S CHURCH 
 
 the palace which, under the name of Northumberland House, 
 stood until the other day, the last of the river-side palaces. 
 
 Other great Houses are sometimes reckoned as London 
 Houses, such as those of Barking, Wimbledon, Merton, and 
 Chertsey, but these are outside our limits. ^ Nor can. I touch 
 here upon any of the religious Foundations of Westminster. 
 
 We have seen that when we lay down the monastic estab- 
 lishments upon the map, they occupy a very considerable part 
 of the area within the walls. But when we consider, in addition, 
 the great number of smaller Foundations, the colleges, hospitals, 
 
PLANTAGENET loi 
 
 and fraternities with Houses, the parish churches and the church- 
 yards, we shall begin to understand that the space required for 
 ecclesiastical buildings alone in the confined area of a mediaeval 
 town gives a very fair idea of the power and authority of the 
 Church. 
 
 After the Monasteries come the colleges, so called, by which 
 we must not understand seats of learning, but colleges of priests. 
 There were several of these : 
 
 First, that of St. Thomas of Aeon. The college was founded 
 by Agnes, sister of Thomas a Becket. She endowed it with her 
 father's property in London. It stood on the site of the present 
 Mercers' Chapel, and was built on the spot where the new saint 
 was born. The Mercers' Chapel, however, occupies only a 
 portion of the splendid church which was destroyed in the Great 
 Fire. The Foundation received many endowments, and at the 
 Dissolution its income was nearly 300/. a year, equal to twenty 
 times as much of modern money. The City, naturally proud of 
 its saint, observed a curious annual function in connection with 
 this college. On the afternoon of the day when he was sworn at 
 the Exchequer, the new Lord Mayor, with the Aldermen, met 
 at this chapel and thence proceeded to St. Paul's, where first 
 they prayed for the soul of Bishop William— who had been 
 Bishop of London in the time of William the Conqueror. This 
 done, they repaired to the tomb of Gilbert a Becket in Pardon 
 Churchyard and there prayed for all faithful souls departed. 
 Then they returned to St. Thomas Aeon and made an offering-. 
 Nothing is said about the evening, but one hopes that the day 
 was concluded in the cheerful manner common at all times with 
 London citizens. 
 
 Next, the College of Whittington. 
 
 This noble and wealthy merchant rebuilt the Church of St. 
 Michael, called Paternoster in the Royal, and attached to it a 
 College of St. Spirit and St Mary for a master, four fellows, 
 clerks, conducts and choristers, together with an almshouse for 
 thirteen poor men. They were all bound to pray for the soul 
 of Sir Richard Whittington and his wife Dame Alice ; also for 
 those of Sir William Whittington and Dame Joan, his wife, the 
 Q^rents of the founder. T|je college was swept away at the 
 Dissolution ; the alm.shouse remained and was rebuilt after the 
 Fire. They are now removed to Highgate, but a conventual 
 feeling still lingers ai>out the buildings at the back of the church. 
 
102 LONDON 
 
 Then follows St. Michael's College, Crooked Lane. 
 
 Sir William Walworth, the valiant Mayor who killed Wat 
 Tyler, founded a college of one master and nine chaplains to 
 say mass in St. Michael's Church, the choir and the aisles of 
 which he rebuilt. 
 
 And there was also Jesus Commons. 
 
 This Foundation seems to have resembled that of All-Souls, 
 Oxford, in that its fellows had no duties to perform except the 
 services of their chapel. It is described as a fair house in Dow- 
 gate (no doubt built round a small quadrangle), well furnished 
 with everything and containing a good library, all for the use of 
 those who lived there — a peaceful, quiet place, without any 
 history. One thinks of the day when it had to be dissolved, 
 and the poor old priests, who had lived so long in the House, 
 were driven forth into the streets. Not even submission to the 
 king's supremacy could save the tenants of Jesus Commons. 
 The House itself was pulled down and tenements built in its 
 place. 
 
 A somewhat similar House was a small and very interesting 
 Foundation called the Papey. It was a college for poor and 
 aged priests. In any old map the church called St. Augustine 
 Papey may be seen at the north end of St. Mary Axe nestled 
 under the wall, with a piece of ground adjoining, which may 
 have been a garden and may have been a burial-ground. We 
 find the poor old priests taking part in funerals, and, I dare say, 
 in any other function by which their slender provision might be 
 augmented. 
 
 Next to the Colleges come the Hospitals. St. Bartholomew's, 
 most ancient and richest, belongs to Norman London. 
 
 One who walks along the street called London Wall will 
 chance upon a churchyard, on the north side of which stilj 
 stands a fragment of the old wall. This churchyard, narrow and 
 small, is surrounded on three sides by warehouses ; on the fourth 
 side it looks upon the street. On the other side of the street i^ 
 a large block of warehouses, the monument of a most disgraceful 
 and shameful act of vandalism. On this spot stood Rising Spital. 
 It was founded in the year 1329 as a priory and hospital for the 
 maintenance of a hundred blind men by one William Rising, its 
 first Prior. On the dissolution of the religious houses Rising's 
 Spital surrendered with the rest and was dissolved. What 
 became of the blind men is not known. Then they took the fine 
 
PLANTAGENET 
 
 103 
 
 Priory Church, and having pulled down the north aisle — on the 
 site of which houses were built — they converted the rest of the 
 church into the parish church of St. Alphege, which had pre- 
 viously stood in Cripplegate. The site of the old church was 
 turned into a carpenter's yard. The porch of St. Alphege remains 
 of the ancient buildings. Of Sion College, which in course of 
 time succeeded Elsing's Spital, we will speak in another place. 
 
 That splendid Foundation which rears its wards on the south 
 of the Thames, over against the Houses of Parliament, St. 
 
 SOUTH VIEW OF THE PALACE OF THE BISHOPS OF WINCHESTER, 
 NEAR ST. saviour's 
 
 Thomas's Hospital, was founded in 131 3, as an almery or house 
 of alms for converts and poor children ; but two years later the 
 House was re founded on a much larger scale. After the Disso- 
 lution, its site, then in Southwark, was purchased by the citizens 
 of London. To sum up, London was as well provided with 
 hospitals in the fourteenth century as it was with convents and 
 religious Houses. The]^ were St. Bartholomew's, Elsing Spital, 
 St. Giles Cripplegate, St. Mary Spital, St. Mary of Bethlehem, 
 St. Thomas Southwark, and the Lazar- House of Southwark. 
 
104 LONDON 
 
 These hospitals, it must be borne in mind, were all religious 
 Foundations governed by brethren of some Order. Religion 
 ruled all. PVom the birth of the child to the death of the man, 
 religion, the forms, duties, and obedience due to religion, attended 
 everyone. No one thought it possible that it could be otherwise. 
 The emancipation of mankind from the thrall of the Church, 
 incomplete to the present day, had then hardly yet begun. All 
 learning, all science, all the arts, all the professions, were in the 
 hands of the Church. It is very easy to congratulate ourselves 
 upon the removal of these chains. Yet they were certainly a 
 necessary part of human development. Order, love of law, re- 
 spect for human life, education in the power of self-government, 
 such material advance as prepared the way — all these things 
 had to be taught. No one could teach them or enforce them 
 but the priest, by the authority and in the wisdom of the Church. 
 On the whole, he did his best. At the darkest time the Church 
 was always a little in advance of the people ; the Church at the 
 lowest preserved some standard of morals, and of conduct ; and 
 even if the standard was low, why, it was higher than that of the 
 laity. 
 
 When we see the Franciscans preaching to the people ; the 
 Carthusians cowering silent and gloomy in their cells ; the Do- 
 minicans insisting on the letter of the Faith ; kings and queens, 
 and great lords trying to get buried in the holy soil of a monas- 
 tery church — let us recognise that, out of this discipline emerged 
 the Londoner of Queen Bess, eager for adventure and for enter- 
 prise : the Londoner who was so stout for liberty that he drove 
 out one king and then another king, and set aside a dynasty for 
 the sacred cause ; the Londoner of our own time, who is no whit 
 inferior to his forefathers. 
 
 One other form of religious society must be mentioned — that 
 of the Fraternity. There were Fraternities attached to every 
 church. Those of the same trade in a parish — those of the same 
 trade in many parishes — united together in a Fraternity — of the 
 Blessed Virgin, of the Holy Trinity, of the Corpus Christi, of 
 Saint this or that. All the Danes in London joined together to 
 make a Fraternity — or all the Dutch. All the fishmongers, or 
 all the pepperers ; they formed fraternities — not yet trades-unions 
 or companies — which had masses sung for the souls of their 
 brethren ; met in the churches on their Saint's Day ; had solemn 
 service^ and a procession and a feast. It is only by such a bond 
 
PLANTAGENET 105 
 
 as this that any calh'ng or trade can become dignified, self- 
 respecting, and independent. The Fraternities were founded, 
 for the most part, before the Companies. These could not have 
 existed at all but for the impetus to union given by the Frater- 
 nities. Common action — the most important discovery ever 
 made for the common welfare — was made possible, among those 
 who would otherwise have been torn asunder by rivalries and 
 trade jealousies, by the Fraternities. 
 
 Among the thirty-one who formed the goodly company which 
 pilgrimised to Canterbury with Chaucer, twelve belonged to the 
 Church. Was this proportion accidental ? I think not. Chaucer 
 placed in his company such a proportion of ecclesiastics as would 
 be expected on such an occasion. The portraits of Chaucer are 
 taken from the life : he saw them in the streets of London ; in 
 the houses ; in the churches. It helps us to understand the City, 
 only to read those portraits over again. Are they so well known 
 that it is superfluous to do more than refer to them } Perhaps 
 not. Let us take them briefly. There is the Prioress, who has 
 with her a nun for chaplain and three priests. She is a gentle- 
 woman, smiling, coy, dainty in her habits and in her dress ; she 
 is tender- hearted and fond of pets : the nun's wimple is plaited ; 
 on her arm she wears beads with a gold brooch — 
 
 On whiche was first y-written a crowned A, 
 And after Amor vincit omnia. 
 
 She is lively, affectionate, and amiable, but she affects dignity 
 as a Prioress should. Clearly the superior of an Order whose 
 vows are not too strict, and whose austerities respect the weak- 
 ness of the sex. Who does not know, at the present day, hun- 
 dreds of gentle maiden ladies who might sit for the portrait of 
 the Prioress? 
 
 Then comes the Limitour, one who held theT'Bishop's license 
 to hear confessions, and to officiate within a certain district. This 
 felifliw is everybody's friend so long as he gets paid : the country 
 gentlemen like him, and the good wives like him, because he hears 
 confessions sweetly and enjoins easy penance ; he could sing and 
 play ; he could drink ; he knew all the taverns ; he was to ap- 
 pearance a merry, careless toper ; in reality, he was courteous 
 only to the rich, and « thought continually about his gains. 
 He kept his district to himself, buying off those who tried to 
 practise within his limits. A natural product, the Limitour of 
 
fo6 LONDON 
 
 a time when outward forms make up all the religion that is 
 demanded. 
 
 The Oxford Clerk has no benefice because he has no interest. 
 All the money that he got he spent in books ; his horse was lean ; 
 he himself was lean and hollow. He travels to foreign univer- 
 sities in order to converse with scholars. 
 
 The Monk was a big brawny man, bald-headed, and his robe 
 was trimmed with fur ; a great hunter who kept greyhounds and 
 had many horses. He was fat and in good point ; he loved a 
 fat swan best of any roast ; he wore a gold pin with a love knot. 
 Obedience to the Rules of his Order is not, it seems, ever 
 expected of such a man. 
 
 The Town Parson, of low origin, a learned man who loved 
 his people, and was content with poverty, and gave all to the 
 poor, and was ever at their service in all weathers. The picture 
 of the good clergyman might serve for to-day. His parish was 
 wide, but he went about 
 
 Upon his feet, and in his hand a staf. 
 
 This noble ensaumple unto his scheep he yaf, 
 
 That first he wrought, and after that he taughte 
 
 Out of the gospel he the wordes caughte, 
 
 And this figure he added yet thereto, 
 
 That if gold ruste, what scholde yren do ? 
 
 The Sompnour, or Summoner, an officer of the Ecclesiastical 
 courts, is only half an ecclesiastic. His portrait is pure farce. 
 
 Lastly, there is the Pardoner. He is the hypocrite. He 
 carried sham relics about with him, and sold pigs' bones for 
 precious and holy remains warranted to heal sheep and cattle, 
 to bring good harvests, to prolong life, to bring increase of 
 sowing. 
 
 Of avarice and of swiche cursednesse 
 
 Is al my preching, for to make hem free 
 
 To yeve hir pense, and namely unto me. 
 
 I wol non of the Apostles counterfete, 
 
 1 wol have money, wolle, chese, and whete. 
 
 Al were it yeven of the pourest page. 
 
 Or of the pourest widewe in a village, 
 
 Al schulde hire children sterven for famine. 
 
 If such pictures as these could be drawn and freely circulated. 
 
PLANTAGENET 107 
 
 the first step was taken towards the Reformation. Only the 
 first step. Before Reformation comes there must be more than 
 the clear eyes of the prophets able to see and to proclaim the 
 truth. The eyes of the people must be washed so that they, too, 
 can discern the truth behind these splendid vestments and this 
 gorgeous structure of authority. 
 
 Such, so great, was the power and the wealth of the Church 
 from the twelfth to the sixteenth century. Every street had its 
 parish church with charities and Fraternities and endowments ; 
 colleges, Houses for priests, almeries, hospitals, were scattered all 
 about the City ; within and without the wall, there were fifteen 
 great Houses, whose splendour can only be understood by the 
 ruins of Tintern, Glastonbury, Fountains, or Whitby. Every 
 House was possessed of- rich manors, and broad lands ; every 
 House had its treasury filled with title deeds as well as with 
 heaps of gold and silver plate ; every House had its church 
 crowded with marble monuments, adorned with rich shrines and 
 blazing altars and painted glass, such as we can no longer make. 
 Outside, the humblest parish church showed on its frescoed walls 
 the warnings of Death and Judgment, the certainty of Heaven 
 and Hell. And they thought — priest and people alike — that it 
 was all going to last for ever. Humanity had no other earthly 
 hope than a continuance of the bells of Pile Sonnante, 
 
[o8 
 
 LONDON 
 
 IV 
 PLANTAGENET— continued 
 
 II. PRINCE AND MERCHANT 
 
 T is never safe to adopt in blind confidence the 
 conclusions of the antiquary. He 
 works with fragments ; here it is a 
 passage in an old deed ; here a few 
 lines of poetry ; here a broken vase ;, 
 here the capital of a column ; here 
 a drawing, cramped, and out of pro- 
 portion, and dwarfed, from an illu- 
 minated manuscript. This kind of 
 work tends to belittle everything ; 
 the splendid city becomes a mean, 
 small town ; King Solomon's 
 Temple, glorious and vast, shrinks 
 to the dimensions of a village con- 
 venticle ; Behemoth himself be- 
 comes an alligator ; Leviathan, a 
 Erected by Edward I. inmemory of y^Q^^o;^^^' history, read by this re- 
 
 Queen Eleanor of Castile. \ • i i • /« 
 
 ducmg lens, becomes a series of 
 patriotic exaggerations. For instance, the late Dr. Brewer, a 
 true antiquary, if ever there was one, could see in mediaeval 
 London nothing but a collection of mean and low tenements 
 standing among squalid streets and filthy lanes. That this 
 estimate of the City is wholly incorrect we shall now proceed to 
 show. Any city, ancient or modern, might be described as con- 
 sisting of mean and squalid houses, because in every city the 
 poor outnumber the rich, and the small houses of the poor are 
 more frequent than the mansions of the wealthy. 
 
 When one who wishes to reconstruct a city of the past has 
 obtained from the antiquary all he has discovered, and from the 
 
 
 CHARING CROSS 
 
PLANTAGENET 109 
 
 historian all he has to tell, there is yet another field of research 
 open to him before he begins his task. It is the place itself — 
 the terrain — the site of the town, or the modern town upon the 
 site of the old. He must examine that ; prowl about it ; search 
 into it ; consider the neglected corners of it. I will give an 
 example. Fifty years ago a certain learned antiquary and 
 scholar visited the site of an ancient Syrian city, now sadly 
 reduced, and little more than a village. He looked at the place 
 — he did not explore it— he looked at it ; he then read whatever 
 history has found to say of it ; he proceeded to prove that the 
 /place could never have been more than a small and insignificant 
 town composed of huts and inhabited by fishermen. Those who 
 spoke of it as a magnificent city he called enthusiasts or liars. 
 Forty years passed ; then another man came ; he not only visited 
 the site, but examined it, surveyed it, and explored it. This 
 man discovered that the place had formerly possessed a wall — 
 the remains still existirig — two miles and more in length ; an 
 acropolis, strong and well situated — the ruins still standing — 
 protecting a noble city with splendid buildings. The antiquary, 
 you see, dealing with little fragments, could not rise above them ; 
 his fragments seemed to belong to a whole which was puny and 
 insignificant. This antiquary was Dr. Robinson ; and the place 
 was the once famous city of Tiberias, by the shores of the Gali- 
 lean lake. 
 
 In exactly the same manner he who would understand medi- 
 aeval London must walk about modern London, but after he has 
 read his historian and his antiquary^ not before. Then he will be 
 astonished to find how much is left, in spite of fires, reconstruc- 
 tions, and demolitions, to illustrate the past. 
 
 Here a quaint little square, accessible only to foot-passengers, 
 shut in, surrounded by merchants' offices, still preserves its 
 ancient form of a court in a suppressed monastery. Since the 
 church is close by, one ought to be able to assign the court to 
 its proper purpose. The hall, the chapter-house, the kitchens 
 and buttery, the abbot's residence, may have been built around 
 this court. 
 
 Again, another little square set with trees, like a Place in 
 Toulon or Marseilles, shows the former court of a royal palace. 
 And here a venerable name survives telling what once stood on 
 the site ; here a dingy little churchyard marks the former posi- 
 tion of a church as ancient as any in the City. 
 
no LONDON 
 
 London is full of such survivals, which are known only to one 
 who prowls about its streets, note-book in hand, remembering 
 what he has read. Not one of them can be got from the book 
 antiquary, or from the guide book. As one after the other is 
 recovered the ancient city grows not only more vivid, but more 
 picturesque and more splendid. London a city of low mean 
 tenements ? Dr. Brewer — Dr. Brewer ! Why, I see great 
 palaces along the river-bank between the quays and ports and 
 warehouses. In the narrow lanes that rise steeply from the 
 river I see other houses fair and stately, each with its gateway, its 
 square court, and its noble hall, high roofed, with its oriel-win- 
 dows and its lantern. Beyond these narrow lanes, north of 
 Watling Street and Budge Row, more of those houses— and 
 still more, till we reach the northern part where the houses are 
 nearly all small, because here the meaner sort and those who 
 carry on the least desirable trades have those dwellings. 
 
 You have seen that London was full of rich monasteries, 
 nunneries, colleges, and parish churches, insomuch that it might 
 be likened unto the Ik Sonnante of Rabelais. You have now to 
 learn, what I believe no one has ever yet pointed out, that if it 
 could be called a city of churches it was much more a city of 
 palaces. This shall immediately be made clear. There were, 
 in fact, in London itself more palaces than in Verona and Flo- 
 rence and Venice and Genoa all together. There was not, it is 
 true, a line of marble palazzi along the banks of a Grande 
 Canale ; there was no Piazza della Signoria, no Piazza della 
 Erbe to show these buildings. They were scattered about all 
 over the City ; they were built without regard to general effect 
 and with no idea of decoration or picturesqueness ; they lay 
 hidden in narrow winding labyrinthine streets ; the warehouses 
 stood beside and between them ; the common people dwelt in 
 narrow courts around them ; they faced each other on opposite 
 sides of the lanes. 
 
 These palaces belonged to the great nobles and were their 
 town houses ; they were capacious enough to accommodate the 
 whole of a baron's retinue, consisting sometimes of four, six, or 
 even eight hundred men. Let us remark that the continual 
 presence of these lords and their following did much more for 
 the City than merely to add to its splendour by the erecting ot 
 great houses. By their residence they prevented the place from 
 becoming merely a trading centre or an aggregate of merchants ; 
 
PLANTAGENET lU 
 
 ihey kept the citizens in touch with the rest of the kingdom ; 
 they made the people of London understand that they belonged 
 to the Realm of England. When Warwick, the King-maker, 
 rode through the streets to his town house, followed by five hun- 
 dred retainers in his livery ; when King Edward the Fourth 
 brought wife and children to the City and left them there under 
 the protection of the Londoners while he rode out to fight for his 
 crown ; when a royal tournament was held in Chepe — the Queen 
 and her ladies looking on — then the very schoolboys learned and 
 understood that there was more in the world than mere buying 
 and selling, importing and exporting ; that everything must not 
 be measured by profit ; that they were traders indeed, and yet 
 subjects of an ancient crown ; that their own prosperity stood or 
 fell with the well-doing of the country. This it was which made 
 the Londoners ardent politicians from very early times ; they 
 knew the party leaders who had lived among them ; the City 
 was compelled to take a side, and the citizens quickly perceived 
 that their own side always won — a thing which gratified their 
 pride. In a word, the presence in their midst of king and nobles 
 made them look beyond their walls. London was never a Ghent ; 
 nor was it a Venice. It was never London for itself against the 
 world, but always London for England first, and for its own 
 interests next. 
 
 Again the City palaces, the town houses of the noblef, were 
 at no time, it must be remembered, fortresses. The only fortress 
 of the City was the White Tower. The houses were neither 
 castellated nor fortified nor garrisoned. They were entered by 
 a gate, but there was neither ditch nor portcullis. The gate — 
 only a pair of wooden doors — led into an open court rourld which 
 the buildings stood. Examples of this way of building may still 
 be seen in London. For instance. Staple Inn, or Barnard's Inn, 
 affords an excellent illustration of a mediaeval mansion. There 
 are in each two square courts with a gateway leading from the 
 road into the Inn. Between the courts is a hall with its kitchen 
 and buttery. Clifford's Inn, Gray's Inn and Old Square, Lincoln's 
 Inn are also good examples. Sion College, before they wickedly 
 destroyed it, showed the hall and the court. Hampton Court is 
 a late example, the position of the Hall having been changed. 
 Gresham House was built about a court. So was the Mansion 
 House. Till a few yeaft ago Northumberland House at Char- 
 ing Cross illustrated the disposition of such mansions. Those 
 
112 
 
 LONDON 
 
 who walk down Queen Victoria Street in the City pass on the 
 north side a red brick house standing round three sides of a 
 quadrangle. This is the Heralds' College ; a few years ago it 
 preserved its fourth side with its gateway. Four hundred years 
 ago this was the town-house of the Earls of Derby. Restore the 
 front and you have the size of a great noble's town palace, yet 
 
 not one of the largest. If you 
 wish to understand the disposition 
 of such a building as a nobleman's 
 town house, compare it with the 
 Quadrangle of Clare or that of 
 
 I. THE COLLEGE OF ARMS, OR HERALDS' OFFICE. 
 2. BRIDEWELL. 3. VIEW OF THE SAVOY FROM 
 THE THAMES 
 
 Queens', Cambridge. 
 Derby House was 
 burned down in the 
 Fire and was rebuilt 
 without its hall, kit- 
 chen, and butteries, 
 for which there was 
 no longer any use. 
 As it was before the 
 
 Fire, a broad and noble arch with a low tower, but showing no 
 appearance of fortification, opened into the square court which 
 was used as an exercising ground for the men at arms. In the 
 rooms around the court was their sleeping accommodation ; at 
 the side or opposite the entrance stood the hall where the whole 
 household took meals ; opposite to the hall was the kitchen with 
 its butteries ; over the butteries was the room called the Solar, 
 
PLANTAGENET 
 
 113 
 
 where the Earl and Countess slept ; beyond the hall was an- 
 other room called the Lady's Bower, where the ladies could 
 retire from the rough talk of the followers. We have already 
 spoken of this arrangement. The houses beside the river were 
 provided with stairs, at the foot of which was the state barge in 
 which my Lord and my Lady took the air on fine days and were 
 rowed to and from the Court at Westminster. 
 
 There remains nothing of these houses. They are, with one 
 
 
 VIEW OF THE SOUTH FRONT OF EAYKARD'S CASTLE, 
 ^ ABOUT 1640 
 
 ^^ 
 - y^ exception, all swept away. Yet the de- 
 
 "T^^^i^ scription of one or two, the site of others, 
 
 and the actual remains of one sufficiently 
 
 prove their magnificence. Let us take one or two about which 
 
 something is known. For instance, there is Baynard's Castle, 
 
 the name of which still survives in that of Baynard's Castle Ward, 
 
 and in that of a wharf which is still called by the name of the 
 
 old palace. 
 
 Baynard's Castle stoo^ first on the river-bank close to the 
 
 Fleet Tower and the western extremity of the wall. The great 
 
 house which afterwards bore this name was on the bank, but a 
 
 ♦ I 
 
114 LONDON 
 
 little more to the east. There was no house in the City more 
 interesting than this. Its history extends from the Norman 
 Conquest to the Great Fire — exactly six hundred years ; and 
 during the whole of this long period it was a great palace. First 
 it was built by one Baynard, follower of William. It was for- 
 feited in A.D. nil, and given to Robert Fitzwalter, son of 
 Richard, Earl of Clare, in whose family the office of Castellan 
 and Standard-bearer to the City of London became hereditary. 
 His descendant, Robert, in revenge for private injuries, took 
 part with the Barons against King John, for which the King or- 
 dered Baynard's Castle to be destroyed. Fitzwalter, however, 
 becoming reconciled to the King, was permitted to rebuild his 
 house. It was again destroyed, this time by fire, in 1428. It 
 was rebuilt by Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, on whose 
 attainder it reverted to the crown. During one of these re- 
 buildings it was somewhat shifted in position. Richard, Duke 
 of York, next had it, and lived here with his following of four 
 hundred gentlemen and men at arms. It was in the hall of 
 Baynard's Castle that Edward IV. assumed the title of king, and 
 summoned the bishops, peers, and judges to meet him in council. 
 Edward gave the house to his mother, and placed in it for safety 
 his wife and children before going out to fight the battle of 
 Barnet. Here Buckingham offered the crown to Richard. 
 
 Alas ! why would you heap these cares on me ? 
 
 I am unfit for state and majesty ; 
 
 I do beseech you, take it not amiss — • 
 
 I cannot, nor I will not, yield to you. 
 
 Henry VIII. lived in this palace, which he almost entirely 
 rebuilt. Prince Henry, after his marriage with Catherine of 
 Aragon, was conducted in great state up the river, from 
 Baynard's Castle to Westminster, the Mayor and Commonalty 
 of the City following in their barges. In the time of Edward VI., 
 the Earl of Pembroke, whose wife was sister to Queen Catherine 
 Parr, held great state in this house. Here he proclaimed Queen 
 Mary. When Mary's first Parliament was held, he proceeded 
 to Baynard's Castle, followed by ' 2,000 horsemen in velvet coats 
 with their laces of gold and gold chains, besides sixty gentlemen 
 in blue coats with his badge of the green dragon.' This power- 
 ful noble lived to entertain Queen Elizabeth at Baynard's Castle 
 with a banquet, followed by fireworks. The last appearance of 
 
PLANTAGENET 
 
 IIS 
 
 the place in history is when Charles II. took supper there just 
 before the Fire swept over it and destroyed it. 
 
 Another house by the river was that called Cold Harborough 
 or Cold Inn. 
 
 This house stood to the west of the old Swan Stairs. It was 
 built by a rich City merchant, Sir John Poultney,four times Mayor 
 of London. At the end of the fourteenth century it belonged, 
 
 VIEW OF COLD HARBOUR, IN THAMES 
 STREET, ABOUT 160O 
 
 however, to John Holland, Duke 
 of Exeter, son of Thomas Hol- 
 land, Duke of Kent, and Joan 
 
 Plantagcnet, the ' Fair Maid of Kent' He was half-brother to 
 King Richard II., whom here he entertained. Richard III. gave it 
 to the Heralds for their college. They were turned out, however, 
 by Henry VII., who gave the house to his mother, Margaret, 
 Countess of Richmond. His son gave it to the Earl of Shrewsbury, 
 by whose son it was takeg down, one knows not why, and mean 
 tenements erected in its place for the river-side working men. 
 Another royal residence was the house called the Erber. 
 
 I 2 
 
ii6 
 
 LONDON 
 
 This house also has a long history. It is said to have been first 
 built by the Kn'ght Pont de I'Arche, founder of the Priory of 
 St. Mary Overies. Edward III. gave it to Geoffrey le Scrope. 
 It passed from him to John, Lord Neville, of Raby, and 
 5o to his son Ralph Neville, Earl of Westmoreland, the 
 staunch supporter of Henry IV. From him the Erber passed 
 into the hands of another branch of the Nevilles, the Earls of 
 Salisbury and Warwick. The King-maker resided here, with a 
 following so numerous that six oxen were daily consumed for 
 breakfast alone, and any person who was allowed within the 
 gates could take away as much meat, sodden and roast, as he 
 could carry upon a long dagger. After his death, George, Duke 
 
 CROSBY HOUSE, BISHOPSGATE STREET 
 
 of Clarence — * false, fleeting, perjured Clarence ' — obtained a 
 grant of the house, in right of his wife, Isabel, daughter of 
 Warwick. Richard, Duke of Gloucester, succeeded, and called 
 it the King's Palace during his brief reign. Edward, son of the 
 Duke of Clarence, then obtained it. In the year 1584 the place, 
 which seems to have fallen into decay, was rebuilt by Sir 
 Thomas Pulsdon, Lord Mayor. Its last illustrious occupant, 
 according to Stow, was Sir Francis Drake. 
 
 We are fortunate in having left one house at least, or a frag- 
 ment of one, out of the many London palaces. The Fire of 
 1666 spared Crosby Place, and though most of the old mansion 
 has been pulled down, there yet remains the Hall, the so-called 
 
PLANTAGENET 
 
 117 
 
 Throne Room, and the so-called Council Room. The mansion 
 formerly covered the greater part of what is now called Crosby 
 Square. It was built by a simple citizen, a grocer and Lord 
 
 'rirtl^n^JMl^^.. 
 
 INTERIOR OF CROSBY HALL 
 
 Mayor, Sir John Crosby, in the fifteenth century ; a man of great 
 wealth and great positioij ; a merchant, diplomatist, and ambassa- 
 dor. He rode north to welcome Edward IV. when he landed 
 at Ravenspur ; he was sent by the King on a mission to the 
 
ii8 
 
 LONDON 
 
 Duke of Burgundy and to the Duke of Brittany. Shakespeare 
 makes Richard of Gloucester living in this house as early as 
 1 47 1, four years before the death of Sir John Crosby, a thing 
 not likely. But he was living here at the death of Edward IV., 
 and here he held his levees before his usurpation of the crown. 
 In this hall, where now the City clerks snatch a hasty dinner, 
 
 INTERIOR OF PART OF CROSBY HALL, CALLED THE COUNCIL ROOM, 
 LOOKING EAST 
 
 sat the last and worst of the Plantagenets thinking of the two 
 boys who stood between him and the crown. Here he received 
 the news of their murder. Here he feasted with his friends. 
 The place is charged with the memory of Richard Plantagenet. 
 Early in the next century another Lord Mayor obtained it, and 
 lent it to the ambassador of the Emperor Maximilian. It 
 passed next into the hands of a third citizen, also Lord Mayor, 
 
PLANTAGENET 
 
 119 
 
 and was bought in 15 16 by Sir Thomas More, who lived here for 
 seven years, and wrote in this house his Utopia and his Life of 
 Richard the Third. His friend Antonio Bonvici, a merchant of 
 Lucca, next lived in the house. To him More wrote his well- 
 known letter from the Tower. William Roper, More's son-in- 
 law, and William Rustill, his nephew ; Sir Thomas d'Arcy ; 
 William Bond, Alderman and Sheriff, and merchant adventurer ; 
 Sir John Spencer, ancestor of Lord Northampton ; Mary, 
 Countess of Pembroke, and sister of Sir Philip Sidney — 
 
 •A*"-'-^^*— — r.^*- 
 
 GATEWAY, ETC., IN CROSBY SQUARE (NOW DESTROYED) 
 
 The gentlest shepherdess that lived that day ; 
 And most resembling, both in shape and spirit, 
 Her brother dear — 
 
 the Earl of Northampton, who accompanied Charles L to Madrid 
 on his romantic journey ; Sir Stephen Langham — were succes- 
 sive owners or occupants of this house. It was partly destroyed 
 by fire — not the Great Fire —in the reign of Charles H. The 
 Hall, which escaped, was for seventy years a Presbyterian meet- 
 ing-house ; it then became a packer's warehouse. Sixty years 
 
120 
 
 LONDON 
 
 ago it was partly restored, and became a literary institution. It 
 is now a restaurant, gaudy with colour and gilding. The Due 
 de Biron, ambassador from France in the reign of Queen Eliza- 
 
 CROSBY HALL 
 
 beth, was lodged here, with four hundred noblemen and gentle- 
 men in his train. And here also was lodged the Due de Sully. 
 In a narrow street in the city, called Tower Royal — Tour 
 De La Reole, built by merchants from Bordeaux — survives the 
 name of a house where King Stephen lived in the short intervals 
 when he was not fighting: King Richard II. gave it to his 
 
PLANTAGENET 
 
 121 
 
 mother, and called it the Queen's Wardrobe : he afterwards 
 assigned it to Leon III., King of Armenia, who had been dis- 
 possessed by the Turks. Richard III. gave it to John, Duke of 
 Norfolk, who lived here until his death at the battle of Bosworth 
 Field. There is no description of the house, which must have 
 had a tower of some kind, and there is no record of its demoli- 
 
 ^r%/^^ 
 
 NORTH-EAST VIEW OF CROSBY HALL, SHOWING PART OF THE INTERIOR OF 
 THE GREAT HALL 
 
 tion : Stow only says that * of late times it has been neglected 
 and turned into stabling for the king's horses, and is now let out 
 to divers men, and is divided into tenements.' 
 
 The Heralds' College in Queen Victoria Street, already 
 mentioned, stands on the site of Derby House. Here the first 
 Earl, who married the mother of Henry VII., lived. Here the 
 Princess Elizabeth of York was the guest of the Earl during the 
 
122 LONDON 
 
 usurpation of Richard. The house was destroyed in the Fire 
 and rebuilt in a quadrangle, of which the front portion was 
 removed to make room for the new street. 
 
 Half a dozen great houses do not make a city of palaces. 
 That is true. Let us find others. Here, then, is a list, by no 
 means exhaustive, drawn up from the pages of Stow. The 
 Fitz Alans, Earls of Arundel, had their town house in Botolph 
 Lane, Billingsgate, down to the end of the sixteenth century. 
 The street is, and always has been, narrow, and, from its proxi- 
 mity to the fish-market, is, and always has been, unsavoury. 
 The Earls of Northumberland had town houses successively in 
 Crutched Friars, Fenchurch Street, and Aldersgate Street. The 
 Earls of Worcester lived in Worcester Lane, on the river-bank ; 
 the Duke of Buckingham on College Hill — observe how the 
 nobles, like the merchants, built their houses in the most busy 
 part of the town. The Beaumonts and the Huntingdons lived 
 beside Paul's Wharf; the Lords of Berkeley had a house near 
 Blackfriars ; Doctors' Commons was the town house of the 
 Blounts, Lords Mountjoy. Close to Paul's Wharf stood the 
 mansion once occupied by the widow of Richard, Duke of York, 
 mother of Edward IV., Clarence, and Richard HI. Edward 
 the Black Prince lived on Fish Street Hill — the house was after- 
 ward turned into an inn. The De La Poles had a house in 
 Lombard Street. The De Veres, Earls of Oxford, lived first in 
 St. Mary Axe, and afterward in Oxford Court, St. Swithin's 
 Lane ; Cromwell, Earl of Essex, had a house in Throgmorton 
 Street. The Barons Fitzwalter had a house where now stands 
 Grocers' Hall, Poultry. In Aldersgate Street were houses of 
 the Earl of Westmoreland, the Earl of Northumberland, and the 
 Earl of Thanet, Lord Percie, and the Marquis of Dorchester. 
 Suffolk Lane marks the site of the ' Manor of the Rose,' belong- 
 ing successively to the Suffolks and the Bucklnghams ; Lovell's 
 Court, Paternoster Row, marks the site of the Lovell's mansion ; 
 between Amen Corner and Ludgate Street, stood Abergavenny 
 House, where lived in the reign of Edward II. the Earl of Rich- 
 mond and Duke of Brittany, grandson of Henry III. After- 
 ward it became the house of John Hastings, Earl of Pembroke, 
 who married Lady Margaret, daughter of Edward III. It 
 passed to the Nevilles, Earls of Abergavenny, and from them to 
 the Stationers' Company. Warwick Lane runs over Warwick 
 House. The Sidneys, Earls of Leicester, lived in the Old 
 
PLANTAGENET 
 
 123 
 
 Bailey. The Staftords, Dukes of Buckingham, lived in Milk 
 Street. 
 
 Such a list, numbering no fewer than thirty-five palaces — 
 which is not exhaustive and does not include the town houses 
 of the Bishops and great Abbots, nor the halls of the companies, 
 many of them very noble, nor the houses used for the business 
 of the city, as Blackwell Hall and Guildhall — is, I think, sufficient 
 to prove my statement that London was a city of palaces. 
 
 Nothing, again, has been said about the houses of the rich 
 merchants, some of which were much finer than those of the 
 nobles. Crosby Hall, as has been seen, was built by a merchant. 
 In Basing Lane (now swallowed up by those greedy devourers 
 of old houses, Cannon Street, and Queen Victoria Street), stood 
 
 gerrard's hall 
 
 Gerrard's Hall, with a Norman Crypt and a high-roofed Hall, 
 where once they kept a Maypole and called it Giant Gerrard's 
 staff. This was the hall of the house built by John Gisors, 
 Mayor in the year 1305. The Vintners' Hall stands on the site 
 of a great house built by Sir John Stodie, Mayor in 1357. In 
 the house called the Vintry, Sir Henry Picard, Mayor, once 
 entertained a very noble company indeed. Among them were 
 King Edward III., King John of France, King David of Scot- 
 land, the King of Cyprus, and the Black Prince. After the 
 banquet they gambled, the Lord Mayor defending the bank 
 against all comers with^dice and hazard. The King of Cyprus 
 lost his money, and, unfortunately, his Royal temper as well. 
 To lose the latter was a common infirmity among the kings of 
 
124 LONDON 
 
 those ages. The Royal Rage of the proverb is one of those 
 subjects which the essayist enters in his notes and never finds 
 the time to treat Then up spake Sir Henry, with admonition 
 in his voice : Did his Highness of Cyprus really believe that the 
 Lord Mayor, a merchant adventurer of London, whose ships 
 rode at anchor in the Cyprian King's port of Famagusta, should 
 seek to win the money of him or of any other king ? ' My Lord 
 and King,' he said, ' be not aggrieved. I court not your gold, 
 but your play ; for I have not bidden you hither that you might 
 grieve.' And so gave the king his money back. But John, 
 King of France, and David, King of Scotland, and the Black 
 Prince murmured and whispered that it was not fitting for a 
 king to take back money lost at play. And the good old king 
 Edward stroked his grey beard but refrained from words. 
 
 Another entertainer of kings was Whittington. What sayeth 
 the wise man ? 
 
 ' Seest thou a man diligent in his business ? He shall 
 stand before kings.' 
 
 They used to show an old house in Hart Lane, rich with 
 carved wood, as Whittington's, but he must have lived in his 
 own parish of St. Michael's, Paternoster Royal, and, one is pretty 
 certain, on the spot where was afterwards built his college, 
 which stood on the north side of the church. Here he enter- 
 tained Henry of Agincourt and Katherine his bride, with a 
 magnificence, which astonished the king. But Whittington 
 knew what he was doing ; the banquet was not ostentation and 
 display ; its cost was far more than repaid by the respect for the 
 wealth and power of the city which it nourished and maintained 
 in the kingly mind. The memory of this and other such feasts, 
 we may be very sure, had its after effect even upon those most 
 masterful of sovereigns, Henry VHI. and Queen Bess. On this 
 occasion it was nothing that the tables groaned with good things, 
 and glittered with gold and silver plate ; it was nothing that 
 the fires were fed with cedar and perfumed wood. For this 
 princely Mayor fed these fires after dinner with nothing less 
 than the king's bonds to the amount of 60,000/. In purchasing 
 power that sum would now be represented by a million and a 
 quarter. 
 
 A truly royal gift. 
 
 It was not given to many merchants, * sounding always the 
 increase of their winning/ thus to thrive and prosper. Most of 
 
PLANTAGENET 125 
 
 them lived in more modest dwellings. All of them lived in 
 comparative discomfort, according to modern ideas. When we 
 read of mediaeval magnificence we must remember that the 
 standard of what we call comfort was much lower in most 
 respects than at present. In the matter of furniture, for 
 instance, though the house was splendid inside and out with 
 carvings, coats of arms painted and gilt, there were but two or 
 three beds in it, the servants sleeping on the floor ; the bed- 
 rooms were small and dark ; the tables were still laid on trestles, 
 and removed when the meal was finished ; there were benches 
 where we have chairs ; and for carpet they had rushes or mats 
 of plaited straw ; and though the tapestry was costly, the 
 Avindows were draughty, and the doors ill-fitting. When, with 
 the great commercial advance of the fourteenth century, space 
 by the river became more valuable, the disposition of the Hall, 
 with its little court, became necessarily modified. The house, 
 which was warehouse as well as residence, ran up into several 
 stories high — the earliest maps of London show many such 
 houses beside Queenhithe, and in the busiest and most crowded 
 parts of the City ; on every storey there was a wide door, for the 
 reception of bales and crates ; a rope and pulley were fixed to a 
 beam at the highest gable for hoisting and lowering the goods. 
 The front of the house was finely ornamented with carved wood 
 work. One may still see such houses — streets full of them — in 
 the ancient city of Hildesheim near Hanover. 
 
 On the river bank, exactly under what is now Cannon Street 
 Railway Station, stood the Steelyard, Guildae Aula Teutoni- 
 corum. In appearance it was a house of stone, with a quay 
 toward the river, a square court, a noble Hali, and three arched 
 gates toward Thames Street. This was the house of the 
 Hanseatic League, whose merchants for three hundred years 
 and more enjoyed the monopoly of importing hemp, corn, wax, 
 steel, linen cloths, and, in fact, carried on the whole trade with 
 Germany and the Baltic, so that until the London merchants 
 pushed out their ships into the Mediterranean and the Levant, 
 their foreign trade was small, and their power of gaining wealth 
 small in proportion. This strange privilege granted to foreigners 
 grew by degrees. At first, unless the foreign merchants of the 
 Hanse towns and of I^anders, and of France, had not brought 
 over their wares, they could not have sold them, because there 
 were no London merchants to import them. Therefore they 
 
126 LONDON 
 
 came, and they came to stay. They gradually obtained privi- 
 leges ; they were careful to obey the laws, and give no cause for 
 jealousy or offence ; and they kept their privileges, living apart 
 in their own college, till Edward VI. at last took them away. 
 In memory of their long residence in the City, the merchants of 
 Hamburg in the reign of Queen Anne presented the church 
 where they had worshipped. All Hallows the Great, with a 
 magnificent screen of carved wood. The church, built by Wren 
 after the Fire, is a square box of no architectural pretensions, 
 but is glorified by this screen. 
 
 The great (comparative) wealth of the City is shown by the 
 proportion it was called upon to pay towards the king's loans. 
 In 1397, for instance, London was assessed at 6,6661. i^fS. 4</., 
 while Bristol, which came next, was called upon for 800/. only, 
 Norwich for 333/., and Boston for 300/., and Plymouth for no 
 more than 20/. And in the graduated poll tax of 1379, the 
 Lord Mayor of London had to pay 4/. — the same as an Earl, 
 a Bishop, or a mitred Abbot, while the Aldermen were regarded 
 as on the same line with Barons and paid 2/. each. 
 
 Between the merchant adventurers, who sometimes enter- 
 tained kings and had a fleet of ships always on the sea, and the 
 retail trader there was as great a gulf then as at any after time. 
 Between the retail trader, who was an employer of labour 
 and the craftsman there was a still greater gulf The former 
 lived in plenty and in comfort. His house was provided with 
 a spacious hearth, and windows of which the upper part, at 
 least, was of glass. The latter lived in one of the mean and low 
 tenements, which, according to Dr. Brewer, made up the whole 
 of London. There were a great many of those, because there 
 are always a great many poor in a large town. Nay, there were 
 narrow lanes and filthy courts, where there were nothing but 
 one-storied hovels, built of wattle and clay, the roof thatched 
 with reeds, the fire burning in the middle of the room, the 
 occupants sleeping in old Saxon fashion, wrapped in rugs 
 around the central fire. The lanes and courts were narrow and 
 unpaved, and filthy with every kind of refuse. In those crowded 
 and fetid streets, the plague broke out, fevers always lingered, 
 the children died of putrid throat, and in these places began the 
 devastating fires that from time to time swept the City. 
 
 The main streets of the City were not mean at all ; they were 
 broad, well built, picturesque. If here and there a small tene- 
 
PLANTAGENET 
 
 127 
 
 ment reared its timbered and plastered front among the tall 
 gables, it added to the beauty of the street ; it broke the line. 
 Take Chepe, for instance, the principal seat of retail trade. At the 
 western end stood the Church of St. Michael le Quern, where 
 Paternoster Row begins. On the north side were the churches 
 
 BRIDEWELL PALACE, ABOUT 1660, WITH 
 THE ENTRANCE TO THE FLEET RIVER, 
 PART OF THE BLACK FRIARS, ETC. 
 
 of St. Peter West Chepe, St. 
 Thomas Aeon, St. Mary Cole 
 Church, and St. Mildred. On 
 the south side were the churches 
 of St. Mary le Bow and St Mary Woolchurch. In the streets 
 running north and south rose the spires of twenty other churches. 
 On the west side of St. Mary le Bow stood a long stone gallery, 
 from which the Queen and her ladies could witness the tourna- 
 ments and the ridings, •in the middle was the * Standard,' with 
 a conduit of fresh water ; there were two crosses, one being that 
 
128 LONDON 
 
 erected by Edward I., to mark a resting place of his dead 
 Queen. Round the ' Standard ' were booths. At the west end 
 of Chepe were selds, which are believed to have been open 
 bazaars for the sale of goods. Another cross stood at the west 
 end, close to St. Michael le Quern. Here executions of citizens 
 were held ; on its broad road the knights rode in tilt on great 
 days ; the stalls were crowded with those who came to look on 
 and to buy, the street was noisy with the voices of those who 
 displayed their wares and called upon the folk to buy —buy — 
 buy. You may hear the butchers in Clare Market or the costers 
 in Whitecross Street keeping up the custom to the present day. 
 The citizens walked and talked ; the Alderman went along in 
 state, accompanied by his officers ; they brought out prisoners 
 and put them into the pillory ; the church bells clashed, and 
 chimed, and tolled ; bright cloth of scarlet hung from the upper 
 windows if it was a feast day, or if the Mayor and Aldermen 
 had a riding ; the streets were bright with the colours of that 
 many-coloured time, when the men vied with the women in 
 bravery of attire, and when all classes spent upon raiment sums. 
 of money, in proportion to the rest of their expenditure, which 
 sober nineteenth-century folk can hardly believe. Chaucer is 
 full of the extravagance in dress. There is the young squire — 
 
 Embroidered was he as if it were a mead 
 All full of freshest flowers, white and red. 
 
 Or the carpenter's wife — 
 
 A seynt [girdle] she wered barred all of silk 
 In barm cloth eke as white as morne milk 
 Upon her lendes [loins] full of many a gore. 
 White was her smock and browded all before, 
 And eke behind on her coler about 
 Of cole black silk within and eke without. 
 
 Or the wife of Bath, with her scarlet stockings and her fine ker- 
 chiefs. And the knights decked their horses as gaily as them- 
 selves. And the City notables went clad in gowns of velvet or 
 silk lined with fur ; their hats were of velvet with gold lace ; 
 their doublets were of rich silk ; they carried thick gold chains 
 about their necks, and massive gold rings upon their fingers. 
 
 With all this outward show, this magnificence of raiment, 
 these evidences of wealth, would one mark the small tenements 
 which here and there, even in Chepe, stood between the churches 
 
PLANTAGENET 129 
 
 and the substantial merchants' houses ? We measure the splen- 
 dours of a city by its best, and not by its worst. 
 
 The magnates of London, from generation to generation, 
 showed far more wisdom, tenacity, and clearness of vision, than 
 can be found in the annals of Venice, Genoa, or any other 
 mediaeval city. Above all things, they maintained the city 
 liberties and the rights obtained from successive kings ; yet they 
 were always loyal so long as loyalty was possible ; when that 
 was no longer possible, as in the case of Richard II., they threw 
 the whole weight of their wealth and influence into the other 
 side. If fighting was wanted, they were ready to send out their 
 youths to fight, nay, to join the army themselves ; witness the 
 story of Sir John Philpot, Mayor in 1378. There was a certain 
 Scottish adventurer named Mercer. This man had gotten to- 
 gether a small fleet of ships, with which he harassed the North 
 Sea, and did great havoc among the English merchantmen. 
 Nor could any remonstrance addressed to the Crown effect any 
 redress. What was to be done ? Clearly, if trade was to be 
 carried on at all, this enemy must be put down. Therefore, 
 without much ado, the gallant Mayor gathered together at his 
 own expense a company of a thousand stout fellows, put them 
 on board, and sallied forth, himself their admiral, to fight this 
 piratical Scot. He found him, in fact, in Scarborough Bay with 
 his prizes. Sir John fell upon him at once, slew him and most 
 of his men, took all his ships, including the prizes, and returned 
 to the port of London with his spoils, including fifteen Spanish 
 ships which had joined the Scotchman. Next year the king 
 was in want of other help. The arms and armour of a thousand 
 men were in pawn. Sir John took them out. And because the 
 king wanted as many ships as he could get for his expedition 
 into France, Sir John gave him all his own, with Mercer's ships 
 and the Spanish prizes. 
 
 To treat adequately of the foreign trade of the city during 
 these centuries would require a volume. It has in fact received 
 more than a single volume.' The English merchantman sailed 
 everywhere. There were commercial treaties with Brittany, 
 Burgundy, Portugal, Castile, Genoa, and Venice. English mer- 
 chants who traded with Prussia were empowered by Henry IV. 
 to meet together and elect a governor for the adjustment of 
 
 ' Especially Cunningham's Groivth of English Imiustry and Commerce. 
 # K 
 
I30 LONDON 
 
 quarrels and the reparation of injuries. The same privilege was 
 extended to those who traded with Holland, Zealand, Brabant, 
 Flanders, Norway, Sweden, and Denmark. The Hanseatic 
 merchants enjoyed the privileges on the condition — not always 
 obtained — that English merchants should have the same rights 
 as the Hanseatic League. .It is easy to understand what com- 
 modities were imported from these countries. The trade was" 
 carried on under the conditions of continued fighting. First 
 the seas swarmed with Scotch ; French and- Flemish ships were 
 always on the look out for English merchant vessels — there was 
 no peace on the water ; then there were English pirates known 
 as rovers of the sea, who sailed about, landing on the coasts, 
 pillaging small towns, and robbing farms. Sandvvich was burned, 
 Southampton was burned. London protected herself with booms 
 and chains. The merchant vessels for safety sailed in fleets 
 Again, it was sometimes dangerous to be resident in a foreign 
 town in time of war; in 1429 Bergen was destroyed by the 
 Danes, and the English merchants were massacred ; about the 
 same time English seamen ravaged Ireland and murdered the 
 Royal Bailiff ; reprisals and quarrels and claims were constantly 
 going on. Yet trade increased and wealth with it. Other 
 foreign merchants settled in London besides the Hansards. 
 Florentines came to buy wool, and to lend money, and to sell 
 chains and rings and jewelled work. Genoese came to buy 
 alum and woad and to sell weapons. Venetians came to sell 
 spices, drugs, and fine manufactured things. 
 
 The grete galleys of Veness and Fflorence 
 
 Be wel ladene with thynges of complacence, 
 
 All spicerye and of groceres ware, 
 
 Wyth swete wynes alle manere of cheffare. 
 
 Apes and japes and marmettes taylede, 
 
 Trifles — trifles, that lytel have avaylede. 
 
 And thynges with wyche they fetely blere our eye, 
 
 With thynges not enduring that we bye. 
 
 Ffor moche of thys cheffare that is wastable, 
 
 Myght be forebore for diere and dissevable. 
 
 Toward the end of the fourteenth century began the first 
 grumblings of the great religious storm that was to burst upon 
 the world a hundred years later. The common sort of Lon- 
 doners, attached to their Church and to its services, were as 
 yet profoundly orthodox and unquestioning. But it is certain 
 
PLANTAGENRT 131 
 
 that in the year 1393 the Archbishop of York complained for- 
 mally to the king of the Mayor, Aldermen, and Sheriffs — 
 Whittington was then one of the Sheriffs — that they were male 
 creduli, that is, of little faith ; upholders of Lollards, detractors 
 of religious persons, detainers of tithes, and defrauders of 
 the poor. When persecutions, however, began in earnest not a 
 single citizen of position was charged with heresy. Probably 
 the Archbishop's charge was based upon some quarrel over 
 tithes and Church dues. At the same time no one who has 
 read Chaucer can fail to understand that men's minds were 
 made uneasy by the scandals of religion, the contrast between 
 profession and practice. It required no knowledge of theology 
 to remark that the monk who kept the best of horses in his 
 stable, and the best of hounds in his kennel, and rode to the 
 chase as gallantly attired as any young knight, was a strange 
 follower of the Benedictine rule. Nor was it necessary to be a 
 divine in order to compare the lives of the Franciscans with 
 their vows. Yet the authority of the Church seemed undi- 
 minished, while its wealth, its estates, its rank, and its privileges 
 gave it enormous power. It is not pretended that the merchants 
 of London were desirous of new doctrines, or of any tamper- 
 ing with the mass, or any lowering of sacerdotal pretensions. 
 Yet there can be no doubt that they desired reform in some 
 shape, and it seems as if they saw the best hope of reform in 
 raising the standard of education. Probably the old monastery 
 schools had fallen into decay. We find, for instance, a simul- 
 taneous movement in this direction long before Henry VI. be- 
 gan to found and to endow his schools. Whittington bequeathed 
 a sum of money to create a library for the Grey Friars ; his 
 close friend and one of his executors, John Carpenter, Rector of 
 St. Mary Magdalen, founded the City of London School, now 
 more flourishing and of greater use than ever ; another friend 
 of Whittington, Sir John Nicol, Master of the College of St. 
 Thomas Aeon, petitioned the Parliament for leave to establish 
 four schools ; Whittington's own Company, the Mercers', founded 
 a school — which still exists — upon his death. The merchants 
 rebuilt churches, bought advowsons and gave them to the cor- 
 poration, founded charities, and left doctrine to scholars. Yet 
 ^the century which contains such men as Wycliff, Chaucer, 
 Gower, Occleve, William of Wykeham, Fabian, and others, was 
 not altogether one of blind and unquestioning obedience. And 
 
 K 2 
 
132 LONDON 
 
 it is worthy of remark that the first Master of Whittington's 
 Hospital was that Reginald Pecock who afterward, as Bishop 
 of Chichester, was charged with Lollardism, and imprisoned for 
 life as a punishment. He was kept in a single closed chamber 
 in Thorncy Abbey, Isle of Ely. He was never allowed out of 
 this room ; no one was to speak with him except the man who 
 waited upon him ; he was to have neither paper, pen, ink, or 
 books, except a Bible, a mass book, a psalter, and a legendary. 
 
 Among the city worthies of that time may be introduced 
 Sir William Walworth, the slayer of W^at Tyler; Sir William 
 Sevenoke, the first known instance of the poor country lad of 
 humble birth working his way to the front ; he was also the first 
 to found and endow a grammar school for his native town ; Sir 
 Robert Chichele, whose brother Henry was Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury and founder of All Souls', Oxford ; this Robert, whose house 
 was on the site of Bakers' Hall in Harp Lane, provided by his 
 will that on his commemoration day two thousand four hundred 
 poor householders of the city should be regaled with a dinner 
 and have twopence in money ; Sir John Rainwell, who left 
 houses and lands to discharge the tax called the Fifteenth 
 in three parishes ; Sir John Wells, who brought water from 
 Tyburn ; and Sir William Estfield, who brought water from 
 Highbury. Other examples show that the time for endow- 
 ing monasteries had passed away. When William Elsing, 
 early in the fourteenth century, thought of doing something 
 with his money, he did not leave it to the Franciscans for 
 masses, but he endowed a hospital for a hundred blind men ; 
 and a few years later John Barnes gave the city a strong box 
 with three locks, containing a thousand marks, which were to 
 be lent to young men beginning business — an excellent gift. 
 When there was a great dearth of grain, it was the Lord Mayor 
 who fitted out ships at his own expense and brought corn from 
 Prussia, which lowered the price of flour by one half In the 
 acts of these grave magistrates one can read the deep love they 
 bore to the city, their earnest striving for the administration 
 with justice of just laws, for the maintenance of good work, for 
 the relief of the poor, for the provision of water, and for educa- 
 tion. Lollardism was nothing to them. What concerned them 
 in religion was the luxury, the sloth, and the scandalous lives of 
 the religious. Order they loved, because it is only by the main- 
 tenance of order that a city can flourish. Honesty in work of 
 
PLANTAGENET 
 
 133 
 
 all kinds they loved, so that while they hated the man who 
 pretended to do true work and proffered false work, it grieved 
 and shamed them to see one who professed the life of 
 purity wallow in wickedness, like a hog in mud. Obedience 
 they required, because without obedience there is no govern- 
 ment. As for the working man, the producer, the servant, 
 having any share in the profits or any claim to payment beyond 
 his wage, such a thought never entered the head of Whittington 
 
 ANCIENT COURT OF URIDEWELL PALACE 
 
 or Sevenoke. They were rulers ; they were masters ; they paid 
 the wage ; they laid their hands upon the profits. 
 
 Tradition — which is always on the side of the weak — main- 
 tains that the great merchants of the past, for the most part, 
 made their way upward from the poorest and most penniless 
 condition's. They came from the plough-tail or from the 
 mechanic's shop ; they entered the city paved with gold, friend- 
 less, with no more than twopence, if so much, in their pockets ; 
 'they received .scant favour and put up with rough fare. Then 
 tradition makes a jump, and shows them, on the next lifting of 
 the curtain, prosperous, rich, and in great honour. The typical 
 
13^ LONDON 
 
 London merchant is Dick Whittington, whose history was 
 blazoned in the cheap books for all to read. One is loth to 
 disturb venerable beliefs, but the facts of history are exactly the 
 opposite. The merchant adventurer, diligent in his business, 
 and therefore rewarded, as the wise man prophesied for him, 
 by standing before princes, though he began life as a prentice, 
 also began it as a gentleman. He belonged, at the outset, to a 
 good family, and had good friends both in the country and the 
 town. Piers Plowman never could and never did rise to great 
 eminence in the city. The exceptions, which are few indeed, 
 prove the rule. Against such a case as Sevenoke, the son of 
 poor parents, who rose to be Lord Mayor, we have a hundred 
 others in which the successful merchant starts with the advan- 
 tage of gentle birth. Take, for example, the case of Whittington 
 himself 
 
 He was the youngest son of a Gloucestershire country gen- 
 tleman. Sir William Whittington, a knight who was outlawed 
 for some offence. His estate was at a village called Pauntley. 
 In the church may still be seen the shield of Whittington im- 
 paling Fitzwarren — Richard's wife was Alice Fitzwarren. His 
 mother belonged to the well known Devonshire family of 
 Mansell, and was a cousin of the Fitzwarrens. The Whittingtons 
 were thus people of position and consideration, of knightly 
 rank, armigeri, living on their own estates, which were sufficient 
 but not large. 
 
 For a younger son in the fourteenth century the choice of a 
 career was limited. He might enter the service of a great lord 
 and follow his fortunes. In that turbulent time there was fight- 
 ing to be had at home as well as in PVance, and honour to be 
 acquired, with rank and lands, by those who were fortunate. 
 He might join the livery of the king. He might enter the 
 Church, but youths of gentle blood did not in the fourteenth 
 century flock readily to the Church. He might remain on the 
 family estate and become a bailiff He might go up to London 
 and become a lawyer. There were none of the modern profes- 
 sions ; no engineers, architects, bankers, journalists, painters, 
 novelists, or dramatists. But there was trade. 
 
 Young Dick Whittington therefore chose to follow trade ; 
 rather that line of life was chosen for him. He was sent to 
 London under charge of carriers and placed in the house of his 
 cousin. Sir John Fitzwarren, also a gentleman before he was 
 
PLANTAGENET 135 
 
 a merchant, as an apprentice. As he married his master's 
 daughter, it is reasonable to suppose that he inherited a busi- 
 ness which he subsequently improved and developed enor- 
 mously. If we suppose a single man to be the owner of the 
 Cunard Line of steamers, running the cargoes on his own ven- 
 ture and for his own profit, we may understand something of 
 Whittington's position in the city. The story of the cat is per- 
 sistently attached to his name ; it begins immediately after his 
 death ; it was figured on the buildings which his executors 
 erected ; it formed part of the decorations of the family man- 
 sion at Gloucester. It is therefore impossible to avoid the con- 
 clusion that he did himself associate the sale of a cat — then a 
 creature of some value and rarity — with the foundation of his 
 fortunes. Here, however, we have only to do with the fact that 
 Whittington was of gentle birth, and that he was apprenticed 
 to a man also of gentle birth. 
 
 Here, again, is another proof of my assertion that the 
 London merchant was generally a gentleman. That good old 
 antiquary, Stow, to whom we owe so much, not only gives an 
 account of all the monuments in the city churches, with the in- 
 scriptions and verses which were graven upon them, but he also 
 describes the shields of all those who were armigeri^ entitled 
 to carry arms. Remember, that a shield was not a thing which 
 could in those days be assumed at pleasure. The Heralds 
 made visitations of the counties, and examined into the preten- 
 sions of every man who bore a coat of arms. You were either 
 entitled to a coat of arms or you were not. To parade a shield 
 without a proper title was much as if a man should in these 
 days pretend to be an earl or a baronet. If one wants a shield 
 it is only necessary now to invent one ; or the Herald's College 
 will with great readiness connect a man with some knightly 
 family and so confer a title ; formerly the Herald could only 
 invent or find a coat of arms by order of the Sovereign, the 
 Fountain of Honour. By granting a shield, let us remember, 
 the king admitted another family into the first rank of gentle- 
 hood. For instance, when the news of Captain Cook's death 
 reached England, King George III. granted a coat of arms to 
 his family, who were thereby promoted to the first stage of 
 nobility. This, however^ seems to have been the last occasion 
 of such a grant. 
 
 What do we find, then ? This very remarkable fact The 
 
136 LONDON 
 
 churches are full of monuments to dead citizens who are 
 armigeri. Take two churches at hazard. The first is St. 
 Leonard's, Milk Street. Here were buried, among others, John 
 Johnson, citizen and butcher, died 1282, his coat of arms dis- 
 played upon his tomb ; also, with his family shield, Richard 
 Ruyener, citizen and fishmonger, died 1 361. The second 
 church is St. Peter's, Cornhill. Here the following monuments 
 have their shields ; that of Thomas Lorimer, citizen and 
 mercer ; of Thomas Born, citizen and draper ; of Henry Acle, 
 citizen and grocer ; of Henry Palmer, citizen and pannarius ; 
 of Henry Aubertner, citizen and tailor ; and of Timothy West- 
 row, citizen and grocer. In short, I do not say that the retail 
 traders were of knightly family, but that the great merchants, 
 the mercers, adventurers, and leaders of the Companies were 
 gentlemen by descent, and admitted to their close society only 
 their own friends, cousins, and sons. 
 
 The residence and yearly influx of the Barons and their 
 followers into London not only, as we have seen, kept the city 
 in touch with the country, and prevented it from becoming a 
 mere centre of trade, but it also kept the country in touch with 
 the city. The livery of the great Lords compared their own 
 lot, at best an honourable servitude, with that of the free and 
 independent merchants who had no over-lord but the King, 
 and were themselves as rich as any of the greatest Barons in 
 the country. They saw among them many from their own 
 country, lads whom they remembered in the hunting-field, or 
 playing in the garden before the timbered old house in the 
 country ; of gentle birth and breeding ; once, like themselves, 
 poor younger sons, now rich and of great respect. When they 
 went home they talked of this and fired the blood of the boys, 
 so that while some staid at home and some put on the livery of 
 a Baron, others went up to London and served their time. So 
 that, when we assign a city origin to the families of Coventry, 
 Leigh, Ducie, Pole, Bouverie, Boleyn, Legge, Capel, Osborne, 
 Craven, and Ward, it would be well to inquire, if possible, to 
 what stock belonged the original citizen, the founder of each. 
 Trade, in the fourteenth century, and long afterward, did not 
 degrade a gentleman. That idea was of an earlier and of a 
 later date. It became a law during the last century when the 
 county families began to grow rich and the value of land in- 
 creased. It is fast disappearing again, and the city is once 
 
PLANTAGENET 137 
 
 more receiving the sons of noble and gentle. The change 
 should be welcomed as helping to destroy the German notions 
 of caste and class and the hereditary superiority of the en- 
 nobled House. 
 
 As for the political power of London under the Planta- 
 genets it will be sufficient to refer to Froissart. ' The English/ 
 says the chronicler, unkindly, * are the worst people in the 
 world, the most obstinate, and the most presumptuous, and of 
 all England the Londoners are the leaders ; for, to say the 
 truth, they are very powerful in men and in wealth. In the 
 city and neighbourhood there are twenty-five thousand men, 
 completely armed from head to foot, and full thirty thousand 
 archers. This is a great force, and they are bold and coura- 
 geous, and the more blood is spilled the greater is their 
 courage.' The deposition of King Edward II. and that of 
 King Richard II. illustrate at once the 'presumption and 
 obstinacy ' and the power of the citizens. Later on, the depo- 
 sitions of Charles I. and of James II. were also largely assisted 
 by these presumptuous citizens. 
 
 The first case, that of Edward II., is thus summed up by 
 Froissart : — 
 
 When the Londoners perceived King Edward so besotted with the 
 Despencers, they provided a remedy, by sending secretly to Queen 
 Isabella information, that if she would collect a body of 300 armed 
 men, and land with them in England, she would find the citizens of 
 London and the majority of the nobles and commonalty ready to join 
 her and place her on the throne. The Queen found a friend in Sir 
 John of Hainault, Lord of Beaumont and Chimay, and brother to 
 Count William of Hainault, who undertook, through affection and pity, 
 to carry her and her son back to England. He exerted himself so 
 much in her service with knights and squires, that he collected a body 
 of four hundred and landed them in England, to the great comfort of 
 the Londoners. The citizens joined them, for, without their assistance, 
 they would never have accomplished the enterprise. King Edward 
 was made prisoner at Bristol, and carried to Berkeley Castle, where he 
 died. His advisers were all put to death with much cruelty, and the 
 same day King Edward III. was crowned King of England in the 
 Palace of Westminster. 
 
 When, in the case of Richard II., the time of expostulation 
 had passed, and that for armed resistance or passive submission 
 had arrived, the Londoners remembered their action in the 
 
138 LONDON 
 
 reign of Edward II., and perceived that if they did not move 
 they u^ould be all ruined and destroyed. They therefore re- 
 solved upon bringing over from France, Henry, Earl of Derby, 
 and entreated the Archbishop of Canterbury to go over secretly 
 and invite him, promising the whole strength of London for his 
 service. As we know, Henry accepted and came over. On his 
 landing he sent a special messenger to ride post haste to London 
 with the news. The journey was performed in less than twenty- 
 four hours. The Lord Mayor sent the news about in all direc- 
 tions, and the Londoners prepared to give their future king a 
 right joyous welcome. They poured out along the roads to 
 meet him, and all men, women, and children clad in their best 
 clothes. * The Mayor of London rode by the side of the 
 Earl and said, " See, my Lord, how^ much the people are re- 
 joiced at your arrival." As the Earl advanced he bowed his 
 head to the right and left, and noticed all comers with kindness. 
 . . . The whole town was so rejoiced at the Earl's return that 
 every shop was shut and no more work done than if it had been 
 Easter day.' 
 
 The army which Henry led to the west was an army ot 
 Londoners, twelve thousand strong. It was to the Tower ot 
 London that the fallen King was brought ; and it was in the 
 Guildhall that the articles drawn up against the King were 
 publicly read ; and it was in Cheapside that the four knights, 
 Richard's principal advisers, were beheaded. At the Corona- 
 tion feast, the King sat at the first table, having with him the 
 two archbishops and seventeen bishops. At the second table 
 sat the five great peers of England. At the third were the 
 principal citizens of London, below them sat the knights. The 
 place assigned to the city is significant. But London had not 
 yet done enough for Henry of Lancaster. The Earls of Hunt- 
 ingdon and Salisbury attempted a rebellion against him. Said 
 the Mayor, ' Sire, we have made you king, and king you shall 
 be.' And King he remained. 
 
 It was in this fourteenth century that the city experienced 
 the most important change in the whole history of her constitu • 
 tion, more important than the substitution of the Mayor and 
 Aldermen for the portreeve and sheriff, though that was nothing- 
 less than the passage from the feudal county to the civic com- 
 munity. The new thing was the formation of the city com- 
 panies, which incorporated each trade formally and gave the 
 
PLANTAGENET 139 
 
 fullest powers to the governing body over wages, hours of 
 labour, output, and everything which concerned the welfare of 
 each craft. 
 
 There had been many attempts made at combination. Men 
 at all times have been sensible of the advantages of combining ; 
 at all times and in every trade there is the same difficulty, that 
 of persuading everybody to forego an apparent present advan- 
 tage for a certain benefit in the future ; there are always black- 
 legs, yet the cause of combination advances. 
 
 The history of the city companies is that of combination so 
 successfully carried out that it became part of the constitution 
 and government of the city ; but, which was not foreseen at the 
 outset, combination in the interest of the masters, not of the 
 men. 
 
 The trades had long formed associations which they called 
 guilds. These, for some appearance of independence, began to 
 arouse suspicion. Kings have never regarded any combination 
 of their subjects with approbation. The guilds were ostensibly 
 religious ; they had each a patron saint — St. Martin, for instance, 
 protected the saddlers ; St. Anthony, the grocers — and they held 
 an annual festival on their saint's day. But they must be 
 licensed ; eighteen such guilds were fined for establishing them- 
 selves without a license. Those which were licensed paid for 
 the privilege. The most important of them was the Guild of 
 Weavers, which was authorised by Henry II. to regulate the 
 trades of cloth-workers, drapers, tailors, and all the various crafts 
 and ' mysteries ' that belong to clothes. This guild became so 
 powerful that it threatened to rival in authority the governing 
 body. It was, therefore, suppressed by King John, the different 
 trades afterward combining separately to form their own com- 
 panies. 
 
 We are not waiting a history of London, otherwise the rise 
 and growth of the city companies would form a most interesting 
 chapter. It has been done in a brief and convenient form by 
 Loftie, in his little book on London (* Historic Towns Series'). 
 Very curious and suggestive reading it is. At the period with 
 which we are now concerned, the end of the fourteenth century, 
 the companies were rapidly forming and presenting regulations 
 for the approval and lic^se of the Mayor and Aldermen. By 
 the year 1363 there were thirty- two companies already formed 
 whose laws and regulations had received the approbation of the 
 
140 LONDON 
 
 King. Let us take those of the Company of Glovers. They 
 are briefly as follows : 
 
 (i) None but a freeman of the city shall make or sell 
 gloves. 
 
 (2) No glover shall be admitted to the freedom of the city 
 unless with the assent of the Wardens of the trade. 
 
 (3) No one shall entice away the servant of another. 
 
 (4) If a servant in the trade shall make away with his 
 master's chattels to the value of twelvepence, the Wardens shall 
 make good the loss ; and if the servant refuse to be adjudged 
 upon by the Wardens, he shall be taken before the Mayor and 
 Aldermen. 
 
 (5) No one shall sell his goods by candle-light. 
 
 (6) Any false work found shall be taken before the Mayor 
 and Aldermen by the Wardens. 
 
 (7) All things touching the trade within the city between 
 those who are not freemen shall be forfeited. 
 
 (8) Journeymen shall be paid their present rate of wages. 
 
 (9) Persons who entice away journeymen glovers to make 
 gloves in their own houses shall be brought before the Mayor 
 and Aldermen. 
 
 (10) Any one of the trade who refuses to obey these regula- 
 tions shall be brought before the Mayor and Aldermen. 
 
 Observe, upon these laws, first that the fourth simply 
 transfers the master's right to chastise his servant to the 
 governing body of the company. This seems to put the crafts- 
 men in a better position. Here, apparently, is combination 
 carried to the fullest. All the glovers in the city unite ; no one 
 shall make or sell gloves except their own members ; the com- 
 pany shall order the rate of wages and the admission of appren- 
 tices ; no glover shall work for private persons, or for any one, 
 except by order of the company. Here is absolute protection of 
 trade and absolute command of trade. Unfortunately, the 
 Wardens and court were not the craftsmen, but the masters. 
 Therefore the regulations of trade were very quickly found to 
 serve the enrichment of the masters and the repression of the 
 craftsmen. And if the latter formed * covins ' or conspiracies for 
 the improvement of wages, they very soon found out that such 
 associations were put down with the firmest hand. To be 
 brought before the Mayor and Aldermen meant, unless sub- 
 mission was made and accepted, expulsion from the city. So 
 
PLANTAGENET 141 
 
 long as the conditions of the time allowed, the companies created 
 a Paradise for the master. The workman was suppressed ; he 
 could not combine ; he could not live except on the terms im- 
 posed by his company : if he rebelled he was thrust out of the 
 city gates. The jurisdiction of the city, however, ceased at the 
 walls ; when a greater London began to grow outside Cripple- 
 gate, Bishopsgatc, and Aldgate, and on the reclaimed marshes of 
 Westminster and along the river bank, craftsmen not of any 
 company could settle down and work as they pleased. But they 
 had to find a market, which might be impossible except within 
 the city, where they were not admitted. Therefore the com- 
 panies, as active guardians and jealous promoters of their trades, 
 fulfilled their original purposes a long while, and enabled many 
 generations of masters to grow rich upon the work of their 
 servants. 
 
 Every company was governed by its Wardens. The Warden 
 had great powers ; he proved the quality, weight, or length of 
 the goods exposed for sale ; the members were bound to obey 
 the Warden ; to prevent bad blood, every man called upon to 
 serve his time as Warden had to undertake the office. The 
 Warden also looked after the poor of the craft, assisted the old 
 and infirm, the widows and the orphans. He had also to watch 
 over the fraternity, to take care that there should be no under- 
 selling, no infringement of the rate of wage, no over-reaching of 
 one by the other. He was, in short, to maintain the common 
 interest of the trade. It was a despotism, but, on the whole, a 
 benevolent despotism. The Englishman was not yet ready for 
 popular rule ; doubtless the jealousies of the sovereign were 
 allayed by the discovery that the association of a trade was a 
 potent engine for the maintenance of order and the repression of 
 the turbulent craftsmen. How turbulent they could be was proved 
 by the troubles which arose in the reign of Henry HI. 
 
 The great companies were always separate and distinct from 
 the smaller companies. For a long time the Mayor was exclu- 
 sively elected from the former. Even at the present day, unless 
 the Mayor belongs to one of the great companies, he labours 
 under certain disadvantages. He cannot, for instance, become 
 President of the Irish Society. 
 
 By the end of the fourteenth century, then— to sum up — the 
 government of London was practically complete and almost in 
 its present form. The Mayor, become an officer of the highest 
 
142 LONDON 
 
 importance, was elected every year ; the SherifYs every year ; 
 the Aldermen and the Common Councilmen were elected by 
 wards. The Mayor was chosen from the great companies, which 
 comprised all the merchant venturers, importers, exporters, men 
 who had correspondence over the seas, masters, and employers. 
 Every craft had its own regulations ; no one could trade in the 
 city who did not belong to a company ; no one could work in 
 the city, or even make anything to be sold, who did not belong 
 to a company. Wages were ordered by the companies ; working 
 men had no appeal from the ruling of the Warden. From time 
 to time there were attempts made by the craftsmen to make 
 combinations for themselves. These attempts were sternly and 
 swiftly put down. No trades-unions were suffered to be formed ; 
 nay, even within the memory of living man trades-unions were 
 treated as illegal associations. The craftsman, as a political 
 factor, disappears from history with the creation of the com- 
 panies. In earlier times we hear his voice in the folkmote ; we 
 see him tossing his cap and shouting for William Longbeard. 
 But when Whittington sits on the Lord Mayor's chair he is 
 silenced. And he remains silent until, by a renewal of those 
 covins and conspiracies which Whittington put down so sternly, 
 he has become a greater power in the land than ever he was 
 before. Even yet, however, and with all the lessons that he 
 has learned, his power of combination is imperfect, his aims 
 are narrow, and his grasp of his own power is feeble and 
 restricted. 
 
 For my own part, I confess that this repression, this silencing 
 of the craftsman in the fourteenth century, seems to me to have 
 been necessary for the growth and prosperity of the city. For 
 the craftsman was then incredibly ignorant ; he knew nothing 
 except his own craft ; as for his country, the conditions of the 
 time, the outer world, he knew nothing at all ; he might talk to 
 the sailors who lay about the quays between voyages, but they 
 could tell him nothing that would help him in his trade ; he 
 could not read, he could not inquire, because he knew not what 
 question to ask or what information he wanted ; he had no 
 principles ; he was naturally ready, for his own present advan- 
 tages, to sacrifice the whole world ; he believed all he was told. 
 Had the London working man acquired such a share in the 
 government of his city as he now has in the government of his 
 country, the result would have been a battlefield of discordant 
 
PLANTAGEMET 143 
 
 and ever varying factions, ruled and led each in turn by a short- 
 lived demagogue. 
 
 It was, in short, a most happy circumstance for London that 
 the government of the city fell into the hands of an oligarchy, 
 and still more happy that the oligarchs themselves were under 
 the rule of a jealous and a watchful sovereign. 
 
 So far it was well. It would have been better had the 
 governing body recognised the law that they must be always en- 
 larging their borders. Then they would have begun in earnest 
 the education of the people. We, who have only taken this 
 work in hand for twenty years, may not throw stones. The 
 voice of the educated craftsman should have been heard long 
 ago. Then we might have been spared many oppressions, many 
 foolish wars, many cruelties. But from the fourteenth to the 
 nineteenth century the craftsman is silent. Nay, in every 
 generation he grows more silent, less able to say what he wants ; 
 more inarticulate, more angry and discontented, and more power- 
 less to make his wants heard until he reaches the lowest depth 
 ever arrived at by Englishmen : and that, I think, was about a 
 hundred j^ears ago. 
 
144 
 
 LONDON 
 
 PLANTAGENET- continued 
 
 III. -THE PEOPLE 
 
 Through broad Chepeside rode the 
 great lord — haply the king himself — 
 followed by his regiment of knights, 
 gentlemen, and men-at-arms, all wearing 
 his livery. The Abbot, with his following, 
 passed along on his way to Westminster 
 in stately procession. The Alderman, in 
 fur gown and gold chain, with his officers, 
 walked through the market inspecting 
 weights and measures and the goods ex- 
 posed for sale. Priests and friars crowded 
 the narrow ways. To north and south, 
 in sheds which served for shops, the pren- 
 '.j tices stood bawling their wares. This 
 was the outward and visible side of the 
 city. There was another side — the city 
 of the London craftsman, 
 the craftsman ? Whence did he come .-* 
 London has always opened her hospitable arms to foreigners. 
 They still come to the city and settle, enjoying its freedom, and 
 in the next generation are pure English. In the days of Edward 
 the Confessor the men of Rouen and of Flanders became citizens 
 with rights equal to the English. Later on, the names of the 
 people show their origin and the places whence they or their 
 forefathers had come. Then William Waleys is William the 
 Welchman ; Walter Norris is Walter of Norway ; John Francis 
 is John the Frenchman ; Henry Upton is Henry of that town ; 
 William Sevenoke, Lord Mayor of London, took his name from 
 the village of Sevenoaks in Kent, where he was born. The first 
 surnames were bestowed not only with reference to the place of 
 birth, but partly to trades, partly to the place of residence, partly 
 
 OLD CHARING CROSS 
 
 Who was he- 
 
PLANTAGENET 145 
 
 to personal defects or peculiarities. But it is obvious from the 
 earliest names on record how readily London received strangers 
 from any quarter of Western Europe, Norway, Denmark, Flanders, 
 Lorraine, Picardy, Normandy, Guyenne, Spain, Provence, and 
 Italy. It is noteworthy in studying the names, first, that, as 
 was to be expected, there is not in the fourteenth century a 
 single trace of British or Roman British name, either Christian 
 or surname, just as there was not in the Saxon occupation a 
 single trace of Roman customs or institutions ; next, that the 
 Saxon names have all vanished. There are no longer any 
 Wilfreds, ^Ifgars, Eadberhts, Sigeberts, Harolds, or Eadgars 
 
 ' among the Christian names. They have given place to the 
 Norman names of John, Henry, William, and the like. The 
 London craftsman was therefore a compound of many races. 
 The dominant strain was Saxon —East Saxon ; then came 
 Norman, then Fleming, and then a slight infusion of every 
 nation of Western Europe. 
 
 In the narrow lanes leading north and south of the two great 
 streets of Thames and Chepe the craftsmen of London lived in 
 their tenements, each consisting of a room below and a room 
 above. Some of them followed their trade at home, some worked 
 in shops. There were those who sold and those who made. Of 
 the former, the mercers and haberdashers kept their shops in 
 West Chepe ; the goldsmiths in Guthrun's Lane and Old 
 Change ; the pepperers and grocers in Soper's Lane ; the drapers 
 in Lombard Street and Cornhill ; the skinners in St. Mary Axe ; 
 the fishmongers in Thames Street ; the ironmongers in Iron- 
 mongers' Lane and Old Jewry ; the vintners in the Vintry ; the 
 butchers in East Chepe, St. Nicolas Shambles, and the Stocks 
 Market ; the hosiers in Hosiers' Lane ; the shoemakers and 
 curriers in Cordwainer Street ; the paternoster -sellers in Pater- 
 noster Row ; patten -sellers by St. Margaret Pattens ; and so 
 forth. 
 
 It is easy, with the help of Stow, and with the names of the 
 streets before one, to map out the chief market-places and the 
 shops. It is not so easy to lay down the places where those 
 dwelt who carried on handicrafts. Stow indicates here and 
 there a few facts. The Founders of candlesticks, chafing-dishes, 
 
 ^nd spice mortars carried ^n their work in Lothbury ; the coal- 
 men and woodmongers were found about Billingsgate stairs ; 
 since the Flemish weavers met in the church -yard of Lawrence 
 L 
 
[46 LONDON 
 
 Pountney, they lived presumably in that parish. For the same 
 reason the Brabant weavers probably lived in St. Mary Somerset 
 parish. The furriers worked in Walbrook ; the curriers opposite 
 London Wall ; upholsterers or undertakers on Cornhill ; cutlers 
 worked in Pope's Head Alley ; basket- makers, wire-drawers, and 
 ' other foreigners ' in Blond Chapel, or Blanch Appletone Lane. 
 In Mincing Lane dwelt the men of Genoa and other parts who 
 brought wine to the port of London in their galleys. The 
 turners of beads for prayers lived in Paternoster Row ; the 
 bowyers in Bowyer Row ; other crafts there are which may be 
 assigned to their original streets. Sometimes, but not always, 
 the site of a company's hall marks the quarter chiefly inhabited 
 by that trade. Certainly the vintners belonged to the Vintry, 
 where is now their hall, and the weavers to Chepe, where they 
 still have their hall. When, however, the management of a 
 trade or craft passed into the hands of a company, there was no 
 longer any reason, except where men had to work together, 
 why they should live together. Since there could be no com- 
 bined action by the men, but, on the contrary, blind obedience 
 to the Warden, they might as well live in whatever part of the 
 city should be the most convenient. P'rom the absence of great 
 houses, whether of nobles or princes, in the north of the city, 
 one is inclined to believe that great numbers of craftsmen lived 
 in that part, namely, between what is now called Gresham 
 Street and London Wall. 
 
 The trades carried on within the walls covered very nearly 
 the whole field of manufacture. A mediaeval city made every- 
 thing that it wanted — wine, spices, silks, velvets, precious stones, 
 and a few other things excepted, which were brought to the 
 port from abroad ; but the city could get on very well without 
 those things. Within the walls they made everything. It is 
 not until one reads the- long lists of trades collected together 
 by Riley that one understands how many things were wanted, 
 and how trades were subdivided. Clothing in its various 
 branches gave work to the wympler, who made wimples or 
 neckerchiefs for women ; the retunder, or shearman of cloth ; 
 the batour, or worker of cloth ; the caplctmonger ; the callcre, 
 who made cauls or coifs for the head ; the quiltcr ; the pinner ; 
 the chaloner, who made chalons or coverlets ; the bureller, who 
 worked in burcl, a coarse cloth ; the tailor ; the linen armourer ; 
 the chaucer, or shoemaker ; the plumer, or feather-worker ; the 
 
PLANTAGENET 147 
 
 pelliper, pellerccr, or furrier ; the white tawyer, who made white 
 leather ; and many others. Arms and armour wanted the 
 bowyer ; the kissere, who made armour for the thighs ; the 
 bokelsmyth, who made bucklers ; the bracere, who made armour 
 for arms ; the gorgiarius, who made gorgets ; the tabourer, who 
 made drums ; the heaulmere, who made helmets ; the makers 
 of haketons, pikes, swords, spears, and bolts for crossbows. 
 Trades were thus already divided ; we see one man making one 
 thing and nothing else all his life. The equyler made por- 
 ringers, the brochere made spits, the haltier made halters, the 
 corder made ropes, the sacker made sacks, the melmallere made 
 hammers, and so on. 
 
 The old city grows gradually clearer to the vision when we 
 think of all these trades carried on within the walls. There 
 were mills to grind the corn ; breweries for making the beer — 
 one remains in the City still ; the linen was spun within the 
 walls, and the cloth made and dressed ; the brass pots, tin pots, 
 iron utensils, and wooden platters and basins were all made in 
 the city ; the armour, with its various pieces, was hammered 
 out and fashioned in the streets ; all kinds of clothes, from the 
 leathern jerkin of the poorest to the embroidered robes of a 
 princess, were made here ; nothing that was wanted for house- 
 hold use in the country but was made in London town. Some 
 of those trades were offensive to their neighbours. Under 
 Edward I., for instance, the melters of tallow and lard were 
 made to leave Chepe, and to find a more convenient place at a 
 distance from that fashionable street. The names of Stinking 
 Lane, Scalding Lane, and Sheer Hog sufficiently indicate the 
 pleasing effect of the things done in them upon the neighbours. 
 The modern City of London — the City proper — is a place where 
 they make nothing, but sell everything. It is now quite a quiet 
 city ; the old rumbling of broad-wheeled wagons over a stone- 
 laid roadway has given way to the roll of the narrow wheel 
 over the smooth asphalt ;" the craftsmen have left the city. 
 But in the days of Whittington there was no noisier city in the 
 whole world ; the roar and the racket of it could be heard afar 
 off — even at the rising of the Surrey Hills or the slope of High- 
 gate, or the top of Parliament Hill. Every man in the city was 
 at work except the laz3'#nen-at-arms of my lord's following in 
 the great house that was like a barrack. They lay about wait- 
 ing for the order to mount and ride off to the border, or the 
 
 ♦ L 2 
 
148 LONDON 
 
 Welsh march, or to fight the French. But roundabout these 
 barracks the busy craftsmen worked all day long. From every 
 lane rang out without ceasing the tuneful note of the hammer 
 and the anvil ; the carpenters, not without noise, drove in their 
 nails, and the coopers hooped their casks ; the blacksmith's fire 
 roared ; the harsh grating of the founders set the teeth on edge 
 of those who passed that way ; along the river-bank, from the 
 Tower to Paul's stairs, those who loaded and those who unloaded, 
 those who carried the bales to the warehouses, those who hoisted 
 them up, the ships which came to port and the ships which 
 sailed away, did all with fierce talking, shouting, quarrelling, 
 and racket. Such work must needs be carried on with noise. 
 The pack-horses plodded along the streets, coming into the city 
 and going out. Wagons with broad wheels rumbled and 
 groaned along ; the prentices bawled from the shops ; the fight- 
 ing-men marched along to sound of trumpet ; the church bells 
 and the monastery bells rang out all day long, and all night 
 too. And at the doors of the houses or the open windows, 
 where there was no glass, but a hanging shutter, sat or stood 
 the women, preparing the food, washing, mending, sewing, or 
 spinning, their children playing in the street before them. 
 There are many towns of France, especially Southern France, 
 which recall the mediaeval city. Here the women live and do 
 their work in the doorways ; the men work at the open windows ; 
 and all day there is wafted along the streets and up to the skies 
 the fragrance of soup and onions, roasted meats and baked 
 confections, with the smell of every trade which the people 
 carry on. 
 
 Everything was made within the walls of the city. When 
 one thinks upon the melting of tallow, the boiling of soap, the 
 crushing of bones, the extracting of glue, the treatment of 
 feathers and cloth and leather, the making and grinding of 
 knives and all other sharp weapons, the crowding of the slaughter- 
 houses, the decaying of fruit and vegetables, the roasting of meat 
 at cooks' shops, the baking of bread, the brewing of beer, the 
 making of vinegar, and all the thousand and one things which 
 go to make up the life of a town, the most offensive of which 
 are now carried on without the town ; when one considers, 
 further, the gutter, which played so great a part in every mediae- 
 val city ; the gutter stream, which was almost Sabbatical, be- 
 cause it ceased to run when people ceased to work ; the brook 
 
PLANTAGENET 149 
 
 of the middle of the street, flowing with suds, the water used 
 for domestic and for trade purposes, and with everything thai 
 would float or flow ; when, again, one thinks of the rags and 
 bones, the broken bits and remnants and fragments, the cabbage 
 stalks and pea-pods and onion peelings which were thrown into 
 the street, though against the law, and of the lay stalls, where 
 filth and refuse of every kind were thrown to wait the coming 
 of carts, even more uncertain than those of a modern vestry — 
 when, I say, one thinks of all these things, and of the small 
 boundaries of the city and its crowded people and of its 
 narrow streets, one understands how there hung over the 
 city day and night, never quite blown away even by the most 
 terrible storm that ever swept o'er pale Britannia, a richly 
 confected cloud of thick and heavy smell which the people had 
 to breathe. 
 
 They liked it ; without it, the true Londoner languished. The 
 mediaeval smell, the smell of great towns, has left London, but 
 in old towns of the Continent, as in the old streets of Brussels, 
 it meets and greets us to the present day. Breathing this air 
 with difficulty, and perhaps with nausea, you may say, ' Such 
 and such was the air in which the citizens of London delighted 
 when Edward III. was King.' 
 
 The craftsman in those days had to do good work, or he 
 would hear of it. He had to obey his company, or he would 
 hear of it ; and he had to take, with outward show of content- 
 ment, the wages that were assigned to him, or he would hear of 
 it. He might be imprisoned, or put in pillory. We shall see a 
 few cases of his punishment presently. As a final punishment 
 he might be thrust outside the gates of the city, and told to go 
 away and to return no more. 
 
 Then, one fears, there would be nothing left for the crafts- 
 man but to turn ribaud, if he was clever enough to learn the 
 arts of ribauderie ; or to sink into the lowest depth and become 
 a villein, bound to the soil. 
 
 If it was a city of hard work, it was also a city of play in 
 
 plenty. London citizens, old and young, have always delighted 
 
 beyond measure in games, shows, sports, and amusements of 
 
 every kind. There were many holidays, and Sunday was not a 
 
 ^ay of gloom. ^ 
 
 The calendar of sport begins with the first day of the year, 
 and ends with the last day. 
 
I50 LONDON 
 
 The year began with New- Year's gifts : 
 
 These giftes the husband gives his wife and father eke the child, 
 And master on his men bestows the Hke with favour milde, 
 And good beginning of the year they wish and wish again, 
 According to the ancient guise of heathen people vaine. 
 These eight days no man doth require his debtes of any man ; 
 Their tables do they furnish forth with all the meat they can. 
 
 There were skating and sliding upon the ice in Moorfields, 
 where the shallow ponds froze easily ; or they played at quarter- 
 staff, at hocking, at single-stick, at football, and at bucklers. In 
 the evening they played at cards and ' tables ' and dice. 
 
 Now men and maids do merry make 
 At stool- ball and at barley-break. 
 
 On Shrove Tuesday they had cock-fighting, a sport con- 
 tinued with unabated popularity until within the memory of 
 man — nay, it is rumoured that he w^ho knows where to look for 
 it may still enjoy that humanising spectacle. Every Friday in 
 Lent the young men went forth to Smithfield and held mock 
 fights, but the custom was in time discontinued ; at Easter they 
 had boat tournaments. At this holy season also they had boar 
 fights, and the baiting of bulls and bears. They had stage 
 plays — the parish clerk in Chaucer 'played Herod on a scaffold 
 high.' In the year 1391 the parish clerks had a play at Skin- 
 ners' Well, Smithfield, which lasted for three days. In 1409 
 they represented the creation of the world, and it lasted eight 
 days. 
 
 Then there were the pageants, shows, and ridings in the city. 
 Here are two, out of several described by Stow : — 
 
 Of triumphant shows made by the citizens of London, ye may read, 
 in the year 1236, the 20th of Henry TIL, Andrew Bockwell then being 
 mayor, how Eleanor, daughter to Reymond, Earl of Provence, riding 
 through the city towards Westminster, there to be crowned Queen of 
 England, the city was adorned with silks, and in the night with lamps, 
 cressets, and other lights without number, besides many pageants and 
 strange devices there presented ; the citizens also rode to meet the king 
 and queen, clothed in long garments embroidered about with gold, and 
 jilks of divers colours, their horses gallantly trapped to the number of 
 three hundred and sixty, every man bearing a cup of gold or silver in 
 his hand, and the king's trumpeters sounding before them. These 
 citizens did minister wine as bottlers, which is their service, at their 
 coronation. More, in the year 1293, for victory obtained by Edward I. 
 
PLANTAGENET 151 
 
 against the Scots, every citizen, according to their several trade, made 
 their several show, but especially the fishmongers, which in a solemn 
 procession passed through the city, having, amongst other pageants and 
 shows, four sturgeons gilt, carried on four horses ; then four salmons of 
 silver on four horses ; and after them sixty-and-forty armed knights 
 riding on horses, made like luces of the sea ; and then one representing 
 St. Magnus, because it was upon St. Magnus' day, with a thousand 
 horsemen, &c. 
 
 One other show, in the year 1377, was made by the citizens for dis- 
 port of the young prince, Richard, son to the Black Prince, in the feast 
 of Christmas, in this manner : — On the Sunday before Candlemas, in 
 the night, one hundred and thirty citizens, disguised, and well horsed, 
 in a mummery, with sound of trumpets, sackbuts, cornets, shalmes, and 
 other minstrels, and innumerable torchhghts of wax, rode from Newgate, 
 through Cheap, over the bridge, through Southwark, and so to Ken- 
 nington beside Lambhith, where the young prince remained with his 
 mother and the Duke of Lancaster his uncle, the earls of Cambridge, 
 Hertford, Warwick, and Suffolk, with divers other lords. In the first 
 rank did ride forty eight in the likeness and habit of esquires, two and 
 two together, clothed in red coats and gowns of say or sandal, with 
 comely visors on their faces ; after them came riding forty-eight knights 
 in the same livery of colour and stuff ; then followed one richly arrayed 
 like an emperor ; and after him some distance, one stately attired like a 
 pope, whom followed twenty-four cardinals, and after them eight or ten 
 with black visors, not amiable, as if they had been legates from some 
 foreign princes. These maskers, after they had entered Kennington, 
 alighted from their horses, and entered the hall on foot ; which done, 
 the prince, his mother, and the lords, came out of the chamber into 
 the hall, whom the said mummers did salute, showing by a pair of dice 
 upon the table their desire to play with the prince, which they so 
 handled that the prince did always win when he cast them. Then the 
 mummers set to the prince three jewels, one after another, which were 
 a bowl of gold, a cup of gold, and a ring of gold, which the prince won 
 at three casts. Then they set to the prince's mother, the duke, the 
 earls, and other lords, to everyone a ring of gold, which they did also 
 win. After which they were feasted, and the music sounded, the prince 
 and the lords danced on the one part with the mummers, which did 
 also dance ; which jollity being ended, they were again made to drink, 
 and then departed in order as they came. 
 
 Whenever an excuse could be found, the Mayor, Sheriffs, and 
 Aldermen held a solemn riding in all their bravery. Not even 
 in Ghent or Antwerp wgre there such splending ridings and so 
 many of them. ' Search all chronicles,' says an old v^^riter, ' all 
 histories and records, in what language or letter soever, let the 
 
152 LONDON 
 
 inquisitive man waste the deere treasures of his time and eye- 
 sight, he shall conclude his life only in the certainty that there 
 is no subject received into the place of his government with the 
 like style and magnificence as is the Lord Mayor of the city of 
 London.' We shall see later on what kind of show would be 
 held in the time of Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 As for pageants, they were so splendid that he was unhappy, 
 indeed, who could not remember one. But there were few so 
 unfortunate. Whenever the King paid a visit to the city, on his 
 accession, on his marriage, on the birth of a prince, the city held 
 a pageant. When you read the account of the pageant when 
 Henry V. and the city returned thanks for the victory of Agin- 
 court, remember to cover in imagination the houses with scarlet 
 cloth, to dress the people with such bravery of attire and such 
 colours as you can imagine, to let music play at every corner, to 
 let the horses be apparelled as bravely as their riders, to let the 
 bells be pealing and clashing, to fill up the narrative with the 
 things which the historian neglects, and then own that in the 
 matter of pageants we are poor indeed compared with our fore- 
 fathers five hundred years ago. 
 
 On the King's return after the glorious field of Agincourt, the Mayor 
 of London and the Aldermen, apparelled in orient grained scarlet, and 
 four hundred commoners clad in beautiful murrey, well mounted and 
 trimly horsed, with rich collars and great chains, met the King at Black- 
 heath ; and the clergy of London in solemn procession with rich crosses, 
 sumptuous copes, and massy censers, received him at St. Thomas ot 
 Waterings. The King, like a grave and sober personage, and as one 
 who remembered from Whom all victories are sent, seemed little to 
 regard the vain pomp and shows, insomuch that he would not suffer his 
 helmet to be carried with him, whereby the blows and dints upon it 
 might have been seen by the people, nor would he suffer any ditties to 
 be made and sung by minstrels of his glorious victory, because he 
 would the praise and thanks should be altogether given to God. 
 
 At the entrance of London Bridge, on the top o^ the tower, stood a 
 gigantic figure, bearing in his right hand an axe, and in his left the keys 
 of the city hanging to a staff, as if he had been the porter. By his side 
 stood a female of scarcely less stature, intended for his wife. Around 
 them were a band of trumpets and other wind instruments. The 
 towers were adorned with banners of the royal arms, and in the front 
 of them was inscribed civitas regis justicie (the City of the King of 
 Righteousness). 
 
 At the drawbridge on each side was erected a lofty column, like a 
 
PLANTAGENET 153 
 
 little tower, built of wood, and covered with linen ; one painted like 
 white marble, and the other like green jasper. They were surmounted 
 by figures of the King's beasts,— an antelope, having a shield of the 
 royal arms suspended from his neck, and a sceptre in his right foot ; and 
 a lion, bearing in his right claw the royal standard unfurled. 
 
 At the foot of the bridge next the city was raised a tower, formed 
 and painted like the columns before mentioned ; and, in the middle of 
 which, under a splendid pavilion, stood a naost beautiful image of St. 
 George, armed, excepting his head, which was adorned with a laurel 
 crown, studded with jems and precious stones. Behind him was a 
 crimson tapestry, with his arms (a red cross) glittering on a multitude 
 of shields. On his right hung his triumphal helmet, and on his left a 
 shield of'his arms of suitable size. In his right hand he held the hilt 
 of the sword with which he was girt, and in his left a scroll, which, ex- 
 tending along the turrets, contained these words, soli deo honor et 
 GLORIA. In a contiguous house were innumerable boys representing 
 the angelic host, arrayed in white, with glittering wings, and their hair 
 set with sprigs of laurel ; who, on the King's approach, sang, accom- 
 panied by organs, an anthem, supposed to be that beginning * Our King 
 went forth to Normandy ; ' and whose burthen is * Deo gratias, Anglia, 
 redde pro victoria,'— printed in Percy's Reliques. 
 
 The tower of the Conduit on Cornhill was decked with a tent of 
 crimson cloth, and ornamented with the King's arms, and those of Saints 
 George, Edward, and Edmund. Under the pavilion was a company of 
 hoary prophets, in golden coats and mantles, and their heads covered 
 with gold and crimson ; who, when the King passed, sent forth a great 
 quantity of sparrows and other small birds, as a sacrifice agreeable to 
 God, some of which alighted on the King's breast, some rested on his 
 shoulders, and some fluttered round about him. And the prophets then 
 sang the psalm, Cantate Domino canticum novum, &c. 
 
 The tower of the Conduit at the entrance of Cheap was hung with 
 green, and ornamented with scutcheons. Here sat twelve venerable 
 old men, having the names of the twelve Apostles written on their fore- 
 heads, together with the twelve Kings, Martyrs, and Confessors, of the 
 succession of England, who also gave their chaunt at the King's ap- 
 proach, and sent forth upon him round leaves of silver mixed with 
 wafers, and wine out of the pipes of the conduit, imitating Melchise- 
 deck's reception of Abraham, when he returned from his victory over 
 the Four Kings. 
 
 The Cross of Cheap was not visible, being concealed by a beautiful 
 castle, constructed of timber, and covered with linen painted to resem- 
 ble square blocks of white marble and green and crimson jasper. The 
 •arms of St. George adornec^the summit, those of the King and the 
 Emperor were raised on halberds, and the lower turrets had the arms 
 of the royal family and the great peers of the realm. On a stage in 
 
t54 LONDON 
 
 front came forth a chorus of virgins with timbrel and dance, as to 
 another David coming from the slaughter of Gohah ; their song of con- 
 gratulation was, ' Welcome, Henry the Fifte, King of Englond and of 
 Fraunce.' Throughout the building there was also a multitude of boys, 
 representing the heavenly host, who showered down on the King's head 
 small coins resembling gold, and boughs of laurel, and sang, accom- 
 panied by organs, the Te Deum laudamus. 
 
 The tower of the Conduit at the west end of Cheap was surrounded 
 with pavilions, in each of which was a virgin, who from cups in their 
 hands blew forth golden leaves on the King. The tower was covered 
 with a canopy made to resemble the sky and clouds, the four posts of 
 which were supported by angels, and the summit crowned with an arch- 
 angel of brilliant gold. Beneath the canopy, on a throne, was a majes- 
 tic image representing the sun, which glittered above all things, and 
 round it were angels singing and playing all kinds of musical instru- 
 ments. 
 
 This was the last of the pageantry, and, after the King had paid his 
 devotions at St. Paul's, he departed to his palace at Westminster. 
 
 Of ecclesiastical functions and processions I say little. The 
 people belonging to the Church, as well as the churches them- 
 selves, were in every street and in every function. At funerals 
 there followed the Brotherhood of Sixty, the singing clerks, and 
 the old priests of the Papey chanting the psalms for the dead. 
 And see, here is a company of a hundred and twenty. They are 
 not Londoners, they are Dutchmen ; and they have come across 
 the sea — such are the amenities of mediaeval piety — to flagellate 
 themselves for the sins of this city. Will the English follow 
 their example and go to flog themselves at Amsterdam ? For 
 there are sins to be expiated even in Holland. They are stripped 
 to the waist ; every man is armed with a whip, and is belabour- 
 ing the man in front. It is a moving spectacle. London cannot 
 choose but repent. The tears should be running down the 
 cheeks of toper, tosspot, and ' rorere.' Alas ! we hear of no 
 tears. The Dutchmen have to go home again, and may, if they 
 please, flagellate themselves for their own good, for London is 
 impenitent 
 
 Then there is the great day of the company — its saint's day 
 — the day of visible greatness for the trade. On this day is the 
 whole livery assembled ; there must be none absent, great or 
 small : all are met in the hall, every man in a new gown of the 
 trade colour. First to church ; the boys and singing clerks lead 
 the way, chanting as they go. Then march the Lord Mayor's 
 
PLANTAGENET 155 
 
 seigeants, the servants of the company, and the company itself, 
 with its wardens and the officers. Mass despatched, they return 
 home in the same order to the hall, where they find a banquet 
 spread for them, such a banquet as illustrates the wealth and 
 dignity of the trade ; the music is in the gallery, the floor is 
 spread with rushes newly laid, clean, and warm ; the air is fra- 
 grant with the burning of that scented Indian wood called San- 
 ders ; at the high table sit the master or warden, the guests — 
 even the King will sometimes dine with a city company — and 
 the court. Below, at the tables, arranged in long lines, are the 
 freemen of the company, and not the men alone, but with every 
 man sits his wife, or, if he be a bachelor, he is permitted to bring 
 a maiden with him if he chooses. Think not that a city company 
 of the olden time would call together the men to feast alone 
 while the women staid at home. Not at all. The wardens knew 
 very well that there is no such certain guard and preservative 
 of honesty and order, which are the first requisites for the pros- 
 perity of trade, as the worship of man for maiden and of maid 
 for man. 
 
 When dinner is over, they will elect the officers for the year, 
 and doubtless hear a word of admonition on the excellence of 
 the work and the jealousy with which the standard of good 
 work should be guarded. Then the loving-cup goes round, 
 and the mummers come in to perform plays and interludes, 
 dressed up in such fantastic guise as makes the women scream 
 and the men laugh and applaud. 
 
 On the day before Ascension day there was beating of the 
 bounds, a custom still observed, but with grievous shrinkage of 
 the ceremonies- 
 
 Perhaps the greatest festival of the year was May day, 
 which fell in the middle of our month of May. It must be a 
 hard year indeed when the east winds are not over and done 
 with by the middle of May. Spring was upon them. Only 
 think what was meant by spring to a people whose winters 
 were spent, as must have been the case with most of them, in 
 small houses, dark and cold, huddled round the fire without 
 candles, going to bed early, rising before daylight, eating no 
 fresh meat, fruit, or vegetables, waiting impatiently for the time 
 to return when they wc^ld live again in the open, shutters 
 down and doors thrown wide. 
 
 All the young people on the eve of May day went out 
 
156 LONDON 
 
 into the fields to gather boughs and white -thorn flowers. In 
 Chaucer's ' Court of Love,' * Forth goeth all the court, botli 
 most and least, to fetch the flowers fresh.' Later on, Herrick 
 writes : 
 
 Come, my Corinna, come, and coming, mark 
 
 How each field turns a street, each street a park 
 
 Made green and trimmed with trees ; see how 
 
 Devotion gives each house a bough 
 
 Or branch ; each porch, each door, on this 
 
 An ark, a tabernacle is 
 
 Made up of white thorn neatly interwoven. 
 
 It was the prettiest festival in the world. In every parish 
 they raised a May-pole hung with garlands and ribbons ; they 
 elected a Queen of the May, and they danced and sang about 
 their pole. The London parishes vied with each other in the 
 height and splendour of the pole. One was kept in Gerard's 
 Hall, Basing Lane (now swept away by the new streets). This 
 was forty feet high. A much later one, erected in the Strand, 
 1 66 1, in defiance to the Puritans, was 130 feet high. And there 
 was the famous May-pole of St. Andrews Under-shaft, de- 
 stroyed by the Puritans as an emblem of idolatry and profli- 
 gacy. The girls came back from their quest of flowers singing, 
 but not quite in these words : 
 
 We have been rambling all the night, 
 
 And almost all the day, 
 And now returning back again 
 
 We have brought you a branch of May. 
 
 A branch of May we have brought you, 
 
 And at your door it stands ; 
 It is but a sprout, but it's well budded out, 
 
 By the work of our Lord's hands. 
 
 And there was morris-dancing, with Robin Hood, Friar 
 Tuck, Little John, Tom the Piper, and Tom the Fool, with 
 hobby horses, pipe and tabor, mummers and devils, and I know 
 not what ; and Chepe and Cornhill and Gracechurch Street 
 were transformed into leafy lanes and woodland ways and 
 alleys cut through hawthorn and wild rose. You may see to- 
 day the hawthorn and the wild rose growing in Epping Forest, 
 just as they grew four hundred years ago. But the forest 
 has been miserably curtailed of its proportions. A great slice, 
 wedge-shaped, has been cut out bodily, and is now built upon. 
 
PLANTAGENET I57 
 
 Hainault Forest has perished these forty years, and is con- 
 verted into farms, save for a fragment, and of Middlesex Forest 
 nothing remains except the Httle piece enclosed in Lord Mans- 
 field's park. But in those days the forest came down to the 
 hamlet of Iseldun, afterwards Merry Islington. 
 
 And in the month of June there were the burning of bon- 
 fires to clear and cleanse the air, and the marching of the watch 
 on the vigils of St. John Baptist and St. Peter. 
 
 Hear the testimony of Stow : 
 
 In the months of June and July, on the vigils of festival days and 
 on the same festival days in the evenings after the sun setting, there 
 were usually made bonfires in the streets, every man bestowing wood 
 or labour towards them ; the wealthier sort also, before their doors 
 near to the said bonfires, would set out tables on the vigils, furnished 
 with sweet bread and good drink, and on the festival days with meats 
 and drinks plentifully, whereunto they would invite their neighbours 
 and passengers also to sit and be merry with them in great familiarity, 
 praising God for His benefits bestowed on them. These were called 
 bonfires as well of good amity amongst neighbours that being before 
 at controversy, were there, by the labour of others, reconciled, and 
 made of bitter enemies loving friends ; and also for the virtue that 
 a great fire hath to purge the infection of the air. On the vigil of 
 St. John the Baptist, and on St. Peter and Paul the Apostles, every 
 man's door being shadowed with green birch, long fennel, St. John's 
 wort, orpin, white lillies, and such like, garnished upon with garlands 
 of beautiful flowers, had also lamps of glass, with oil burning in them 
 all the night ; some hung out branches of iron curiously wrought, con- 
 taining hundreds of lamps alight at once, which made a goodly show, 
 namely, in New Fish Street, Thames Street, &c. Then had ye besides 
 the standing watches all in bright harness, in every ward and street of 
 this city and suburbs, a marching watch, that passed through the prin- 
 cipal streets thereof, to wit, from the little conduit by Paul's Gate to 
 West Cheap, by the stocks through Cornhill, by Leadenhall to Aldgate, 
 then back down Fenchurch Street, by Grass Church, about Grass 
 Church conduit, and up Grass Church Street into Cornhill, and through 
 it into West Cheap again. The whole way for this marching watch 
 extendeth to three thousand two hundred tailor's yards of assize ; for 
 the furniture whereof with lights, there were appointed seven hundred 
 cressets, five hundred of them being found by the companies, the 
 other two hundred by the Chamber of London. Besides the which 
 lights every constable in L^don, in number more than two hundred 
 and forty, had his cresset : the charge of every cresset was in light 
 two shillings and fourpence, and every cresset had two men, one to 
 
158 LONDON 
 
 bear or liold it, another to bear a bag with light, and to serve it, so that 
 the poor men pertaining to the cressets, taking wages, besides that 
 every one had a straw hat, with a badge painted, and his breakfast in 
 the morning, amounted in number to almost two thousand. The 
 marching watch contained in number about two thousand men, part of 
 them being old soldiers of skill, to be captains, lieutenants, sergeants, 
 corporals, &c., whifflers, drummers, and fifes, standard and ensign- 
 bearers, sword-players, trumpeters on horseback, demilances on great 
 horses, gunners with hand guns, or half hakes, archers in coats of 
 white fustian, signed on the breast and back with the arms of the 
 city, their bows bent in their hands, with sheaves of arrows by their 
 sides, pikemen in bright corslets, burganets, &c., halberds, the like 
 billmen in almaine rivets, and aprons of mail in great number ; there 
 were also divers pageants, morris dancers, constables, the one-half, 
 which was one hundred and twenty, on St. John's Eve, the other half 
 on St. Peter's Eve, in bright harness, some overgilt, and everyone a 
 jornet of scarlet thereupon, and a chain of gold, his henchman follow- 
 ing him, his minstrels before him, and his cresset light passing by 
 him, the waits of the city, ihe mayor's officers for his guard before 
 him, all in a livery of worsted or say jackets party-coloured, the 
 mayor himself well-mounted on horseback, the sword-bearer before 
 him in fair armour well mounted also, the mayor's footmen, and the 
 like torch-bearers about him, henchmen twain upon great stirring 
 horses, following him. The sheriff's watches came one after the other 
 in like order, but not so large in number as the mayor's ; for where 
 the mayor had besides his giant three pageants, each of the sheriffs 
 had besides their giants but two pageants, each their morris dance, 
 and one henchman, their officers in jackets of worsted or say party- 
 coloured, differing from the mayor's, and each from other, but having 
 harnessed men a great many, &c. 
 
 On the Feast of St. Bartholomew there were wrestlings, 
 foot-races, and shooting with the bow for prizes. On Ilolyrood 
 day (September 14th) the young men and the maidens went 
 nutting in the woods. At Martinmas (November ist; there 
 was feasting to welcome the beginning of winter. Lastly, the 
 old year ended and the new year began with the mixture and 
 succession of religious services, pageants, shows, feasting, drink- 
 ing, and dancing, which the London citizen of every degree 
 loved so much. 
 
 Then there were the city holidays. St. Lubbock had prede- 
 cessors. There were Christmas day, Twelfth Day, Easter, the 
 day of St. John the Baptist, on June 24th, and of St. Peter and 
 St. Paul, on June 29th. On the last two days, to discourage 
 
PLANTAGENET 159 
 
 the people from keeping it up all night, the vintners had to 
 close their doors at ten. 
 
 The city of London has always been famous for the great 
 plenty and variety of its food. Beef, mutton, and pork formed 
 then, as now, the staple of the diet ; small beer was the drink of 
 all, men, women, and children. When, for instance, the Fran- 
 ciscans first set up their humble cells, the small beer being short 
 in quantity, they did not drink water, but mixed water with the 
 beer, in order to make it go round. There were so many fast 
 days in the year that fish was as important a form of food as 
 mutton or beef They ate lampreys, porpoise, and sturgeon 
 among other fish. Ling, cod, and herring furnished them with 
 salted fish. Peacocks and swans adorned their tables at great 
 banquets. Their dishes were sweetened with honey, for sugar 
 was scarce, but spices were abundant. By the thirteenth cen- 
 tury they had begun to make plentiful use of vegetables. They 
 were fond of pounding meats of different kinds, such as pork 
 and poultry, and mixing them in a kind of rissole. At a cer- 
 tain great banquet, the menu of which has survived, there appears 
 neither beef nor mutton, probably because those meats belonged 
 to the daily life, but there are great birds and little birds, brawn, 
 rabbits, swans, and venison for meats, soup of cabbage, then the 
 rissoles just mentioned, and various sweetmeats. Their drink 
 was strong ale for banquets, hot spiced ale with a toast, the 
 loving-cup of hypocras, and for wines, Rhenish, sack Lisbon, 
 and wine of Bordeaux. 
 
 Since every man in the city who practised a trade must be 
 a freeman and a member of a company or trade guild, and since 
 every company looked after its livery, there should have been 
 no poor in the city at all. But performance falls short of pro- 
 mise ; laws cannot always be enforced ; there was, it is quite 
 certain, a mass of poverty and worthlessness in the city even in 
 those days. Perhaps the city proper, with its wards, was toler- 
 ably free from rogues and vagabonds, but there were the suburb 
 of Southwark, that of the Strand, that already springing up out- 
 side Cripplegate, and the city of Westminster. Plenty of room 
 here for rogues to find shelter. There were also the trades of 
 which the city took no heed, of minstrels, jugglers, and actors, 
 •and all those who lived h^ amusing others ; also the calling of 
 servant in every kind, as drover, carter, waggoner, carrier, porter 
 (not yet associated), and so forth. And there were the men who 
 
i6o LONDON 
 
 would never do any work at all, yet wanted as much drink and 
 food as the honest men who did their share. For all these 
 people, when they were hungry, there were the charities of the 
 great men, the bishops, and the monasteries. For instance, the 
 Earl of Warwick allowed any man to take as much meat as he 
 could carry away on a dagger ; the Bishop of Ely (but this was 
 later, in the sixteenth century) gave every day bread, drink, and 
 meat to two hundred poor people ; the Earl of Derby fed every 
 day, twice, sixty old people ; thrice a w^eek all comers ; and on 
 Good Friday 2,700 men and women. In the year 1293, being 
 a time of dearth, the Archbishop of Canterbury fed daily four 
 or five thousand. In 1171, Henry II., as part of his penance 
 for the murder of a Becket, fed 10,000 people from April till 
 harvest. In the reign of Edward III., the Bishop of Durham 
 bestowed on the poor every week eight quarters of wheat, be- 
 sides the broken victuals of his house. 
 
 The almshouses, of which there are so many still existing, 
 belong for the most part to a later time. The citizens founded 
 hospitals for the necessitous as well as for the sick ; they rebuilt 
 and beautified churches ; they endowed charities, and gave 
 relief to poor prisoners. The first almshouses recorded were 
 founded in the fourteenth century by William Elsing, mercer, 
 who, in 1332, endowed a house for the support of a hundred 
 blind men, and by John Stodie, citizen and vintner, Mayor in 
 1358, who built and endowed thirteen almshouses for as many 
 poor citizens. In 141 5 William Sevenoke, citizen and grocer, 
 founded a school and almshouses in his native place, and two 
 years later Whittington founded by will his college and alms- 
 houses. The college has been swallowed up, but the almshouses 
 remain, though transferred to Highgate. After this the rich 
 citizens began to remember the poor in their wills, choosing 
 rather, like Philip Malpas, Sheriff in 1440, to give clothing to 
 poor men and women, marriage dowries to poor maidens, and 
 money for the highways than to bequeath the money for the 
 singing of masses or the endowment of charities. 
 
 One more amusement must be mentioned, because it is the 
 only one of which the honest Londoners have never wearied. 
 It is mentioned by the worthy Fitz Stephen. It still continues 
 to afford joy to millions. The craftsman of the fourteenth cen- 
 tury found it at the Mermaid in Cornhill, or the Three Tuns of 
 Newgate, or the Swan of Dowgate, or the Salutation of Billings- 
 
PLANTAGENET i6i 
 
 gate, or the Boar's Head of London Stone. He found it in 
 company with his fellows, and whether he took it out of a glass 
 or a silver mazer or a black jack, he took it joyfully, and he 
 took it abundantly. Tosspots and swinkers were they then ; 
 tosspots and swinkers are they still. 
 
 To set against this eagerness for pleasure, this avidity after 
 sports of every kind, we must remember the continual recurrence 
 of plague and pestilence, especially in the fourteenth century,^ 
 when the love of shows and feasting was at its highest, and 
 when the Black Death carried off half the citizens. Is it not a 
 natural result ? When life is so uncertain that men know not 
 to-day how many will be alive to-morrow, they snatch impa- 
 tiently at the present joy ; it is too precious to be lost ; another 
 moment, and the chance will be gone — perhaps for ever. As is 
 the merriment of the camp when the battle is imminent, so is 
 the joy of the people between the comings of the plague. Life 
 never seems so full of rich and precious gifts as at such a time. 
 As for the lessons in sanitation that the plague should teach, 
 the people had not as yet begun to learn them. The lay stalls 
 and the river-bank, despite laws and proclamations, continued 
 to be heaped with filth, and the narrow street received the refuse 
 from every house. And, in addition to the occasional plague, 
 there was ever present typhoidal fever striking down old and 
 young. 
 
 Perhaps the joy of the present was also intensified by the 
 possibility of famine. At the end of the twelfth century there 
 was a terrible famine. There was one in 125 1 ; there was one 
 in 1 3 14, when ' no flesh was to be had ... a quarter of wheat, 
 beans, and peas was sold for twenty shillings.' This is some- 
 thing like twenty pounds at present prices. This famine con- 
 tinued throughout the next year, when Stow says ' horseflesh 
 was counted great delicates, the poore stole fatte dogges to eate ; 
 some (as it was said), compelled through famine, in hidden 
 places, did eate the fleshe of their owne children, and some stole 
 others which they devoured. Thieves that were in prison did 
 plucke in pieces those that were newlie brought among them, 
 and greedily devoured them half alive.' The uncertainty 
 whether next year would produce any bread at all sweetened 
 > the loaf of to-day. In ♦the year 1335 long-continued rains 
 caused a famine. In 1353 there was another; in 1438 the 
 
 » Plague in 1^48, 1361, 1367, 1369, 1407, 1478, 1485, and 1500. 
 
 ♦ M 
 
i62 LONDON 
 
 scarcity was so great that bread was made from fern roots; 
 and so on. 
 
 The earliest schools of the City were those of St. Paul's, 
 Westminster, and the Abbey of Bermondsey. Each of the 
 religious Houses in turn, as it was erected, opened another school. 
 When, however, Henry V. had suppressed the alien priories, of 
 which four certainly, and perhaps more, belonged to London, 
 their schools were also suppressed. So much was the loss felt 
 that Henry VI., the greatest founder of schools of all the kings, 
 erected four new grammar schools, namely : at St. Martin's 
 le Grand. St. Dunstan in the West, St. Mary le Bow, and 
 St. Anthony's ; and in the following year he made four more, 
 namely, in the parishes of St. Andrew's, Holborn ; All Hallows 
 the Great, Thames Street ; St. Peter's, Cornhill ; and St. Thomas 
 of Aeon. 
 
 But to what extent education prevailed, whether the sons 
 of craftsmen were taught to read and write before they were ap- 
 prenticed, I know not. For them the trivimn and the quadrivium 
 of the mediaeval school, the grammar, rhetoric, dialectic, music, 
 arithmetic, geometry, and astronomy, could not possibly be of 
 use. On the other hand, one cannot understand that the child 
 of a respectable London craftsman should be allowed to grow 
 up to the age of fourteen with no education at all. As for the 
 children of gentle birth, we know very well how they were 
 taught. Their education was planned so as to include very 
 carefully the mastery of those accomplishments which we call 
 good manners. It also included Latin, French, reading, writing, 
 poetry, and music. In the towns the merchants and the better 
 class understood very well the necessity of education for their 
 own needs. The poor scholar, however — the lad who was born 
 of humble parents and received his education for nothing — was 
 a young man well known and recognised as a common type. 
 But he never intended his learning to adorn a trade ; rather 
 should it lead him to the university, to the Church, even to a 
 bishopric. It is significant that throughout Riley's Memorials 
 there is no mention of school or of education ; there is no hint 
 anywhere how the children of the working classes were taught. 
 One thing is certain, the desire for learning was gradually grow- 
 ing and deepening in those years ; and when the Reformation 
 set the Bible free, there were plenty — thanks perhaps to King 
 Henry's grammar schools — in the class of craftsmen who could 
 
PLANTAGENET 
 
 163 
 
 read it. But as yet we are two hundred years from the freeing 
 of the Book. 
 
 It is ahvays found that the laws are strict in an inverse pro- 
 portion to the strength of the executive. Thus, had the laws 
 been properly carried out, London would have been the cleanest 
 and the most orderly town of the present, past, and future 
 
 ^) 
 
 ■f\ 
 
 iSr '■-# "^ ' '^i A'l' •^- 
 
 ..--'^i^nii 
 
 THE STRAND (1547), WITH THE STRAND CROSS, COVENT GARDEN, AND THS 
 PROCESSION OK EDWARD VI. TO HIS CORONATION AT WESTMINSTER 
 
 Every man was enjoined to keep the front of his house clean ; 
 no refuse was to be thrown intc ihe gutter ; no one was to 
 walk the streets at night. When the curfew-bell rang, first from 
 St. Martin's, and afterwards from all the churches together, the 
 gates of the City were closed ; the taverns were shut; no one 
 was allowed to walk about the streets ; no boats were to cross 
 the river ; the sergeants of Billingsgate and Quccnhithc had 
 * M 2 
 
[64 
 
 LONDON 
 
 each his boat, with its crew of four men, to guard the river and 
 the quays ; guards were posted at the closed gates ; a watch of six 
 men was set in every ward, all the men of the ward being liable 
 to serve upon it. These were excellent rules. Yqt we find men 
 haled before the Mayor charged with being common roreres 
 (roarers), with beating people in the streets, enticing them into 
 taverns, where they were made to drink and to gamble. Among 
 the common roreres was once found, alas ! a priest. What, how- 
 ever, were the other people doing in the street after curfew? 
 And why were not the taverns shut .? As is the strength of the 
 ruling arm, so should be the law. We are not ourselves free 
 from the reproach of passing laws which cannot be enforced 
 because they are against the will of the people, and the executive 
 is too weak to carry them out against that will. People, you 
 
 see, cannot be civilised 
 by statute. 
 
 The wages and hours 
 of work of the craftsmen 
 have not been satisfac- 
 torily ascertained. The 
 day's work probably 
 meant the whole day. 
 Like the rustic, he would 
 begin in the summer at 
 five and leave off at 7.30, 
 with certain breaks. In winter he would work through the day- 
 light. His wages, which were ordered for the craft by the com- 
 pany, seem to have been ample so long as employment was 
 continuous. But the crafts were always complaining of foreign 
 competition. Edward IV., in 1463, states that owing to the im- 
 port of wares fully wrought and ready made for sale, * artificers 
 cannot live by their mysteries and occupations as they have done 
 in times past, but divers of them, as well householders as hire- 
 lings, and under-servants and apprentices in great numbers, be 
 this day unoccupied, and do hardly live in great misery, poverty, 
 and need.' Therefore the statute enumerates a long list of 
 things that are not to be imported. Among these we observe 
 knives, razors, scissors — showing that the cutlery trade was 
 already flourishing then — but not swords, spear-heads, or ar- 
 mour of any kind. Actual artificers were not to be employers 
 but only servants ; those already established could sell in gross 
 
 ARMS OF SIR RICHARD WHITTINGTON 
 
PLANTAGENET 165 
 
 but not in retail, and they were not to have alien servants. That 
 there was discontent among the working men is clear from these 
 statutes and from the constant attempts of the craftsmen to 
 form journeyman or yeoman guilds, whose real objects, though 
 they might mask them under the name of religion, were to 
 increase wages and keep out new comers. 
 
 Apart from the question of wages, what the craftsmen 
 wanted was what the masters, too, demanded — ' encouragement 
 of natives, discouragement of foreigners, the development of 
 shipping, and the amassing of treasure.' ^ 
 
 Such were the people of London in the fourteenth and 
 fifteenth centuries. Such was Plantagenet London, the land of 
 Cocaigne — Cockney Land — whither the penniless young gentle- 
 man, the son of the country squire, made his way in search of 
 the fortune which others had picked up on its golden pavement. 
 
 Strewed with gold and silver sheen, 
 
 In Cockneys' streets no molde is seen ; 
 
 Pancakes be the shingles alle 
 
 Of church and cloister, bower and halle ; 
 
 Running rivers, grete and fine, 
 
 Of hypocras and ale and wine. 
 
 But, indeed, a pavement of flints and stones the City offered 
 to any who tried to win her fortunes save by the way prescribed. 
 Of course there were — there always are — many who cannot enter 
 by the appointed gate, nor keep to the ordered way. As it is now, 
 so it was then. There were rogues and cheats ; there were men 
 who preferred any way of life to the honest way. How the City 
 in its wisdom dealt with those, we shall now see. 
 
 At first sight one may be struck with the leniency of justice. 
 In cases which in later years were punished by flogging at the 
 cart tail, by hanging, by long imprisonment, the criminal of the 
 fourteenth century stood in pillory, or was made to ride through 
 the streets, the nature of his crime symbolised by something 
 hung from his neck. There were as yet no burnings, no slicing 
 off of ears ; there was no rack, no torture by rope, boot, or water. 
 It is true that those who ventured upon violence to the sacred 
 person of an Alderman were liable to have the right hand struck 
 off; but at the last n^ment that officer always begged and 
 obtained a commutation, while the criminal made humble sub- 
 
 • Cunningham, Growth of English Industry^ p. 416. 
 
i66 
 
 LONDON 
 
 mission. Those who have entered upon an inheritance of law- 
 abiding and of order have forgotten by what severities men were 
 forced into external forms of respect for the officers of justice. 
 Then, again, the Alderman knew every man in his ward ; he was 
 no stranger among his people ; he knew the circumstances and 
 the condition of every one ; he was punishing a brother who had 
 brought the ward into disrepute by his unruly conduct ; he was 
 
 therefore tender, saving the dig- 
 nity of his office and his duty to 
 the City. 
 
 For instance, it was once dis- 
 covered that wholesale robberies 
 were carried on by certain bakers 
 who made holes in their moulding- 
 boards, and so filched the dough. 
 These rogues in the last century 
 would have been flogged unmer- 
 cifully. Robert de Bretaigne, 
 Mayor A.D. 1387, was satisfied by 
 putting them in pillory till after 
 vespers at St. Paul's, with dough 
 hung about their necks, so that all 
 the world might know why they 
 were there. When certain *tapi- 
 cers ' were charged with selling 
 false blankets, that is, blankets 
 which had been ' vamped ' in 
 foreign parts with the hair of oxen 
 and cows, the blankets were or- 
 dered to be burned. On the other hand, highway robbery, bur- 
 glaries, and some cases of theft were punished by hanging. 
 The unhappy Desiderata de Torgnton, for instance, in an evil 
 moment stole from a servant of the Lady Alice de Lisle thirty 
 dishes and twenty-four salt-cellars of silver. The servant was 
 bound by sureties that he would prosecute for felony, and did 
 so, with the result that Desiderata was hanged, and her chattels 
 confiscated ; but of chattels had she none. 
 
 For selling putrid meat the offender was put in pillory, 
 and the bad meat— dreadful addition to the sentence— burned 
 beneath his nose. The sale of 'false' goods — that is, things 
 not made as they should be made, either of bad materials or 
 
 ARMS GRANTED TO THE CRAFT OF 
 THE IRONMONGERS OF LONDON 
 BY LANCASTER KING OF ARMS, 
 A.D. 1466 
 
PLANTAGENET 
 
 167 
 
 of inferior materials — was always punished by destruction of 
 the things. 
 
 What should be done to a man who spoke disrespectfully of 
 the Mayor? One Roger Torold, citizen and vintner, in the 
 year of grace 1355, and in the twenty-eighth year of our 
 Sovereign Lord King Edward III., said one day, in the presence 
 of witnesses, that he was ready to defy the Mayor, and that if 
 he should catch the Mayor outside the City, then the Mayor 
 should never come back to it alive. These things being reported, 
 the Mayor caused him to be brought before himself, the Alder- 
 men, and Sheriffs at the Guildhall. The prisoner confessed his 
 
 GUILDHALL, KING STREET, LONDON 
 
 crime, and put himself upon the favour of the Court. He was 
 committed to prison while the Court considered what should be 
 done to him. Being brought to the bar, he offered to pay a fine 
 of one hundred tuns of wine for restoration to the favour of t^[^ 
 Mayor. This was accepted, on the condition that he shoull^^^ 
 also make a recognizance of 40/. sterling to be paid if ever again 
 he should abuse or insult the name or person of the Mayor. 
 For perjury, the offender was, for a first crime, taken to the 
 Guildhall, and there placed upon a high stool, bareheaded, before 
 the Mayor and Aldermerff For the second offence he was placed 
 in pillory. For women, the thew was substituted for the pillory. 
 One Alice, wife of Robert de Causton, stood in the thew for 
 
:6^ 
 
 LONDON 
 
 thickening the bottom of a quart pot with pitch, so as to give 
 short measure. The said quart pot was divided into two parts, 
 of which one half was tied to the pillory in sight of the people, 
 and the other half was kept in the Guildhall. 
 
 BI.ACKWEI.I. HALL, KING STREET 
 
 Death by hanging or pillory. These were almost the only 
 punishments. The cases before the Mayor's Court remind us of 
 the remarkable resemblance we bear to our ancestors. They are 
 monotonous because they read like the cases in a modern Police 
 Court. Giles Pykeman goes in terror of his life, because certain 
 persons threaten him, but they find surety for good behaviour- 
 John Edmond Commonger, convicted of passing off bad oats for 
 good — pillory. John William, for passing off rings of latten as 
 rings of gold — pillory. Nicolas Mollere, for spreading false 
 news — pillory, with a whetstone round his neck to mark the 
 offence. Heavens ! If this offence were again made penal. 
 John Mayn, indicted for being a leper — banished out of the City. 
 Robert Brebason, stock fishmonger, charged with assault in 
 presence of the Mayor. Not a case for pillory this : let him be 
 imprisoned for a year and a day in Newgate. Alice Sheltior, 
 charged with being a common scold — to the thew. John 
 Rykorre, cordwainer, for forging a bond — pillory. 
 
PI.ANTAGENET 169 
 
 As an illustration of the times I give the story of William 
 Blakeney. He was a shuttle- maker by trade but a pilgrim by 
 profession. He dressed for the part with long hair, long gown, 
 and bare feet. He loitered about in places where men resorted 
 — taverns and such — and there entertained all comers with 
 traveller's tales. He had been everywhere, this pious and ad- 
 venturous pilgrim. He had seen Seville, city of sacred relics ; 
 Rome, the abode of his Holiness the Pope ; he had even seen 
 the Pope himself He had been to the Holy Land, and stood 
 within the very sepulchre of our Lord. And what with the 
 strange creatures he had met with in those far-off lands, and the 
 men and women among whom he had sojourned, and the things 
 he could tell you, and the things which he postponed till the 
 next time, the story would fill volumes. For six years he lived 
 in great comfort, eating and drinking of the best, always at the 
 expense of his hearers. This man must have been an unequalled 
 story-teller. Six years of invention ever fresh and new ! Then 
 he was found out — he had never been a pilgrimage in his life. 
 He had never been out of sight of the London walls. So he 
 stood in pillory — this poor novelist, who would in these days 
 have commanded so much respect and such solid rewards — he 
 stood in pillory, with a whetstone round his neck, as if he had 
 been a common liar ! And then he had to go back to the dull 
 monotony of shuttle-making, and that in silence, with nobody 
 to believe him any more. Well, he shortly afterwards died, I 
 am convinced, of suppressed fiction. But perhaps his old friends 
 rallied round him, and by the light of the fire he still beguiled 
 the long evenings by telling for the hundredth time of the one- 
 eyed men, and the men with tails, and the men who have but 
 one leg, and use their one foot for an umbrella against the 
 scorching sun — all of whom he had seen in the deserts on 
 the way from Jerusalem to Damascus, where St. Paul was 
 converted. 
 
 On a day in the beginning of October 1382, there was great 
 excitement in the parish of St. Mildred, Poultry. A certain 
 mazer, or silver cup, the property of Dame Matilda de Eye, had 
 been stolen. Now, whether Alan, the water-carrier, had his sus- 
 picions, or whether he was himself suspected, or whether he 
 wished to fix the guilt* on somebody else, I know not, but he 
 repaired to the house of Robert Berewold, of great repute for 
 art magic, and inquired of him as to the real thief. Whereupon 
 
170 
 
 LONDON 
 
 Robert took a loaf, and in the top of it fixed a round peg of 
 wood, and four knives at the four sides, so as to present the 
 figure of a cross. He then did * soothsaying and art magic ' 
 over the loaf After which he declared that Johanne Wolsy was 
 the person who had stolen the cup. 
 
 This thing being bruited abroad, and the voice of the indig- 
 nant Johanne ascending to the ears of the Aldermen, the said 
 Robert was attached to make answer to the Mayor and com- 
 monalty as in a plea of deceit and falsehood. Answer there was 
 none. Whereupon Robert stood in pillory for one hour, the 
 loaf, peg, and knives hung about his neck ; and on the following 
 
 Sunday he went to the parish 
 church — it is now pulled 
 down — and in the presence of 
 the congregation confessed 
 that he had falsely defamed 
 the same Johanne. Mean- 
 time, Alan, one may believe, 
 had consigned the mazer to a 
 safe place, and joined in the 
 congratulations of Johannes 
 friends. 
 
 Would you know how a 
 young married couple set up 
 housekeeping ? Here is the 
 inventory of the household 
 furniture of such a pair in the 
 fourteenth century. It is not 
 the only document of the kind which exists, but it is interesting 
 because it forms part of a story which remains unfinished. 
 
 The inventory belongs to the year 1337. The proprietor's 
 name was Hugh le Bevere ; that of his wife Alice. Hugh le 
 Bevere was a craftsman of the better sort, but not a master. 
 He was so well off that the furniture of his house, including 
 clothes, was valued at 12/. iSs. 4^., which, being interpreted into 
 modern money, means about 200/. He had been married but a 
 short time when the events occurred which caused this inventory 
 to be drawn up. The newly-married pair lived in a house con- 
 sisting of two rooms, one above the other. The lower room, 
 which was kitchen and keeping-room in one, was divided from 
 the houses on either side by solid stone walls ; it had a chimney 
 
 ANCIENT TLATB 
 
PLANTAGENET 
 
 171 
 
 and a fireplace ; the walls were hung round with kitchen uten- 
 sils, tools, and weapons ; a window opened to the street, the 
 upper part of which was glazed, while the lower part could be 
 closed by a stout shutter; the door opened into the street; 
 there was another door at the back, which opened upon a buttery, 
 where there stood ranged in a row six casks of wine. One fold- 
 ing table and two chairs served for their wants, because they 
 were not rich enough to entertain their friends. A ladder led 
 
 THE CONDUIT, NEAR BAYSWATER 
 
 to the upper room, which was an 
 attic or garret, built of wood and 
 thatched with rush. Here was 
 the bed with a mattress, three 
 feather beds, and two pillows. A great wooden coffer held their 
 household gear ; here were six blankets and one serge, a coverlet 
 with shields of sendall (a kind of thin silk), eight linen sheets, 
 four table-cloths. The clothes, which were laid in chests or 
 hung upon the wall, consisted of three surcoats of worsted and 
 ray ; one coat with a hood of perset (peach coloured cloth), 
 and another of worsted ; two robes of perset ; one of medley, 
 'furred ; one of scarlet, ft^red ; a great hood of sendall with 
 edging ; one camise (only one !) and half a dozen savenapes 
 (aprons). One perceives that the inventory omits many things. 
 
172 LONDON 
 
 Where, for instance, were the hosen and the shoon? For 
 kitchen utensils there were brass pots, a grate, andirons, basins, 
 washing vessels, a tripod, an iron horse, an iron spit, a frying-pan, 
 a funnel, and two ankers — i.e. tubs. They had one candlestick 
 ' of lattone ' ; two plates ; an aumbrey (cabinet or small cup- 
 board) ; curtains to hang before the doors to keep out the cold ; 
 cushions and a green carpet ; and for the husband a haketon, or 
 suit of leather armour, and an iron head-piece. Of knives, forks, 
 wooden plates, cups, glasses, or drinking measures there is 
 nothing said at all. But it is evident that the house was pro- 
 vided with everything necessary for solid comfort ; plenty of 
 kitchen vessels, for instance, and plenty of soft feather beds, 
 blankets, pillows, curtains, and sheets. 
 
 Every morning at six o'clock, after a hunch of bread, a 
 substantial slice of cold meat, and a pull at the black-jack of 
 small ale, Hugh le Bevere walked off to his day's work. Then 
 Alice, left at home, washed and scoured, made and mended, 
 cooked the dinner, talked to the neighbours, and, when all was 
 done, sat in the doorway enjoying the sunshine and spinning 
 busily. 
 
 They had been married but a short time. There were no 
 children. Then — one knows nothing ; one must not judge 
 harshly ; there may have been jealousy ; there may have been 
 cause for jealousy ; perhaps the woman had a tongue unendur- 
 able (fourteenth-century tongues were cruelly sharp) ; perhaps 
 the man had a temper uncontrolled (in that century there were 
 many such) ; but no one knows, and, again, we must not judge 
 • — then, I say, the end came, suddenly and without warning. 
 When it was all over, some of the neighbours thought they had 
 heard high words and a smothered shriek, but then we often 
 think we have heard what probably happened. In the morning 
 Hugh le Bevere went not forth to his work as usual ; Alice did 
 not open the door ; the shutters remained closed. The neigh- 
 bours knocked ; there was no answer. They sent for the Alder- 
 man, who came with his sergeants, and broke open the door. 
 Alas ! alas ! They found the body of Alice lying stark and 
 dead upon the floor ; beside her sat her husband with white face 
 and haggard eyes, and the evidence of his crime, the knife itself, 
 lying where he had thrown it. 
 
 They haled him to the Lord Mayor's Court. They ques- 
 tioned him. He made no reply at first, looking as one dis- 
 
PLANTAGENET 
 
 173 
 
 traught ; when he spoke, he refused to plead. For this, in later 
 times, he would have been pressed to death. What was done 
 to him was almost as bad ; for they took him to Newgate, and 
 shut him up in a cell with penance, that is to say, on bread and 
 water, until he died. 
 
 This done, they buried the unfortunate Alice, and made the 
 inventory of all the chattels, which the City confiscated, and 
 sold for 12/. iSs. 4d., out of which, no doubt, they paid for the 
 funeral of the woman and the penance of the man. The rest, 
 one hopes, was laid out in masses, as far as it would go, for the 
 
 SOUTH-EAST VIEW OF STEPNEY CHURCH 
 
 souls of the hapless pair. Death has long since released Hugh 
 le Bevere; he has entered his plea before another Court ; but 
 the City has never learned why he killed his wife, or if, indeed 
 he really did kill her. 
 
 Of Plantagenet London this is my picture. You see a busy, 
 boisterous, cheerful city ; with the exception of the cities of 
 Ghent and Bruges and Antwerp, the busiest and the most 
 prosperous city of the Western world, with the greatest liberty 
 ►of the people, the greatest plenty of all good things, and the 
 happiest conditions of any town. You have seen that though 
 the sovereign was King within as well as without the walls. 
 
174 LONDON 
 
 there was no other Over- Lord ; the royal hand was sometimes 
 heavy, but its weight was better to bear than the internal dis- 
 sensions that ravaged the Italian cities ; it was better that 
 London should suffer with the rest of the country than that she 
 should sit, like Venice, secure and selfish beside her quays, 
 though the people of the land behind were torn with civil wars 
 and destroyed by famine and overrun by a foreign enemy. 
 
 When we think of this period let us never forget its external 
 splendour — the silken banners, the heralds in their embroidered 
 coats, the livery of the great lords, the Mayor and Aldermen in 
 their robes riding to hear mass at St. Paul's, the cloth of gold, 
 the vair and miniver, the ermine and the sable, the robes of 
 perset and the hoods of sendall, the red velvet and the scarlet 
 silk, the great gold chains, the caps embroidered with pearls, 
 the horses with their trappings, the banners and the shields, 
 the friars jostling the parish priests, the men-at-arms, the City 
 ladies, as glorious with their raiment as the ladies of the court, 
 the knights, the common folk, the merchant, and the prentice. 
 Mostly I like to think of the prentice. One always envies the 
 young ; theirs is the inheritance. The prentice lived amidst 
 these glories, which seemed like pageants invented entirely for 
 his delight. It was a time when the fleeting shows and vanities 
 of life were valued all the more because they were so fleeting. 
 He looked around, and his heart swelled with the joy of think- 
 ing that some day these things would fall to him if he was 
 lucky, diligent, and watchful. His was the threefold vow of 
 industry, obedience, and duty. By keeping this vow he would 
 attain to the place and station of his master. 
 
 Meantime, there were great sights to be seen and no 
 hindrance to his seeing them. 
 
 When there any ridings were in Chepe, 
 Out of the shoppe thider would he lepe : 
 And till that he had all the sights y seen, 
 And danced well he would not come again. 
 
 For the continued noise and uproar of the City, for its 
 crowds, for its smells, the people cared nothing. They were 
 part of the City. They loved everything that belonged to it — 
 their great cathedral ; their hundred churches ; their monasteries ; 
 their palaces and the men-at-arms ; the nobles, priests, and 
 monks ; the Mayor and Aldermen ; the ships and the sailors ; 
 
PLANTAGENET 175 
 
 the merchants and the craftsmen ; the ridings and the festivals 
 and the holy days ; the ringing, clinging, clashing of the bells 
 all day long ; the drinking at the taverns ; the wrestling and 
 the archery ; the dancing ; the pipe and tabor ; the pageants, 
 and the mumming and the love-making — all, all they loved. 
 And they thought in their pride that there was not anywhere 
 in the whole habitable world — witness the pilgrims and the 
 ship-captains, who had seen the whole habitable world— any 
 city that might compare with famous London Town. 
 
176 
 
 LONDON 
 
 VI 
 
 TUDOR 
 
 BOAR IN EASTCIIEAP 
 
 SPRINGTIME AMONG THE RUINS 
 
 If the London of the Third 
 Edward was a city of palaces, 
 that of Queen EHzabeth was a 
 city of ruins. 
 
 Ruins everywhere ! Ruins 
 of cloisters, halls, dormitories, 
 courts, and chapels, and 
 churches. Ruins of carved 
 altar-pieces, canopies, statues, 
 painted windows, and graven 
 fonts. Ruins of old faiths and old traditions. Ruins every- 
 where. Only consider what became of the monastic buildings. 
 King Edward's Cistercian House, called the New Abbey, or 
 Eastminster, was pulled * clean down,' and in its place store- 
 houses for victuals and ovens for making ships' biscuits were 
 set up. On the abbey grounds were erected small tenements 
 for poor working people, the only inhabitants of that neigh- 
 bourhood where is now the Mint. Sir Arthur Darcie it was 
 who did this. The Convent of St. Clare, called the Minories, 
 was similarly treated, its site converted into storehouses. The 
 old buildings are always said to have been entirely pulled 
 down, but their destruction was never thorough. Walls were 
 everywhere left standing, because it was too much trouble to 
 pull them down. For instance, the north wall of the present 
 mean little Church of the Holy Trinity, Minories, ugliest and 
 meanest of all modern London churches, was formerly part of 
 the wall of the nuns' chapel. 
 
 More fortunate than the other monastic churches, that of 
 the Austin Friars was allowed to remain standing. The nave 
 was walled off, and assigned to the Dutch residents, with whom 
 
TUDOR 177 
 
 it has continued to this day. You may attend the service on 
 Sunday, and, while the preacher in the black gown addresses 
 his scanty audience in the language which, though it sounds so 
 much like English, you cannot understand, you may look about 
 you, and think of the Augustine Brothers who built this church. 
 In their time it was filled with monuments, of which not a 
 single one now remains. The nave was greatly damaged by a 
 fire in 1862, but the walls and columns of the ancient church 
 remain. The rest of the church, including the finest and most 
 beautiful spire in the whole city, was all pulled down by the 
 Marquis of Winchester, who broke up and sold the whole of 
 the monuments for a hundred pounds. In this church were 
 buried, among other illustrious dead, the great Hubert de 
 Burgh ; Edmund Plantagenet, half brother to Richard II. ; the 
 barons who fell at the battle of Barnet ; Richard . FitzAlan, 
 Earl of Arundel, beheaded 1 397 ; the Earl of Oxford, be- 
 headed 1463 ; and Edward Strafford, Duke of Buckingham, 
 beheaded 1 521. Winchester House, which stood till fifty years 
 ago, was built on part of the abbey grounds ; Cromwell House, 
 on a site where now stands the Drapers' Hall, on another part. 
 
 The Priory of the Holy Trinity, granted to Sir Thomas 
 Audley, fared worse still, for the whole church, choir, transepts, 
 nave, steeple, and all, was, with great labour, pulled down, and 
 the whole materials and monuments sold for paving or building 
 stones at sixpence a cartload. The ring of nine bells was 
 divided between Stepney Church and St. Katherine Cree, 
 where, I believe, they still hang and do their duty. So much, 
 and that is all, is left of this proud foundation. Sir Thomas 
 Audley, who obtained the precinct by gift of the King, built a 
 house upon it. His daughter and heiress marrying the Duke 
 of Norfolk, the house and grounds were named after their new 
 owner. Duke's Place and Duke Street preserve the new name. 
 The former, now a mean square, crowded with Jews engaged in 
 the fruit trade, is certainly the site of one of the courts of the 
 old priory. It is at the back of St. Katherine Cree Church in 
 Leadenhall Street. Strange, that of this most rich and splendid 
 house not a vestige should remain either of name, or building, 
 or tradition. 
 
 ) Crutched Friars' Church was made into a carpenter's shop 
 and a tennis court. Their refectory, a very noble hall, became 
 a glass house, and was burned to the ground in the year 1575. 
 # N 
 
/ 
 
 1/8 LONDON 
 
 St. Mary's Spital, outside Bishopsgate, which had been a 
 hospital with one hundred and eighty beds, was entirely de- 
 stroyed and built over. But Spital Square, which now remains, 
 marks the site of the churchyard, where stood (in the north-east 
 corner) the famous spital pulpit, from which, for three hundred 
 years, sermons were preached at Easter before the Lord Mayor 
 and Aldermen and the citizens. It is an illustration of English 
 conservatism that long after the hospital was demolished, and 
 when the pulpit stood in an ordinary square of private resi- 
 dences, the same custom was kept up, with the same official 
 attendance of the corporation. 
 
 The Nunnery of St. Helen's became the property of the 
 Leathersellers' Company. The nuns' chapel still remains, form- 
 ing the north part of a church, which, for its antiquity and its 
 monuments, is one of the most interesting in London. The 
 nuns' refectory formed the Company's Hall until the year 1790, 
 when, with its ancient crypt, it was pulled down to make way 
 for the present St. Helen's Place. Considerable ruins of the 
 nunnery remained until the same time. 
 
 The Church of the Knights Hospitallers was blown up with 
 gunpowder ; its ruins and those of the priory buildings re- 
 mained for many years. The Charter House was first given by 
 Henry VHI. to Sir Thomas Audley, passed from him to Lord 
 North, to Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, to Lord North 
 again, to the Duke of Norfolk, to the Crown, to the Earl of 
 Suffolk, and to Thomas Sutton. The last transfer was in 161 1. 
 Sutton endowed it as a charity under the name of the Hospital 
 of King James. This noble foundation has ever since e cisted 
 as a hospital for decayed gentlemen and a school for boys. 
 Some of the old monastic buildings yet survive in the Charter 
 House. Its name of the Hospital of King James has long been 
 forgotten. The place has been celebrated by Thackeray, and it 
 is, at this day, the most beautiful and the most venerable monu- 
 ment- of old London. 
 
 The magnificent Church of the Dominicans, or Black Friars, 
 was destroyed. Either the hall of the abbey or a portion of 
 the church was used as a storehouse for the ' properties ' of 
 pageants — strange fate for the house of the Dominicans, those 
 austere upholders of doctrine. A playhouse was erected by 
 Shakespeare and his friends among the ruins, which remained 
 standing for a long time. Only a few years ago the extension 
 
TUDOR 
 
 179 
 
 of the Times offices in Printing House Square brought to light 
 many substantial remains. The Abbey of Bermondsey fur- 
 nished materials and a site for a great house for the Earl of 
 Sussex. A tavern was built on the site of the Church of St. 
 Martin's le Grand. The Church of St. Bartholomew's Priory 
 was pulled down to the choir, which was converted into a 
 parish church. The bells were put up in the tower of St. 
 Sepulchre. The Church of the Grey Friars was spared, but as for 
 its monuments — consider ! 
 There were buried here 
 the queens of Edward I. 
 and Edward II., the queen 
 of David Bruce, an innu- 
 merable company of great 
 lords, nobles, and fighting 
 men, with their dames and 
 daughters. The place was 
 a Campo Santo of mediae- 
 val worthies. Their monu- 
 ments. Stow writes, 'are 
 wholly defaced. There 
 were nine tombs of ala- 
 baster and marble, en- 
 vironed with " strikes " of 
 iron, in the choir, and one 
 tomb in the body of the 
 church, also coped with 
 iron, all pulled down, be- 
 sides sevenscore grave- 
 stones of marble.' The 
 whole were sold for fifty 
 
 pounds or thereabouts by Sir Martin Bowes, goldsmith and 
 alderman of London. Surely the carved marble and sculptured 
 alabaster did not teach the hated papistical superstitions ; yet 
 they all went ; and it was with bare walls, probably washed white 
 or yellow to hide the frescoes, that the building became the parish 
 church now called Christ Church. The monastery buildings were 
 converted into the Bluecoat School. 
 
 p Such was the fate of ^le greater houses. Add to these the 
 smaller foundations, all whelmed in the common destruction ; 
 the colleges, such as that of St. Spirit, founded by Whittington ; 
 
 • N 2 
 
 INTERIOR OF ST. KATHERINE'S CHURCH 
 BY THE TOWER 
 
i8o LONDON 
 
 that founded by Walworth ; that founded by Richard III., at- 
 tached to Allhallows Barking ; St. John's, Holywell ; St. Thomas 
 of Aeon, a rich foundation with a lovely church ; the College of 
 Jesus ; the Hospital of St. Anthony ; Jesus Commons ; Elsing 
 Spital ; and we begin to realise that London was literally a city 
 of ruins. 
 
 It is at first hard to understand how there should have been, 
 even among the baser sort, so little reverence for the past, so 
 little regard for art ; that these treasure-houses of precious 
 marbles and rare carvings should have been rifled and destroyed 
 without raising so much as a murmur ; nay, that the very build- 
 ings themselves should have been pulled down without a protest. 
 Once only the citizens remonstrated. It was in the hope of 
 saving from destruction the lofty and most beautiful spire of 
 Austin Friars, but in vain. It seems to us impossible that the 
 tombs of so many worthies should have been destroyed without 
 the indignation of all who knew the story of the past. Yet in 
 our own day we have seen — nay, we see daily — the wanton and 
 useless destruction of ancient buildings. Winchester House, 
 which ought to have been kept as a national monument, was 
 pulled down in 1839; Sir Paul Finder's house, another unique 
 specimen, vanished only yesterday ; within the last few years a 
 dozen City churches have been destroyed, in total disregard to 
 their historical associations. At this very moment the church 
 where John Carpenter, Whittington's executor and the founder 
 of the City of London School, the church whose site has been 
 consecrated as long as that of any church in the City, where 
 King Alfred may have worshipped, is standing roofless, waiting 
 to make way for offices not wanted. Nay, the very City clergy 
 themselves, the official guardians of all that is venerable, have 
 in our own days — the actual, living City clergy ! — basely sold 
 their most beautiful old house, Sion College, and built a new 
 and garish place on the Thames Embankment, which they call 
 Sion College ! It is unfortunately too true that there is not, at 
 any time or with any people, reverence for things venerable, old, 
 and historical, save with a few. The greater part are careless of 
 the past, unable to see or feel anything but the present. The 
 City clergy of to-day are no better than Sir Thomas Audrey, 
 Sir Arthur Darcie, and the rest. 
 
 There were other ruins. Cromwell's men were not the only 
 zealots against popish monuments, signs, and symbols. The 
 
TUDOR i8i 
 
 parish churches were filled with ruins. The carved fonts were 
 defaced ; the side chapels were desolate and empty ; the altars 
 were stripped ; the rood screens were removed ; the roods them- 
 selves were taken down ; the painted walls were whitewashed ; 
 the simple service that was read in the vulgar tongue seemed to 
 the people at first a ruin of the old mass ; the clergyman, called 
 minister or priest, who preached in the black gown, was a ruin 
 of the priest in his gorgeous robes ; the very doctrines of the 
 Protestant faith seemed at first built out of the ruins of the old, 
 as the second Temple was built upon the ruins of the first, and 
 was but a poor thing in comparison. At first only, because the 
 work was thorough, and in a single generation all the traditions 
 of the ancient faith were lost and forgotten. 
 
 If, indeed, the Reformation was to be carried at all, it was 
 necessary, for the prevention of civil war, that it should be 
 thorough. Therefore the young generation must be made to 
 believe that a return of the old things was absolutely impos- 
 sible ; that the old religion could never, under any circumstances, 
 be revived. When Queen Mary ascended the throne, the work 
 was only half done ; the Protestant faith had not yet taken root; 
 yet when she died, five years later, no lamentations were made 
 over the second departure of the priests. It is a commonplace 
 that the flames of Smithfield, more than the preaching of 
 Latimer, reconciled the people to the loss of the old religion. I 
 do not think that the commonplace is more than half true, 
 because the flames were again kindled, and more than once, in 
 the reign of Elizabeth without any murmur from the people. 
 Henceforth the old religion was dead indeed, and impossible to 
 be revived. When Shakespeare came up to London, he found 
 many who could remember the monks — grey, white, and black ; 
 the Franciscan — innocent of the old simplicity ; the rich and 
 stately Benedictine ; the austere Dominican ; the pardoner and 
 the limitour ; the mass, and the holy days of the Church ; but 
 we find in Shakespeare's writings no trace of any regret for their 
 disappearance, or of any desire for their return. The past was 
 gone ; even the poetic side of a highly poetic time was not 
 touched, or hardly touched, by the sadness and pathos of this 
 great fall ; the dramatists and poets have made nothing out of it. 
 
 The people lived an^ng the ruins but regarded them not, 
 any more than the vigorous growth within the court of a roofless 
 Norman castle regards the donjon and the walls. They did not 
 
i82 LONDON 
 
 inquire into the history of the ruins ; they did not want to pre- 
 serve them ; they took away the stones and sold them for new 
 buildings. 
 
 It was very remarkable and very fitting that on the site of 
 the Grey Friars' House should be erected a great school. The 
 teaching of the new thought was established in the place where 
 those dwelt who had been the most stalwart defenders of the 
 old. It was also very remarkable and very fitting that within 
 the walls of Black Friars' Abbey, the home of austerity and 
 authority, should rise a playhouse for the dramas of free thought 
 and human passion. It was further remarkable and very fitting 
 that the house of the Carthusian monks, those who had fled 
 from the work, and war, and temptations of the world, those 
 who, while yet living, were already dead, should be converted 
 into a home for those who were broken down and spent with 
 that very work and war, a place where they could meditate in 
 their old age over the storm and struggle of the past. 
 / Once arrived at the second half of the sixteenth century we 
 
 are in modern times. We have maps, surveys, descriptions of 
 the City ; we have literature in plenty to illustrate the manners 
 of the time. There is no longer any doubt upon any point. 
 The daily life of London under Elizabeth and the first James 
 may be learned in all its details by anyone who will take the 
 trouble to read, as easily as the daily life in our own time. 
 Perhaps more easily, because things which are so trivial and yet 
 mean so much are passed over or taken for granted in the 
 literature of our day. But let no one be content with reading 
 the modern books upon the Elizabethan period. They contain 
 a great deal, but the literature of the time itself is a storehouse, 
 into which everyone who wishes, however lightly, to study the 
 time should look for himself And it is a storehouse so full 
 that no man can hope to exhaust though he could carry out of 
 it load upon load of treasure. 
 
 Before me hangs a facsimile of the map made by Ralph 
 Agas. ' Civitas Londinium.' One remarks first, that the part 
 y lying south of Chepe is still the most crowded, yet not so 
 crowded that there are no open spaces. Between Size Lane, for 
 instance, and Walbrook is a great garden. Behind Whitting- 
 ton College is a large open court, which was also certainly a 
 garden. There are gardens in Blackfriars of which the only 
 remains at the present day are the pretty little square called 
 
TUDOR 
 
 183 
 
 Wardrobe Court and the tiny garden — 1 believe there is still one 
 other garden left — at the back of the rectory of St. Andrew's. 
 North of Chepe the streets are wider, and the open spaces 
 larger and more frequent. At Grey Friars, already the Blue- 
 coat School, the courts of the monastery are yet standing with 
 the church, and the great garden still stretches unto the city 
 wall ; in the corner of the wall, where is now Monkwell Street, 
 with Barber Surgeon's Hall, is a fine large garden. On either 
 side of Coleman Street there are very extensive gardens ; those 
 on the west belonged to the Augustine Friars, the last remnant 
 of which, the Drapers' Garden, was built over a few years ago 
 to the enrichment of the Company and the loss of the City. 
 
 Some part of the gardens of the Holy Trinity Priory remain. 
 There are gardens and trees and an open space within Aldgate ; 
 and an open court, or series of courts, where had been the 
 nunnery of St. Helen's. Without the walls, on the east. East 
 Smithfield is a large field, with paths across. The sites of New 
 Abbey and the convent of the Clare Sisters are marked by 
 courts and gardens. Houses stand north and south along the 
 Whitechapel Road, but not far; a single row of houses runs 
 along Hound's ditch from Aldgate to Bishopsgate. Without 
 the latter there is a line of houses as far as Shoreditch Church, 
 and here the open country begins. Finsbury and Moorfields 
 are to a great extent divided up into gardens, each with its 
 house, reminding one of Stubbes's complaint against the citi- 
 
1 84 
 
 LONDON 
 
 zens' wives and daughters, that they use their husbands* gardens 
 outside the walls for purposes of intrigue. All round the north 
 and east of the City the people could step out of the gates into 
 the country. Except the houses of Bishopsgate Without and 
 the Whitechapel Road, there was nothing but fields and open 
 ground. Around St. Giles, Cripplegate, however, we find a 
 suburb already populous. About Smithfield the houses gather 
 thickly. We observe the familiar names of Little Britain, Pye 
 Corner, Cock Lane, and Hoosier Lane. Holborn, with gardens 
 
 .f^,,^.--. 
 
 THE POOL 
 
 on the north, has a double line of houses as far as Chancery 
 Lane. Where is now Blackfriars Bridge Road stood the palace 
 of Bridewell, with its two square courts and its gabled front 
 facing the river. Whitefriars is partly built upon, but some of 
 the courts and gardens remain. The lawns of the Temple, 
 planted with elms, slope down to the river, and these were fol- 
 lowed westward by the palaces along the Strand— Exeter 
 House, Arundel House, the Bishop of Llandaff's house, Somer- 
 set House, the Savoy, Bedford House, Cecil House, Northumber- 
 land House, and the rest, of which Somerset House alone re- 
 mains, and that in altered guise. There are no docks as yet. The 
 lading and the unlading of the ships continued almost until this 
 
TUDOR 185 
 
 century to be done in the Pool below London Bridge by barges 
 and lighters. 
 
 In considering the people of London in the time of good 
 Queen Bess one is forced to put the poets and dramatists first, 
 because they are the chief glory of this wonderful reign. Yet 
 such a harvest could only spring from a fruitful soil. Of such 
 temper as were the poets, so also — so courageous, so hopeful, so 
 confident — were the inarticulate mass for whom they sang and 
 spoke. Behind Kit Marlowe, Greene, and Peele were the tur- 
 bulent youth, prodigal of life, eager for joy, delighting in feast 
 and song, always ready for a fight, extravagant in speech and 
 thought, jubilant in their freedom from the tyranny of the 
 Church. Behind Spenser and Sydney were the cultivated class, 
 whose culture has never been surpassed. Behind Shakespeare, 
 Ben Jonson, Massinger, and Beaumont, and the rest were the 
 people of all conditions, from Gloriana herself down to Bardolph 
 and Doll. We can only get at the people through those who 
 write about them. Therefore we must needs say something 
 about the Elizabethan poets. 
 
 Fortunately there are plenty of them. In proportion to the 
 population, far, very far more than we have even at the present 
 day, when every year the reviews find it necessary to cry out 
 over the increasing tide of new books. Of poets, in what other 
 age could the historian enumerate forty of the higher and nearly 
 two hundred of the lower rank ? Of the forty, most are well 
 remembered and read even to the present day ; for instance, 
 Chapman, Giles and Phineas Fletcher, Robert Greene, Marston, 
 Sackville, Sylvester, Donne, Drayton, Drummond, Gascoigne, 
 Marlowe, Raleigh, Spenser, Wither, may be taken as poets still 
 read and loved, while the list does not include Shakespeare and 
 the dramatists. Nearly two hundred and forty poets ! Why, 
 with a population of a hundred millions of English-speaking 
 people now in the world, we have not a half or a sixth of that 
 number, while in the same proportion we should have to equal 
 in number the Elizabethan singers — about 5,CX)0. But in that 
 age every gentleman wrote verse ; the cultivation of poetry was 
 like the cultivation of music. Every man could play an instru- 
 ment ; every man could take his part in a glee or madrigal ; so, 
 also, every man could turn his set of verses, with the result of a 
 fine and perfect flower of poetry which has never been surpassed. 
 
 But they were not only poets. They had every kind of 
 
i86 LONDON 
 
 literature in far greater abundance, considering the small 
 number of educated people, than exists in our own time, and 
 in as great variety. Consider ! There are now scattered over 
 the whole world a hundred millions of English-speaking people, 
 of whom at least five-sixths read something, if it is only a 
 penny newspaper, and at least a half read books of some kind. 
 In Elizabeth's reign there were about six millions, of whom 
 more than half could not read at all. The reading public of 
 Great Britain and Ireland, considered with regard to numbers, 
 resembled what is now found in Holland, Norway, or Denmark. 
 Yet from so small a people came this mass of literature, great, 
 varied, and immortal. 
 
 In the matter of fiction alone they were already rich. There 
 were knightly books : the ' Morte d'Arthur,' the * Seven Cham- 
 pions,' 'Amadis of Gaul,' ' Godfrey of Bouillon,' ' Palmerin of 
 England,' and many more. There were story-books, as the 
 ' Seven Wise Masters,' the ' Gesta Romanorum,' the * Amorous 
 Fiammetta,' the jest books of Skogin, Tarleton, Hobson, Skel- 
 ton, Peele, and others. There was the famous Euphues, Sidney's 
 ' Arcadia,' all the pastoral romances, and the * picaresque ' novels 
 of Nash and Dekker. Then there were the historians and 
 chroniclers, as Stow, Camden, Speed, Holinshed ; the essayists, 
 as Sir Thomas Browne, Ascham, Bacon ; the theologians, of 
 whom there were hundreds ; the satirists, as Bishop Hall and 
 Marston ; the writers of what we should call light literature — 
 Greene, Nash, Peele, and Dekker. And there were translations, 
 as from the Italian, Boccaccio, Ariosto, Biondello, Tasso, and 
 others ; from the French, Froissart, Montaigne, Plutarch 
 (Amyot), the 'Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles ' (in the 'Hundred 
 Merry Tales '), and the stories of the ' Forest ' and the ' Palace 
 of Pleasure.' And there were all the dramatists. Never before 
 or since has the country been better supplied with new literature 
 and good books. 
 
 Remember, again, everything was new. All the books were 
 new ; the printing-press was new ; you could almost count the 
 volumes that had been issued. It was reckoned a great thing 
 for Dr. Dee to have three thousand printed books. Every 
 scholar found a classic which had not been translated, and took 
 him in hand. Every traveller brought home some modern 
 writer, chiefly Italian, previously unknown. Every sailor 
 brought home the record of a voyage to unknown seas and to 
 
TUDOR 187 
 
 unknown shores. It was a time when the world had become 
 suddenly conscious of a vast, an inconceivable widening, the 
 results of which could not yet be foretold. But the knowledge 
 filled men with such hopes as had never before been experienced. 
 Scholars and poets, merchants and sailors, rovers and adven- 
 turers, all alike were moved by the passion and ecstasy of the 
 time. Strange time ! Wonderful time ! We who read the 
 history of that time too often confine our attention to the 
 political history. We are able, with the help of Froude, quite 
 clearly to understand the perplexities and troubles of the 
 Maiden Queen ; we see her, in her anxiety, playing off Spaniard 
 against Frenchman, to avoid destruction should they act to- 
 gether. But the people know and suspect none of these things. 
 State affairs are too high for them. They only see the bright- 
 ness of the sky and the promise of the day ; they only feel the 
 quickening influence of the spring ; their blood is fired ; they 
 have got new hopes, a new faith, new openings, new learning. 
 And they bear themselves accordingly. That is to say, with 
 extravagances innumerable, with confidence and courage lofty, 
 unexampled. Why, it fires the blood of this degenerate time 
 only to think of the mighty enlargement of that time. When 
 one considers when they lived and what they talked, one under- 
 stands Kit Marlowe and Robert Greene, and that wild company 
 of scholars and poets ; they would cram into whatever narrow 
 span of life was granted them all — all — all — that life can give 
 of learning and poetry, and feasting and love and joy. They 
 were intoxicated with the ideas of their time. They were 
 weighed down with the sheaves — the golden harvest of that 
 wondrous reaping. Who would not live in such a time ? The 
 little world had become, almost suddenly, very large, inconceiv- 
 ably large. The boys of London, playing about the river stairs 
 and the quays, listened to the talk of men who had sailed along 
 those newly discovered coasts of the new great world, and had 
 seen strange monsters and wild people. In the taverns men — 
 bearded, bronzed, scarred — grave men, with deep eyes and low 
 voice, who had sailed to the Guinea coast, round the Cape to 
 Hindostan, across the Spanish Main, over the ocean to Virginia, 
 sat in the tavern and told to youths with flushed cheeks and 
 panting, eager breath quger tales of danger and escape between 
 their cups of sack. We were not yet advanced beyond believ- 
 ing in the Ethiopian with four eyes, the Arimaspi with one eye, 
 
i88 LONDON 
 
 the Plippopodes or Centaurs, the Monopoh*, or men who have 
 no head, but carry their faces in their breasts and their eyes in 
 their shoulders. None of these monsters, it is true, had ever 
 been caught and brought home ; but many an honest fellow, if 
 hard pressed by his hearers, would reluctantly confess to having 
 seen them. On the other hand, negroes and red Indians were 
 frequently brought home and exhibited. And there were croco- 
 diles, alive or stuffed ; crocodiles' skins, the skins of bears and 
 lions, monkeys, parrots, flying fish dried, and other curious 
 things. And there were always the legends — that of the land of 
 gold, the Eldorado ; that of the kingdom of Prester John ; that of 
 St. Brandan's Island ; and, but this was later, the theory — proved 
 with mathematical certainty— of the great soiJ^^:^'" continent. 
 Enough, and more than enough, to inflame the imagination of 
 adventurers, to drive the lads aboard ship, to make them long for 
 the sails to be spread and to be making their way anywhere — 
 anywhere — in se|f ch of adventure, conquest, glory, and gold. 
 
 Such an enlargement, such hopes, can never again return 
 to the world. That is impossible, save on one chance. We 
 cannot make the world any wider ; by this time we know it 
 nearly all ; the pristine mystery — the awfulness of the unknown 
 — has well-nigh gone out of every land, even New Guinea and 
 Central Africa. Yet there is this one chance. Science may 
 and will widen the world — for hS own disciples — in many new 
 and unexpected ways. The sluggish imagination of the majority 
 is little touched even by such marvels as the electric telegraph, 
 the phonograph, the telephone. For them science in any form 
 cannot enlarge their boundaries. Suppose, ho\yever, a thing to 
 be achieved which should go right home to the comprehension, 
 brain, and heart of every living man. Suppose that science 
 should prevent, conquer, and annihilate disease. Suppose our 
 span of life enlarged to two hundred, three hundred, five 
 hundred, years, and that suddenly. Think of the wild exal- 
 tations, the extravagances, the prodigalities, the omnivorous 
 attempts of the scholar, the universal grasp of the physicist, the 
 amazing and audacious experiments of chemist, electrician, bio- 
 logist, and the long reach of the statesman ! Think of these 
 things, I say, and remember that in the age of Elizabeth, of 
 Raleigh, Drake, Marlowe, Nash, Greene, Shakespeare, Ben 
 Jonson, Spenser, Bacon, and the rest, similar causes produced 
 similar effects. 
 
TUDOR 
 
 189 
 
 We have seen the development of the mediaeval house from 
 the simple common hall. The Elizabethan house shows an 
 immense advance in architecture. I believe that the noblest 
 
 BURGH LEY h6uSE 
 
 specimen now remaining is Burghley House in Northampton- 
 shire, built by Cecil, Lor€l Burghley and first Earl of Exeter. 
 The house is built about a square court The west front has a 
 
190 
 
 LONDON 
 
 lofty square tower. Let us, with Burghley House before us, 
 read what Bacon directs as to building. The front, he says, 
 must have a tower, with a wing on either side. That on the 
 right was to consist of nothing but a ' goodly room of some forty 
 feet high ' — he does not give the length — ' and under it a room 
 for dressing or preparing place at times of triumphs.' By 
 triumphs he means pageants, mummings, and masques. * On 
 the other side, which is the household side, I wish it divided at 
 the first into a hall and a chapel (with a partition between), both 
 of good state and bigness. And these not to go all the length, 
 
 M^^M^^m^-jM^ 
 
 
 ILFORD ALMSHOUSES 
 
 but to have at the further end a winter and a summer parlour, 
 both fair.' Here are to be the cellars, kitchens, butteries, and 
 pantries. * Beyond this front is to be a fair court, but three 
 sides of it of a far lower building than the front. And in all the 
 four corners of the court fair staircases, cast into turrets on the 
 outside, and not within the row of buildings themselves. . . . 
 Let the court not be paved, for that striketh up a great heat in 
 summer and much cold in winter. But only some side alleys 
 with a cross, and the quarters to graze being kept shorn, but not 
 too near shorn.' Stately galleries w^ith coloured windows are to 
 run along the banquet side ; on the household side, * chambers 
 of presence and ordinary entertainments, with bedchambers.' 
 
TUDOR 191 
 
 Beyond this court is to be a second of the same square, with a 
 garden and a cloister. Other directions he gives which, if they 
 were carried out, would make a very fine house indeed. But 
 these we may pass over. In short, Bacon's idea of a good house 
 was much like a college. That of Clare, Cambridge, for instance, 
 would have been considered by Bacon as a very good house 
 indeed, though the arrangement of the banqueting-room was 
 not exactly as the philosopher would have it. The College of 
 Christ's in its old form, with the garden square beyond, was 
 still more after the manner recommended by Bacon. 
 
 
 * >'/. 
 
 OLD TAVERN 
 
 It will be seen that we are now a good way removed from 
 the Saxon Hall with the people sleeping on the floor, yet Bacon's 
 house lineally descends from that beginning. All the old 
 houses in London were built in this way, as may be illustrated 
 by many which retain the old form, as well as by those which 
 remain. Hampton Court, for instance, built by Wolsey ; 
 Northumberland House, recently taken down ; Gresham House, 
 taken down a hundred years ago ; Somerset House, still 
 standing, though much altered ; the old Navy Office, the court 
 of which still remains; some of the old almshouses, notably 
 Trinity Almshouse, in the Whitechapel Road ; Emanuel, West- 
 minster ; and the Norfolk Hospital, Greenwich, Gray's Inn, 
 Clifford's Inn, Staple Inn, Barnard's Inn — which contains the 
 «ldest house in London— «re admirable specimens of Bacon's 
 house ; while in the old taverns, of which a few imperfect 
 
192 
 
 LONDON 
 
 specimens still exist, we have the galleries which Bacon wouW 
 construct within his court. 
 
 In the reign of Elizabeth, while the merchants were growing 
 
 FRONT OF SIR PAUL PINDER's HOUSE, ON THE WEST SIDE OF 
 BISHOPSGATE STREET WITHOUT 
 
 richer and increasing in number and in wealth, the great nobles 
 were gradually leaving the city. Those who remained kept up 
 but a remnant of their former splendour. Elizabeth refused 
 
TUDOR 193 
 
 license for the immense number of retainers formerly allowed ; 
 she would suffer a hundred at the most. It was a time rather 
 for the rise of new families than the continued greatness of the 
 old. The nobles, as they went away, sold their London houses 
 to the citizens. Thus Winchester House and Crosby Hall went 
 to merchants ; Derby House to the College of Heralds ; Cold 
 Harbour was pulled down in 1 590, and its site built over with 
 tenements ; the Duke of Norfolk's House, on the site of Holy 
 Trinity Priory, was shortly after destroyed, and the place assigned 
 to the newly arrived colony of Jews. Barnard's Castle alone 
 among the city palaces remained in the possession of a great 
 noble until the fire came and swept it away. 
 
 Great beyond all precedent was the advance of trade in this 
 golden age. Elizabeth was wise and wisely advised in the treat- 
 ment of the city and the merchants. Perhaps she followed the 
 example of King Edward the Fourth. Perhaps she remembered 
 (but this I doubt) that she belonged to the city by her mother's 
 side, for her great-grandfather. Sir Geoffrey Boleyn, had been Lord 
 Mayor a hundred years before her accession. But the rapid 
 growth of London trade seems to me chiefly due to the wisdom 
 of one man — Sir Thomas Gresham. 
 
 This great man, even more than Whittington, is the typical 
 London merchant. Not a self-made man at all, but coming of 
 a good old country stock — always a master, always of the class 
 which commands. Nearly all the great London, merchants have, 
 as has already been stated, belonged to that class. His family 
 came originally from Gresham, in Norfolk ; his father. Sir 
 Richard, Vv^as Lord Mayor ; his uncle. Sir John, also Lord Mayor, 
 saved Bethlehem Hospital at the dissolution of the religious 
 houses. Not a poor and friendless lad, by any means ; from the 
 outset he had every advantage that wealth and station can 
 afford. He was educated at Gonville (afterwards Gonville and 
 Caius) College, Cambridge. It was not until he had taken his 
 degree that he was apprenticed to his uncle, and he was past 
 twenty-four when he was received into the Mercers' Company. 
 
 When he was thirty-two years of age a thing happened to 
 Thomas Gresham which proved to be the most fortunate chance 
 that ever came to the city of London. He was appointed 
 Royal Agent at Antwerp. The King's loans were at that time 
 always offered at Antwerp or Bruges, and were taken up by 
 merchants of the Low Countries at the enormous interest of 
 
194 LONDON 
 
 14 per cent. Sometimes a part of the advance had to take the 
 form of jewels. At this time the annual interest on the debt 
 amounted to 40,000/. ; and while the exchange was sixteen 
 Flemish shillings to the pound sterling, the agent had to pay in 
 English money. The post, therefore, was not an easy one 
 to fill. 
 
 Gresham, however, reduced the interest from 14 per cent, to 
 12, or even 10 per cent. He suppressed the jewels, and took the 
 whole of the loan in money ; and he continued to enjoy the 
 confidence of Edward's ministers, of Queen Mary, and of Queen 
 Elizabeth. In order to effect this, he must have been a most 
 able and honest servant, or else a most supple courtier. He 
 was the former. Now, had he done nothing more than played 
 the part of Royal Agent better than any one who went before 
 him, he might have been as much forgotten as his predecessors. 
 But he did much more. The City owes to Gresham a debt of 
 gratitude impossible to be repaid. This is a foolish sentence, 
 because gratitude can never be repaid. You may always enter- 
 tain and nourish gratitude, and you can do service in return, but 
 gratitude remains. A great service once received is a possession 
 for ever, and generally a fruitful and growing possession. 
 
 When Queen Elizabeth ascended the throne, the commercial 
 centre of the world was Antwerp ; when she died, the commer- 
 cial centre of the world was London. This transfer had been 
 effected by the wisdom and foresight of one man taking advan- 
 tage of the times and their chances. The religious wars of the 
 Netherlands brought immense losses to Antwerp. These losses 
 Gresham desired to make London's gains. But he was met with 
 the initial difficulty that the merchants of London had not yet 
 learned to act together. They had, it is true, the old trading 
 company of merchant adventurers, but that stood alone ; besides, 
 its ambitions were modest. They had no experience in union ; 
 there was no central institution which should be the city's brain, 
 the place where the merchants could meet and receive news and 
 consult together. Now, at Antwerp, there was a goodly Bourse. 
 What if London could also have its Bourse ? 
 
 Well, Gresham built a Bourse ; he give it to the city ; he 
 formed this place of meeting for the merchants ; the Queen 
 opened it, and called it the Royal Exchange. The possession 
 of the Exchange was followed immediately by such a develop- 
 ment of enterprise as had been unknown before in the history of 
 
TUDOR 
 
 195 
 
 the city. Next he persuaded the citizens to take up the Queen's 
 loans themselves, so that the interest, at 12 per cent., should 
 remain in the country. He showed his own people how to take 
 advantage of Antwerp's disasters and to divert her trade to the 
 port of London. As for his Bourse, it stood on the site of the 
 present Royal Exchange, but the front was south in Cornhill. 
 The west front was blocked up by houses. The building was of 
 brick and mortar, three storeys high, with dormer windows in 
 the high pitched roof At every corner was a pinnacle sur- 
 mounted by a grasshopper — the Gresham crest. On the south 
 
 THE ROYAL EXCHANGE, CORNHILL 
 
 side rose a lofty tower with a bell, which called the merchants 
 together at noon in the morning and at six in the evening. 
 Within was an open court surrounded by covered walks, adorned 
 with statues of kings, behind which were shops rented by 
 milliners, haberdashers, and sellers of trifles. This was the 
 lower pawne. Above, in the upper pawne, there were armourers, 
 apothecaries, booksellers, goldsmiths, and glass-sellers. The 
 Bourse was opened by Queen Elizabeth on January 23, 1571. 
 She changed its name from the Bourse to the Royal Exchange. 
 When it was destroyed in the fire of 1666, it was observed that 
 all the statues were dcstftyed, except that of Gresham him- 
 self 
 
 02 
 
196 
 
 LONDON 
 
 To illustrate this increase in English trade, we have these 
 facts : In the reign of Edward VI., a time of great decay, there 
 were few Merchant Adventurers and hardly any English ships. 
 When Elizabeth began to reign there were no more than 317 
 merchants in all, of whom the Company of Mercers formed 
 ninety-nine. Before her reign it was next to impossible for the 
 city to raise a loan of 10,000/. Before she died the city was 
 advancing to the Queen loans of 60,000/. Before her reign the 
 only foreign trade was a venture or two into Russia ; everything 
 came across from Antwerp and Sluys. During her reign the 
 
 THE STEEL YARD, ETC., THAMES STREET, AFTER THE GREAT FIRE OF 1666 
 
 foreign trade was developed in an amazing manner. New com- 
 modities were exported, as beer and sea coal, a great many new 
 things were introduced — new trades, new luxuries. For instance, 
 apricots, turkeys, hops, tobacco were brought over and planted 
 and naturalised. Fans, ladies' wigs, fine knives, pins, needles, 
 earthen fire-pots, silk and crystal buttons, shoe-buckles, glass- 
 making, nails, paper, were made in this country for the first 
 
TUDOR 197 
 
 time. The Merchant Adventurers, who had been incorporated 
 under Edward I., obtained fresh rights and larger powers ; they 
 obtained the aboHtion of the privileges enjoyed for three hun- 
 dred years by the Hanseatic merchant ; they established courts 
 at Antwerp, Dordrecht, and Hamburg ; they had houses at 
 York, Hull, and Newcastle. Further, when we read that they 
 exported wine, oil, silks, and fruits, in addition to the products 
 of the country, it is clear that they had already obtained some 
 of the carrying trade of the world. Of the trading companies 
 founded under Elizabeth and her successors, only one now sur- 
 vives. Yet the whole trade of this country was created by these 
 companies. 
 
 Who, for instance, now remembers the Eastland Company, 
 or Merchants of Elbing ? Yet they had a long existence as a 
 company ; and long after their commercial life was gone they 
 used to elect their officers every year, and hold a feast. Perhaps 
 they do still. Their trade was with the Baltic. Or the Russian 
 Company ? That sprang out of a company called the * Mer- 
 chant Adventurers for the Discovery of Lands not before known 
 to or frequented by the English.' 
 
 This company sent out Sir Hugh Willoughby, with three 
 ships, to find a north-east passage to China. But Sir Hugh was 
 forced to put in at a port in Russian Lapland, where he and all 
 his men were frozen to death. The Russian Company became 
 whalers, and quarrelled with the Dutch over the fishing. It had 
 a checkered career, and finally died, but, like the Eastland Com- 
 pany, it continued to elect officers and to dine together long 
 after its work was over. Or the Turkey Company, which lasted 
 from 1586 to 1825, when it dissolved? Or the Royal African 
 Company, which lived from 1530 to 1821? There were, also, 
 the Merchants of Spain ; the French Merchants ; the Merchants 
 of Virginia ; the East India Company, the greatest and most 
 powerful of any trading company ever formed ; the Hudson 
 Bay Company, which still exists ; the South Sea Company ; the 
 Guinea Company ; the Canary Company. Some of these 
 belong to a later period, but they speak of the spirit of the 
 enterprise and adventure first awakened under Elizabeth. 
 
 In the Church of St. Martin Outwich, now pulled down, was 
 ^ monument to the chief agtor in the promotion of these trading 
 companies. ' Here,' said the tombstone, * resteth the body of 
 the worshipful Mr. Richard Staple, elected Alderman of this 
 
198 LONDON 
 
 city, 1584. He was the greatest Merchant in his time; the 
 chiefest Actor in the Discovery of the Trade of Turkey and 
 East India ; a man humble in prosperity, painful and ever ready 
 in affairs public, and discreetly careful of his private. A liberal 
 housekeeper, bountiful to the Poor, an upright dealer in the 
 world, and a devout inquirer after the world to come. . , . 
 Intravit ut exiret' 
 
 The increase of trade had another side. It was accompanied 
 by protection, with the usual results. ' In the old days,' says 
 Harrison, ' when strange bottoms were suffered to come in, we 
 had sugar for fourpence the pound that now is worth half a 
 crown ; raisins and currants for a pennie that now are holden at 
 sixpence, and sometimes at eightpence and tenpence, the pound ; 
 nutmegs at twopence halfpenny the ounce ; ginger at a pennie 
 the ounce ; prunes at a halfpenny farthing ; great raisins, three 
 pounds for a pennie ; cinnamon at fourpence the ounce ; cloves 
 at twopence ; and pepper at twelve or sixteen pence the pound.' 
 He does not state the increase in price of the latter articles, but 
 if we are to judge by that of sugar, the increase of trade was not 
 an unmixed blessing to those whose incomes had not advanced 
 with equal step. 
 
 The city associated the new prosperity with their Maiden 
 Queen, for whom their love and loyalty never abated in the least. 
 When she asked them for a certain number of ships they sent 
 double the number, fully manned and provided ; when the 
 Queen's enemy, Mary of Scotland, was beheaded, they rang 
 their bells and made bonfires ; while the Queen was living they 
 thanked God solemnly for her long reign ; when she died their 
 lamentations were loud and sincere ; her monument, until the 
 fire, adorned many of the city churches. One of the Elizabeth 
 statues yet remains outside the Church of St. Dunstan's, Fleet 
 Street. It is the statue which formerly stood on the west side 
 of Lud Gate. 
 
 To return to Gresham. He not only gave the city a Bourse, 
 but he also endowed it with a college, which should have been a 
 rival of Trinity or Christ Church but for the mismanagement 
 which reduced it for a long time to the level of a lecture insti- 
 tute. The idea of the founder will, no doubt, be revived some 
 time or other, and Gresham College will become a place ot 
 learning worthy of the city. 
 
 The career of Sir Thomas Gresham strangely resembles that 
 
TUDOR 
 
 199 
 
 of Whittington. Both were favourites with successive sove- 
 reigns. If Gresham built an Exchange, Whittington, by his 
 will, added to Guildhall ; if Gresham founded a college for the 
 London youth, Whittington founded a college for priests, and 
 an almshouse ; if Gresham restored the finances of his sovereign, 
 Whittington gave back to his the bonds of all his debts. Both 
 were mercers ; both merchant adventurers ; both kept a shop ; 
 both were of good descent 
 
 COLLEGII GRESHAMENSIS A LATERE OCCIDENTALI PROSPECTUS, A.D. I739 
 
 Gresham's shop was in Lombard Street, at the Sign of the 
 Grasshopper, his family crest. His shop contained gold and 
 silver vessels ; coins, ancient and modern ; gold chains, gold 
 and silver lace, rings and jewels. He lent money, as most 
 bankers do, on security, but he got ten and twelve per cent, for 
 it. He had correspondents abroad, and he gave travellers 
 letters of credit ; he bought foreign coin either to exchange or 
 to melt down. And he lived in his own house, over his shop, 
 until he was knighted, when he built a new house between 
 Bishopsgate Street and Broad Street. Stow calls it * the most 
 spacious of all thereabout ; builded of brick and timber.' This 
 house became afterwards Gresham College. 
 
 Again, this was a great age for the foundation of grammar 
 schools. The education of London in the Middle Ages is a 
 
200 LONDON 
 
 subject which has never yet been adequately treated. We 
 know very well what was taught at the universities. But what 
 did the merchant learn, the shopkeeper, the craftsman ? To 
 what school was the boy sent before he was apprenticed ? 
 There was a school, it is said, to every religious house. I think 
 that latterly the monastic school was kept up with about as 
 much sincerity as the monastic rule of poverty. Stow certainly 
 says that when Henry V. dissolved the alien priories, their 
 schools perished as well. On the other hand, consider the great 
 number of religious houses in and around London. There 
 should have been schools enough for the whole population. 
 Yet Henry VI. founded four grammar schools 'besides St. 
 Paul's,' viz., at St. Martin s le Grand, St. Mary le Bow, St. 
 Dunstan's in the West, and St. Anthony's. Why did he do this 
 if there were already plenty of schools? And observe that one 
 of his foundations was at a religious house — St. Martin's. The 
 year after he created four more schools — at St. Andrew's 
 (Holborn), All Hallows the Great, St. Peter's (Cornhill), and 
 St. Thomas of Aeon. All these schools perished in the Refor- 
 mation, with the exception of St. Paul's and St. Anthony's. 
 Why they perished, unless they were endowed with property 
 belonging to some monastic house, is not clear. 
 
 For a time the city had no schools, no hospitals, no founda- 
 tions for the poor, the sick, or the aged. These grievous losses 
 were speedily amended. St. Paul's was presently newly founded 
 by Dean Colet. The Blue- Coat School arose on the ruins of 
 the Grey Friars. The Mercers' Company continued the School 
 of St. Thomas as their own, and it still exists. The Merchant 
 Taylors founded their school, which is now at the Charterhouse. 
 At St. Olave's and St. Saviour's schools were established. A 
 few years later was founded the Charterhouse School, which is 
 now removed to Godalming. 
 
 In these narrow limits it is impossible to reproduce much of 
 the Elizabethan daily life. Here, however, are certain details. 
 
 The ordering of the household was strict. Servants and 
 apprentices were up at six in the summer and at seven in the 
 winter. No one on any pretence, except that of illness, was to 
 absent himself from morning and evening prayers ; there was 
 to be no striking, no profane language. Sunday was clean- 
 shirt day. Dinner was at eleven, supper at six. There was no 
 public or private office which was not provided with a Bible. 
 
TUDOR 
 
 »oi 
 
 In the better classes there was a general enthusiasm for learn- 
 ing of all kinds. The ladies, imitating the example of the 
 Queen, practised embroidery, wrote beautifully, played curious 
 instruments, knew how to sing in parts, dressed with as much 
 magnificence as they could afford, danced corantoes and lavoltas 
 as well as the simple hey, and studied languages — Latin, Greek, 
 and Italian. The last was the favourite language. Many 
 collected books. Dr. John Dee had as many as four thousand, 
 of which one thousand were manuscripts. They were arranged 
 on the shelves with the leaves turned outwards, not the backs. 
 This was to show the gilding, the gold clasps, and the silken 
 strings. The books were bound with great care and cost ; every- 
 body knows the beauty of the type 
 used in the printing. 
 
 Tournaments were maintained un- 
 til the end of Elizabeth's reign. But 
 we hear little of them, and it is not 
 likely that they retained much of 
 their old popularity. One Sir Henry 
 Lee entered the tiltyard every year 
 until age prevented him. They always 
 kept up the sport of tilting at the 
 Quintain in the water. But their 
 favourite amusements were the page- 
 ant and the play. The pageant came 
 before the play ; and while the latter 
 was performed on a rough scaffold in 
 an inn-yard, the former was provided 
 with splendid dresses, music, songs, 
 
 and properties of every kind. There were pageants for the 
 reception of the King when he made a procession into the city ; 
 there were court pageants ; there were private pageants in great 
 men's houses ; there were pageants got up by companies. The 
 reception pageants, for instance, are very well illustrated by 
 that invented for Queen Elizabeth on her visit to the city in 
 the year 1558. 
 
 It was in January, but I think people felt cold weather 
 less in those days. The Queen came by water, attended by 
 the city barges, . which were trimmed with targets and ban- 
 ners of their mysteries, from Westminster to the Tower 
 where she lay for two days. She then rode through the city 
 
 CURIOUS PUMP 
 
202 LONDON 
 
 starting at two in the afternoon, when everybody had had 
 dinner. 
 
 In Fenchurch Street there was a scaffold, where was a band 
 of music, and a child who presented the Queen with a poetical 
 address. 
 
 At the upper end of Gracechurch Street a noble arch had 
 been erected, with a triple stage. On the lowest stood two 
 children, representing Henry VII. and Elizabeth of York ; on 
 the second, two more, for Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn ; and 
 on the third, Queen Elizabeth herself. Music and a poetical 
 address. 
 
 At Cornhill there was another pageant, representing the 
 Queen placed on a seat supported by four figures, viz., Religion, 
 Wisdom, Justice, and Love, each of which was treading under 
 foot the opposite vice. Music and a poetical address. 
 
 At the entrance of Cheapside a third pageant represented 
 the eight beatitudes. 
 
 At the Conduit a fourth pageant displayed two mountains ; 
 one, ragged and stony, with a withered tree, under which sat 
 one in homely garb ; over her head was a tablet with the legend, 
 ' Respublica ruinosa.' The other hill was fair and green, with a 
 flourishing tree, and the words, ' Respublica bene instituta.' 
 Between the hills was a cave, out of which issued Time, with 
 his wings, scythe, and forelock quite complete, leading a maiden 
 in white silk, on whose head was written Teniporis Fzlia, and on 
 her breast, Veritas. This fair damsel held a Bible in her hand, 
 which she let down by a silken thread to the Queen. 
 
 At the Conduit in Fleet Street they had erected a stage 
 with four towers, on which was a throne under a palm-tree. On 
 the throne sat Deborah, * Judge and Restorer of the House of 
 Israel.' On the steps of the throne stood six personages, two of 
 them representing the nobility, two the clergy, and two the 
 commons. At Temple Bar they had two giants, Gogmagog and 
 Albion, and Corineus, the Briton. On the south side was a 
 * noise ' of singing children, one of whom, attired as a poet, bade 
 the Queen farewell in the name of the city. 
 
 The court pageants may be understood by reading the 
 masques of Ben Jonson. Everything costly, splendid, and 
 precious was lavished upon these shows. Everything that ma- 
 chinery could contrive was devised for them. Ben Jonson him- 
 self, speaking of the performance of his * Hymenaea,' says : 
 
TUDOR 203 
 
 *Such was the exquisite performance, as, besides the pomp, 
 splendour, or what we may call apparelling of such present- 
 ments, that alone, had all else been absent, was of power to 
 surprise with delight, and steal away the spectators from them- 
 selves. Nor was there wanting whatsoever might give to the 
 furniture or complement, either in riches, or strangeness of the 
 habits, delicacy of dances, magnificence of the scene, or divine 
 rapture of musick. Only the envy was that it lasted not still* 
 
 It was not until 1570 that the first theatre was built. The 
 popularity of the play had already begun to grow with amazing 
 rapidity. In twenty years there were five theatres, with per- 
 formances every day. The Queen had four companies of 
 children trained to perform, viz., the children of St. Paul's, the 
 children of the chapel, the children of Westminster, and the 
 children of Windsor. The public actors, too, were often called 
 upon to perform before the Queen. 
 
 These companies were : Lord Leicester's company, Sir 
 Robert Lane's, Lord Clinton's, Lord Warwick's, the Lord 
 Chamberlain's, the Earl of Sussex's, Lord Howard's, the Earl 
 of Essex's, Lord Strange's, the Earl of Derby's, the Lord Admi- 
 ral's, the Earl of Hertford's, and Lord Pembroke's. It is not 
 supposed that all these companies existed at the same time ; 
 but the list shows how company after company was begun and 
 maintained on the credit of some great lord. 
 
 The theatres at the end of the sixteenth century were seven 
 in number — the Globe, at Bankside ; the Red Bull, in St. John 
 Street ; the Curtain, in Shoreditch ; the Fortune, in Whitecross 
 Street. These four were public theatres. The other three were 
 called private houses — the Blackfriars, the Whitefriars, and the 
 Cockpit or Phoenix Theatre. In the next chapter we shall 
 assist at a matinee of one of Shakespeare's plays. 
 
 But the people lost no opportunity of * making up,' acting, 
 and dancing. The pageant became more and more a play. 
 There were pageants of more or less splendour — we all know 
 the great pageants of Kenilworth — held in every great man's 
 house, in every company's hall, and in private persons' houses, 
 to mark every possible occasion. Thus in the year 1562, on 
 July 20, took place the marriage of one Coke, citizen (but of 
 what company I know not) — was he a cousin of Edward Coke, 
 afterwards Speaker ? — with the daughter of Mr. Nicolls, master 
 of London Bridge. My Lord Mayor and all the Aldermen, 
 
204 LONDON 
 
 with many ladies and other worshipful men and women, 
 were present at the wedding. Mr. Bacon, an eminent divine, 
 preached the wedding sermon. After the discourse the com- 
 pany went home to the Bridge House to dinner, where was as 
 good cheer as ever was known — Stow says so, and he knew very 
 well — with all manner of music and dancing, and at night a 
 masque till midnight. But this was only half the feast, for next 
 day the wedding was again kept at the Bridge House with great 
 cheer. After supper more mumming, after that more masques. 
 One was in cloth of gold, the next consisted of friars, and the 
 third of nuns. First the friars and the nuns danced separately, 
 one company after the other, and then they danced together. 
 Considering that it was only two years since the friars and the 
 nuns had been finally suppressed, there must have been a certain 
 piquancy in this dance. It is always, at such times, put on the 
 stage. One of the first things, for instance, done in Madrid 
 when Spain got her short-lived republic was that in every cafe 
 ckantant they put a friar and a nun on the stage to dance and 
 sing together. 
 
 They still kept the saint's day of their company ; in fact, 
 when the old faith was suppressed the people willingly endured 
 a change of doctrine so long as they were not called upon to 
 give up their feasting, which was exactly what had happened in 
 Italy and elsewhere when the people were induced or forced to 
 become Christians. They made no objection to doctrine, pro- 
 vided their practice was not interfered with. Therefore the 
 Protestant citizens kept up their Whitsun ales, their wakes, their 
 Easter and Christmas feastings. All the saints' days which 
 brought something better than ordinary to eat, with morris 
 dances. May poles, bonfires, music, and the Feasts of Misrule 
 were religiously conserved. As to the Feast of Misrule, hear 
 the testimony of the contemporary moralist : — 
 
 * Thus all things set in order, then have they their hobby- 
 horses, their dragons and other antiques, together with their 
 pipers and thundering drummers to strike up the Devil's Dance. 
 Thus march this merry company towards the church and church- 
 yard, their pipers piping, their drummers thundering, their 
 stumpes dancing, their bells jingling, their handkerchiefs flut- 
 tering about their heads like madmen, their hobby-horses and 
 other monsters skirmishing amongst the throng, and in this sort 
 they go to the church like devils incarnate, with such a confused 
 
TUDOR 205 
 
 noise that no man can hear his own voice. Then the foolish 
 people— they look, they stare, they laugh, they cheer, they 
 mount upon forms and pews to see the goodly pageants solem- 
 nized in this sort. Then, after this, about the church they go 
 again and again, and so forth into the churchyard where they 
 have commonly their summer halls, their bowers, arbours, and 
 banquetting houses set up wherein they feast, banquet, and 
 dance all that day and peradventure all that night too.' 
 
 To keep a troop of servants has always been a mark of state. 
 Ladies used to beat their servants— following the example of 
 the Queen, who sometimes boxed the ears of her courtiers. 
 Everybody of position travelled, and nearly everybody went to 
 Italy, with results disastrous to religion and to morals. One of 
 the worst figures in the Elizabethan gallery is the Englishman 
 Italianized. Of course on his return the traveller gave himself 
 strange airs. How they travelled and what they saw may be 
 read in that most charming book, the ' Epistolse Hoellianae.' 
 
 Card-playing and gaming were the commonest form of 
 amusement. The games were primero^ which Falstaff fore- 
 swore, trump, gleek^ gresco^ new cut, knave out of doors, ruff, 
 noddy, post and pace — all of these games corresponding, no 
 doubt, to those still played. 
 
 Another favourite amusement was dancing in all its various 
 forms, from the stately court dance, to the merry circle on the 
 village green. The principal dances were the solemn pavane^ the 
 braiul, the Passamezzo galliard, the Canary dance, the corantOy 
 the lavolta, the j'tg, the ga//zardy the fancy, and the /ley. 
 
 Gentlemen were followed in the streets by their servants, 
 who carried their master's sword. Their dress was blue, with 
 the master's badge in silver on the left arm. 
 
 The pages of Stow, Harrison, Hall, Greene, and Nash con- 
 tain not only glimpses, but also set pictures of the time, from 
 which extracts by the hundred might be made. There are the 
 awful examples, for instance, of Sir John Champneys, Alderman 
 and Lord Mayor, and Richard Wethell, citizen and tailor. Both 
 these persons built high towers to their houses to show their 
 pride and to look down upon their neighbours — one is reminded 
 of the huge leaning towers in Bologna. What happened .? The 
 first went blind, so that though he might climb his tower he 
 could sec nothing. Th? second was afflicted with gout in hands 
 and feet, so that he could not walk, much less climb his tower. 
 
2o6 LONDON 
 
 Stubbes has other instances of judgments, particularly the 
 terrible fate of the girl who invoked the devil to help her with 
 her ruff. 
 
 Here is a curious little story. It happened in the reign of 
 King James. One day in Bishopsgate Ward, a poor man 
 named Richard Atkinson, going to remove a heap of sea-coal 
 ashes in his wheelbarrow, discovered lying in the ashes the 
 body of a newly-born child. It was still breathing, and he 
 carried it to his wife, who washed and fed it and restored it to 
 life. The child was a goodly and well-formed boy, strong -and 
 well-featured, without blemish or harm upon it. They christened 
 the child at St. Helen's Church, by a name which should cause 
 him to remember, all through his life, his very remarkable 
 origin. They called him, in fact, Job Cinere Extractus, a noble 
 name, for the sake of which alone he should have lived. What 
 an ancestor to have had ! How delightful to be a Cinere Ex- 
 tractus — who would not wish to belong to such a family? — and 
 to point to the ash heap as the origin of the first Cinere Ex- 
 tractus ! Nothing like it in history since the creation of Adam 
 himself What a coat of arms 1 A shield azure, an ash heap 
 proper, with supporters of two dustmen with shovels ; crest a 
 sieve; motto, like that of the Courtenays— ' from what heights 
 descended ? ' But alas ! poor little Job Cinere Extractus died 
 three days afterwards, and now lies buried in St. Helen's 
 churchyard without even a monument. 
 
 Another baby story — but this belongs to Charles I.'s time — 
 it happened, in fact, in the last month of that melancholy reign. 
 It was seven o'clock in the evening. A certain ship-chandler 
 became suddenly so foolish as to busy himself over a barrel of 
 gunpowder with a candle. Naturally a spark fell into the 
 barrel, and he was not even left time enough to express his 
 regrets. Fifty houses were wrecked. How many were killed 
 no one could tell, but at the next house but one, the Rose 
 Tavern, there was a great company holding the parish dinner, 
 and they all perished. Next morning, however, there was 
 found on the leads of All Hallows Barking a young child in a 
 cradle as newly laid in bed, neither child nor cradle having 
 sustained the least harm. It was never known who the child 
 was, but she was adopted by a gentleman of the parish, and 
 lived certainly to the age of seventeen, when the historian saw 
 her going to call her master who was drinking at a tavern. It 
 
TUDOR 207 
 
 IS two hundred and fifty years ago. That young woman may 
 have at this moment over a thousand descendants at least. 
 Who would not like to boast that she was his great-grand- 
 mother ? 
 
 A reform of vast importance, though at first it seems a 
 small thing, was introduced in this reign. It was the restora- 
 tion of vegetables and roots as part of daily diet. Harrison is 
 my authority. He says that in old days— as in the time of the 
 First Edward — herbs, fruits, and roots were much used, but 
 that' from Henry IV. to Henry VIII. the use of them decayed 
 and was forgotten. ' Now,' he says, ' in my time their use is 
 not only resumed among the poore commons — I mean of 
 melons, pompines, gourds, cucumbers, radishes, skirrets, pars- 
 neps, carrots, marrowes, turnips, and all kinds of salad herbes — 
 but they are also looked upon as deintie dishes at the tables of 
 delicate merchants, gentlemen, and the nobilitie, who make 
 their provision yearly for new seeds out of strange countries 
 from whence they have them abundantly.* 
 
 Perhaps the cause of the disuse of roots and vegetables was 
 the enormous rise in wages after the Black Death, when the 
 working classes, becoming suddenly rich, naturally associated 
 roots with scarcity of beef, and governed themselves accord- 
 ingly. 
 
 The use of tobacco spread as rapidly, when once it was 
 introduced, as that of coffee later on. King James speaks of 
 those who spend as much as three hundred pounds a year upon 
 this noxious weed. Those who took tobacco attributed to it all 
 the virtues possible for any plant to possess, and more. 
 
 It was the custom of the better sort of citizens to have 
 gardens outside the city, each with its own garden house, in 
 some cases a mere arbour, but in others a house for residence 
 in the summer months. Moorfields had many of these gardens, 
 but Bethnal Green, Hoxton (Hoggesden), and Mile End were 
 favourite spots for these retreats. Of course the city madams 
 were accused of using these gardens as convenient places for 
 intrigue. 
 
 The education of girls was never so thorough as at this 
 time. Perhaps Lucy Hutchinson and Lady Jane Grey — well- 
 known cases — ought no^ to be taken as average examples. 
 The former, for instance, could read at four, and at seven was 
 under eight tutors, who taught her languages, music, dancing, 
 
>o8 
 
 LONDON 
 
 ^/ 
 
 writing, and needlework. She also became a proficient in the 
 art of preparing simples and medicines. Of her husband she 
 says that he was a masterly player on the viol ; that he was a 
 good marksman with gun and bow ; and that he was a collector 
 of paintings and engravings. Perhaps there was never a time 
 w^hen body and mind were equally trained and developed as 
 they were in the sixteenth century. Think with what contempt 
 Sidney and Raleigh would regard an age like the present, when 
 the young men are trained to football, running, and cricket, "but 
 for the most part, cannot ride, cannot shoot, cannot fence, can- 
 not box, cannot wrestle, cannot sing, cannot play any instru- 
 ment, cannot dance, and cannot make verses ! 
 
 In the matter of rogues, vagabonds, and common cheats, the 
 
 age of Elizabeth shows no falling 
 off, but quite the reverse. We have 
 little precise information on Eng- 
 lish ribmiderie before this time, 
 but now^, thanks to John Awdely, 
 Thomas Harman, Parson Hybes- 
 drine, Thomas Dekker, Robert 
 Greene, and others, we learn the 
 whole art and mystery of coney- 
 catching as practised under the 
 Tudor dynasty. The rogues had 
 ^->- their own language. No doubt 
 they always had their language, as 
 they have it now ; and it varied 
 from year to year as it varies now, but the ground-work re- 
 mained the same, and, indeed, remains the same to this day. 
 The rogues and thieves, the beggars and the imposters are still 
 with us. They are still accompanied by their autem morts, their 
 walking morts, their Kynchen morts, their doxies, and their 
 dolls, only some of those cheats are changed with the changes 
 of the time. Under Queen Gloriana they abound in every town 
 and in every street, they tramp along all the roads, they haunt 
 the farmhouses, they rob the market-women and the old men. 
 They have their ranks and their precedency. The Upright 
 man is a captain among them ; the Curtail has authority over 
 them ; the Patriarch Co marries them until death do them part, 
 that is to say, until they pass a carcase of any creature, when, 
 if they choose, they shake hands and go separate ways. They 
 
 NEWGATE 
 
TUDOR 209 
 
 are well known by profession and name at every fair through- 
 out the country. They are Great John Gray and Little John 
 Gray ; John Stradling with the shaking head ; Lawrence with 
 the great leg ; Henry Smyth, who drawls when he speaks ; that 
 fine old gentleman, Richard Horwood, who is eighty years of 
 age and can still bite a sixpenny nail asunder with his teeth, 
 and a notable toper still ; Will Pellet, who carries the Kynchen 
 mort at his back ; John Browne, the stammerer ; and the rest 
 of them. They are all known ; their backs and shoulders are 
 scored with the nine-tailed cat ; not a headborough or a con- 
 stable but knows them every one. Yet they forget their prison y 
 and their whipping as soon as they are free. Those things are 
 the little drawbacks of the profession, against which must be set 
 freedom, no work, no masters, and no duties. Who would not 
 go upon the budge, even though at the end there stands the 
 three trees, up which we shall have to climb by the ladder ? 
 
 The Budge it is a delicate trade. 
 And a delicate trade of fame ; 
 For when that we have bit the bloe, 
 We carry away the game. 
 
 But when that we come to Tyburn 
 For going upon the Budge, 
 There stands Jack Catch the hangman 
 That owes us all a grudge. 
 
 And when that he hath noosed us, 
 And our friends tip him no cole ; 
 O then he throws us into the cart, 
 And tumbles us in the hole. 
 
 In the streets of London they separate and practise each 
 in the quarter most likely to catch the gull. For instance, 
 observe this well-dressed young gentleman, with the simple 
 manner and the honest face, strolling along the middle-walk of 
 Paul's. Simple as he looks, his eye glances here and there 
 among the throng. Presently he sees a young countryman, 
 whom he knows by the unfailing signs ; he approaches the 
 countryman ; he speaks to him ; in a few minutes they leave 
 the Cathedral together and betake them to a tavern where they 
 dine, each paying for himself, in amity and friendship, though 
 Strangers but an hour sinte. Then comes into the tavern an 
 ancient person somewhat decayed in appearance, who sits down 
 
 P 
 
2IO LONDON 
 
 and calls for a stoup of ale. * Now/ says the first young man, 
 •you shall see a jest, sir.' Whereupon he accosts the old gentle- 
 man, and presently proposes to throw the dice for another pot. 
 The old man accepts, being a very simple and child-like old 
 man, and loses — both his money and his temper. Then the 
 countryman joins in. . . . After the young countryman gets 
 home, he learns that the old man was a * fingerer ' by profession, 
 and that the young man was his confidant. 
 
 The courtesy man works where the sailors and sea-captains 
 congregate ; he accosts one who looks credulous and new ; he 
 tells him that he is one of a company, tall, proper men, all like 
 himself — he is well-mannered ; they are disbanded soldiers, 
 masterless and moneyless ; for himself, he would not beg, but 
 for his dear comrades he would do anything ; when he receives 
 a shilling he puts it up with an air of contempt, but accepts the 
 donor's good will, and thanks him for so much. A plausible 
 villain, this. 
 
 Outside Aldgate, where the Essex farmers are found, the 
 ' ring faller ' loves to practise his artless game. Have we not 
 still with us the man who picks up the ring which he is willing 
 to let us have for the tenth of its value ? The Elizabethan 
 mariner, who has been shipwrecked and lost his all, has vanished. 
 The Tudor disbanded soldier has vanished, but the army reserve 
 man sells his matches in the street when he cannot find the 
 work he looks for so earnestly ; the counterfeit cranker who 
 stood at the corner of the street covered with mud, and his face 
 besmeared with blood, as one who has just had an attack of 
 the falling sickness, is gone, because that kind of sickness is 
 known no longer ; the ' frater,' who carried a forged licence to 
 beg for a hospital, is also gone ', the abraham man, who pretended 
 to be mad, is gone ; the ' palliard ' or * clapper dodger ; ' the 
 angler, who stuck a hook in a long pole and helped himself out 
 of the open shops ; the ' prigger of prancers,' a horse thief; the 
 ruffler, the swigman and prigman, are also gone, but their 
 descendants remain with us, zealous in the pursuit of kindred 
 callings, and watched over paternally by a force, 38,000 strong, 
 about one policeman for every habitual criminal, so that since 
 every policeman costs 100/. a year, and every criminal steals, 
 eats, or destroys property to the same amount at least, every 
 criminal costs the country — first, the things which he steals — 
 say 100/. a year ; next, his policeman, another lOO/. ; thirdly, 
 
TUDOR 211 
 
 the loss of his own industry ; and fourthly, the loss of the 
 policeman's industry ; making in all, about 500/. a year. It 
 would be cheaper to lock him up. 
 
 In the matter of punishments, we have entered upon a time \/^ 
 of greater cruelty than prevailed under the Plantagenets. Men 
 are boiled, and women are burned for poisoning ; heretics are 
 still burned — in 1585 one thus suffered for denying the divinity 
 of Christ ; ears are nailed to the pillory and sliced off for defa- 
 mation and seditious words ; long and cruel whippings are 
 inflicted, in one case through Westminster and London for 
 forgery ; an immense number are hanged every year ; the 
 chronicler Macheyn continually sets down such a fact as that 
 on this day twelve were hanged at Tyburn, seven men and five 
 women ; mariners were hanged at low water at Wapping, for 
 offences committed at sea ; the good old custom of pillory was 
 maintained with zeal ; and the parading of backsliders in carts 
 or on horseback was kept up. Thus, one woman for selling fry 
 of fish, unlawful, rode triumphantly through the town with gar- 
 lands of fish decorating her head and shoulders and the tail of 
 the horse, while one went before beating a brass basin. Another 
 woman was carried round, a distaff in her hand, and a blue 
 hood on her head, for a common scold. A man was similarly 
 honoured for selling measly pork, and another, riding with his 
 head to the animal's tail, for doing something sinful connected 
 with lamb and veal. 
 
 The cruelty of punishments only shows that the administra- \y 
 tion of the law was weak. In fact, the machinery for enforcing 
 law and repressing crime was growing more and more unequal 
 to the task, as the city grew in numbers and in population. The 
 magistrates sought to deter by the spectacle of suffering. This 
 is a deterrent which only acts beneficially when punishment is 
 certain, or nearly certain. The knowledge that nine criminals 
 will escape for one who is whipped all the way from Charing 
 Cross to Newgate, encourages the whole ten to continue. Men 
 are like children : if they are to be kept in the paths of virtue, 
 it is better to watch and prevent them continually, than to leave 
 them free and to punish them if they fall. But this great law 
 was not as yet understood. 
 
 pa 
 
212 
 
 LONDON 
 
 VII 
 
 TUDOR- conthmed 
 
 SIGN OF THE TUKEE KINGS, 
 BUCKLERSBURY 
 
 II. — A PERAMBULATION 
 
 It was on the morning of June 
 23, in the year of grace 1603, 
 that I was privileged to behold 
 John Stow himself in the flesh 
 and to converse with him, and 
 to walk with him through the 
 streets of the city whose history 
 and origin he knew better than 
 any man of his own age or of 
 any time that has followed him. 
 It is common enough for a man 
 to live among posterity, to speak to them and counsel them and 
 comfort them ; but for a man to visit his forefathers is a thing 
 of rarer occurrence. At another time the way and manner of 
 slipping backwards up the ringing grooves of change may be 
 explained for the benefit of others. For the moment, the im- 
 portant thing is the actual fact. 
 
 I found the venerable antiquary in his lodging. He lived — 
 it was the year before he died — with his old wife, a childless 
 pair, in a house over against the Church of St. Andrew Under- 
 shaft, in the street called St. Mary Axe. The house itself was 
 modest, containing two rooms on the ground floor and one large 
 room, or solar, as it would have been called in olden time, above. 
 There was a garden at the back, and behind the garden stood 
 the ruins of St. Helen's Nunnery, with the grounds and gardens 
 of that once famous house which had passed into the possession 
 of the l.eathersellers' Company. This open space afforded free- 
 dom and sweetness for the air, which doubtless conduced to the 
 
TUDOR 213 
 
 antiquary's length of days. Outside the door I found sitting in 
 an armchair Mistress Stow, an ancient dame. She had knitting 
 in her lap, and she was fast asleep, the day being fine and warm, 
 with a hot sun in the heavens, and a soft wind from the south. 
 Without asking her leave, therefore, I passed within, and mount- 
 ing a steep, narrow stair, found myself in the library and in the 
 presence of John Stow himself The place was a long room, 
 lofty in the middle, but with sloping sides. It was lit by two 
 dormer windows ; neither carpet nor arras, nor hangings of any 
 kind adorned the room, which was filled, so that it was difficult 
 to turn about in it, with books, papers, parchments, and rolls. 
 They lay piled on the floor ; they stood in lines and columns 
 against the walls ; they were heaped upon the tables ; they lay 
 at the right hand of the chair ready for use ; they were every- 
 where. I observed, too, that they were not such books as may 
 be seen in a great man's library, bound after the Italian fashion 
 with costly leather, gilt letters, golden clasps, and silken strings. 
 Not so. These books were old folios for the most part ; the 
 backs were broken ; the leaves, where any lay open, were 
 discoloured ; many of them were in the Gothic black letter. 
 On the table were paper, pens, and ink, and in the straight- 
 backed armchair sat the old man himself, pen in hand, laboriously 
 bending over a huge tome from which he was making extracts. 
 He wore a black silk cap ; his long white hair fell down upon his 
 shoulders. The casements of the windows stood wide open, and 
 through one of them, which looked to the south, the summer 
 sunshine poured warm and bright upon the old scholar's head, 
 and upon the table at which he sat. 
 
 When I entered the room he looked up, rose, and bowed 
 courteously. His figure was tall and spare ; his shoulders w^re 
 rounded by much bending over books ; his face was scored 
 with the lines and wrinkles of old age ; his eyes were clear and 
 keen ; but his aspect was kindly ; his speech was soft and gentle 
 
 * Sir,' he said, ' you are welcome. I had never expected or 
 looked to converse in the flesh, or in the spirit — I know not 
 which this visit may be called— with one from after generations ; 
 from our children and grandchildren. May I ask to which 
 generation ' 
 
 * I belong to the late nineteenth century.' 
 
 * It is nearly three hundred years to come. Bones a' me ! 
 Ten generations! I take this visit, sir, as an encouragement; 
 
214 LONDON 
 
 even a special mark of favour bestowed upon me by the Lord, 
 to show His servant that his work will not be forgotten.' 
 
 * Forgotten ? Nay, Master Stow, there are not many men 
 of your age whom we would not lose before you are forgotten. 
 Believe me, the " Survey by John Stow " will last as long as 
 the city itself.' 
 
 * Truly, sir,' the old man replied, * my sole pains and care 
 have ever been to write the truth. It is forty years — Ah ! what 
 a man was I at forty ! What labours could I then accomplish 
 between uprising and down-lying — forty years I say, since I 
 wrote the lines : — 
 
 Of smooth and feathering speech remember to take heed, 
 For truth in plain words may be told ; of craft a lie hath need. 
 
 * Of craft,' he repeated, ' a lie hath need. If the world would 
 consider — well, sir, I am old and my friends are mostly dead, 
 and men, I find, care little for the past wherein was life, but still 
 regard the present and push on towards the future — wherein are 
 death and the grave. And for my poor services the king hath 
 granted letters patent whereby I am licensed to beg. I complain 
 not, though for one who is a London citizen and the grandson 
 of reputable citizens, to beg one's bread is to be bankrupt, and 
 of bankrupts this city hath great scorn. Yet, I say, I complain 
 not' 
 
 * In so long a life,' I said, ' you must have many memories.' 
 
 * So many, sir, that they fill my mind. Often, as I sit here, 
 whither cometh no one now to converse about the things of old, 
 my senses are closed to the present, and my thoughts carry me 
 back to the old days. Why,' his eyes looked back as he spoke, 
 * I remember King Harry the Eighth himself, the like of whom 
 for masterfulness this realm hath never seen. Who but a 
 strong man could by his own will overthrow — yea, and tear up 
 by the very foundations — the religion which seemed made to 
 endure for ever ? Sure I am that when I was a boy there was 
 no thought of any change. I remember when in the streets 
 every second man was priest or monk. The latter still wore his 
 habit — grey, white, or black. But you could not tell the priest 
 from the layman, for the priests were so proud that they went 
 clothed in silks and furs ; yea, and of bright colours like any 
 court gallant ; their shoes spiked ; their hair crisped ; their 
 girdles armed with silver ; and in like manner their bridles and 
 
TUDOR 
 
 215 
 
 their spurs ; their caps laced and buttoned with gold. Now our 
 clergy go in sober attire, so that the gravity of their calling is 
 always made manifest to their own and other's eyes by the mere 
 colour of their dress. I remember, being then a youth, how the 
 Houses were dissolved and the monks turned out. All were 
 swept away. There was not even left so much as an hospital 
 for the sick ; even the blind men of Elsing's were sent adrift and 
 the lepers from the Lazar house and the old priests from the 
 Papey. There was no help for the poor in those days, and 
 
 THE MANNER OF BURNING ANNE ASKEW, JOHN LACELS, JOHN ADAMS, AND 
 NICOLAS BELENIAN, WITH CKRTANE OF YE COUNSELL SITTING IN SMITH- 
 FIELD 
 
 folk murmured, but below breath, and would fain, but dared not 
 say so, have seen the old religion again. The king gave the 
 houses to his friends. Lord Cromwell got Austin Friars, where 
 my father, citizen and tallowchandler, had his house. Nay, so 
 greedy of land was my lord that he set back my father's wall, 
 and so robbed him of his garden, and there was no redress, 
 because he was too strong.' 
 
 He got up and walked about the room, talking as he paced 
 the narrow limits. He falked garrulously, as if it pleased him 
 to talk about the past. 'When we came presently to study 
 
 V 
 
2i6 LONDON 
 
 Holy Scripture,' he said, ' where there is an example or a warning 
 for everything, we read the history of Ahab and of Naboth's 
 vineyard ; and for my own part I could never avoid comparing 
 my Lord Cromwell with Ahab and the vineyard with my father's 
 garden, though Naboth had never to pay rent for the vineyard 
 which was taken from him as my father had. The end of my 
 Lord Cromwell was sudden and violent, like the end of King 
 Ahab.' 
 
 ' You belong to an old city family. Master Stow .'' ' I asked. 
 
 * Sir, my forefathers for five generations — at least my memory 
 goes not further back — are all buried in the little green church- 
 yard behind St. Michael's Cornhill. My grandfather, citizen 
 and tallowchandler, died when I was yet of tender years. This 
 have I always regretted, because he might have told me many 
 curious things concerning the city in the time of Edward the 
 Fourth. The penance of Jane Shore he would surely remember. 
 Nay, he may even have known that unfortunate lady, wife of a 
 reputable citizen. Yet have I in my youth conversed with old 
 men and learned much from them. My grandfather, by his 
 last will, thought it no superstition to leave money for watching 
 candles. I was once taken to the church to see them burning, 
 and there I remember I saw a poor woman who received every 
 Sunday, for a year, one penny for saying five pater-nosters for 
 the good of his soul. Thus she lived, poor wretch, wasting her 
 breath in fruitless labour. I marvel to think what has become 
 of all those who lived by the altar in the old days. The priests 
 of the churches and the chantries, the chaplains of the fraternities, 
 the singing men, the petty canons, the sextons, singers, sayers 
 of pater-nosters, sellers of crosses, and beads, and chaplets, and 
 wax tapers, the monks and the nuns with all their officers and 
 servants — there were many thousands in this city alone — what 
 became of them ? How get they now a livelihood ? Tell me 
 that. As for me, I have been hauled before the courts on a 
 charge of Papistry. Bones o' me! All my crime was the 
 reading of old books, yet do I remember the evil days of King 
 Edward's time, when the Reformation was new and people's minds 
 were troubled, and all things seemed turning to destruction, so 
 that many welcomed back the old religion when Mary came, 
 yet when she died there was found none to mourn for its banish- 
 ment. Sir, the old are apt to praise the past, but from one 
 who has lived through the glorious reign of Queen Elizabeth 
 
TUDOR 
 
 2T7 
 
 shall you hear nothing but praise of the present. Consider '— 
 he arose and walked to the open window and looked out — 'this 
 
 OLD FOUNTAIN INN IN THE MINORIES 
 
 Taken down in 1793 
 
 fine town of London, lik? the realm itself, was devoured by the 
 priests and monks. It is now freed from those locusts. The 
 
2i8 LONDON 
 
 land that belonged to the Church could not be sold, so that those 
 who lived upon it were always tenants and servants. That land 
 is now free. Learning, which before was on sufferance, is now 
 free. Nay, there hath been so great a zeal for learning — such 
 an exemplar was Her Highness the Queen — that noble ladies, 
 as well as gentlemen, have become skilled in Latin, Greek, 
 Italian, and even in Hebrew. The trade of the city hath doubled 
 and trebled. Thanks to the wisdom of our merchants and their 
 courage, London doth now surpass Antwerp. The Spaniard, 
 who vainly thought to rule the world, is humbled, and by us. 
 The French, who would strike at England through Scotland, 
 have lost their power. Our ships sail round the world ; our 
 merchants trade with India in the east and with America in the 
 west : our trading companies cover all the seas. What does it 
 matter that. I am old and poor and licensed to beg my bread — 
 and that in a city which have ever scorned poverty — what does 
 it matter, I say, so that one has lived through this most happy 
 reign and seen this city increase, year by year, in wealth and 
 greatness ? Who am I that I should murmur ? I have had my 
 prayer. The Lord hath graciously made me the historian ot 
 the city. My work will be a monument What more can a 
 man want than to have the desire of his heart ? ' His voice 
 trembled. He stood in the sunshine, which wrapped him as with 
 a glory. Then he turned to me. 
 
 *Sir,' said he, 'you are here — whether in the flesh or the 
 spirit I know not. Come with me. Let me show you my city and 
 my people. In three hundred years there will be many changes 
 and the sweeping away of many old landmarks, I doubt not. 
 There must be many changes in customs and usages and in 
 fashions of manners and of dress. Come with me. You shall 
 behold my present — and your past' 
 
 He put on his cloak — a shabby cloak it was, and too short 
 for his tall figure — and led the way down the narrow stairs into 
 the street He stepped out of the house, and looked up and 
 down the street, sniffing the air with the greatest satisfaction, as 
 if it had been laden with the perfumes of Araby the Blest 
 instead of the smell of a glue-making shop hard by. 
 
 * Ha ! ' he said, * the air of London is wholesome. We have 
 had no plague since the sweating sickness, fifty years ago.* 
 (There was to be another the year after, but this he could not 
 know, and it was not for me to tell him.) * Yet at Iseldon, hard 
 
TUDOR 219 
 
 by, fevers are again very prevalent, and the falling-sickness is 
 reported from Westminster. This, sir, is the street of St. Mary 
 Axe. It is not one of our great streets, yet many worshipful 
 men live here. Opposite is the house of one who is worth four 
 thousand pounds — ay, four thousand pounds at least ; not a 
 Gresham or a Staple, yet a man of substance.' The house was 
 four storeys high, the front of brick and timber, the windows 
 filled above and below with rich carvings, and having a high 
 gable. *The wealth of private citizens hath lately much in- 
 creased. In my youth there were few such houses ; now there 
 are a dozen where formerly there was but one. If you go 
 into that house, sir, you will find the table plentiful and the wine 
 good ; you will see arras hanging in every chamber, or a painted 
 cloth with proverbs at least ; sweet herbs or flowers are strewn 
 in every room ; the hoyse is warmed with fires ; the sideboards 
 are loaded with plate or are bright with Murano glass. There 
 are coffers of ivory and wood to hold the good man's treasure ; 
 and in an upper chamber you shall see hanging up the cloaks 
 and doublets, the gowns and petticoats, of this worthy and 
 worshipful merchant and his family, in silk and velvet, precious 
 and costly. Fifty years ago there would have been none of 
 these things, but treen platters ; of arras none ; and but one poor 
 silver mazer for all his plate. But we are not ashamed to see 
 the tenements of the craftsmen side by side with the great houses 
 of the rich. For we are all brothers in this city ; one family are 
 we, rich and poor together ; we are united in our companies and 
 in our work ; our prentices are taught their trade ; to our maids 
 we give marriage portions ; we suffer no stranger among us ; our 
 sick and aged are kept from want and suffering.' 
 
 * But you have great Lords and noblemen amongst you. 
 Surely they are not of your family.' 
 
 * Sir, the time was when it was a happy circumstance for the 
 city to have the nobles within her walls. That time is past. 
 They are fast leaving our bounds. One or two alone remain, 
 and we shall not lament their departure. There is no longer 
 any danger that the city will be separate in feeling from the 
 country, and it is true that the rufflers who follow in a noble 
 lord's train are ever ready to turn a silly girl's head or to lead a 
 prentice into dissolute w§ys. In this street there were once no 
 fewer than three parish churches. Yonder ruin at the north end 
 was St. Augustine on the Wall : here of old times was the house 
 
220 
 
 LONDON 
 
 of the old and sick priests, called the Papey. King Henry- 
 turned them out, and who took in the poor old men I know not. 
 'Twas a troubled time. Yonder was the church — its churchyard 
 yet remaining — of St. Mary Axe, dedicated not only to the 
 Virgin whom now we have ceased to worship, yet still reverence, 
 but also to St. Ursula, whom we regard no more, and to the 
 Eleven Thousand Virgins, at whose pretended miracle we scoff. 
 And opposite is the goodly church of St Andrew Undershaft. Ot 
 churches we have fewer than of old. As for piety, truly I see no 
 difference, for some will always be pious, and some prodigal and 
 
 AXCIEXr NORTH-EAST VIEW OF 
 BISHOrSGATE STREET 
 
 profligate. I remember,' he went on, gazing, as was his wont, at 
 the church as if he loved the very stones, ' I remember the May- 
 pole when it hung upon hooks along the south wall of the church. 
 I never saw it erected, because Evil May-day, before I was born, 
 when the prentices rose against the aliens, was the last time that 
 it was put up. It was destroyed in King Edward's time, when 
 one Sir Stephen, curate of Katherine Cree, preached at Paul's 
 Cross that the May-pole was an idol. So the people brought 
 axes and cut it up — the goodliest May-pole that the world has 
 ever seen, and taller than the steeple of the church. The same 
 Sir Stephen wanted to change the names of the churches and 
 
TUDOR 
 
 221 
 
 the names of the weekdays, and the time of Lent, all for the sake 
 of idolatry. And the same Sir Stephen caused the death of the 
 
 r"-"^^ - •. 
 
 80UTH-WEST VIEW OF AN ANCIENT STRUCTURE IN SHIP YARD, TEMPLE BAR 
 
222 LONDON 
 
 most honest man that ever Hved, for alleged seditious words. 
 Well — 'tis fifty years ago.' 
 
 With this reminiscence we passed through Leadenhall, and 
 into a broad and open place. 'Now/ said Stow/ we are in the very 
 heart of the city. Here hath been, for time out of mind, a corn- 
 market. And here are pillory and stocks, but,' said Stow, ' this 
 pillory is for false dealing only. The greater pillory is in Cheap- 
 side, Here we have the Tun prison ' — in shape the building 
 somewhat resembled a tun — ' for street offenders and the like. 
 It has been a city prison for three hundred years and more. 
 Beside it is the conduit. Here are two churches ; St. Peter's — 
 which falsely pretends to be the most ancient of any in the city 
 — and St. Michael's. But the chief glory of Cornhill is the 
 Royal Exchange. Let us look in. 
 
 The entrance and principal front of the Royal Exchange 
 were on the south side. We looked in. The place was crowded 
 with merchants, grave and sober men, walking within in pairs, 
 or gathered in little groups. Among them were foreigners 
 from Germany, France, Venice, Genoa, Antwerp, and even 
 Russia, conspicuous by their dress. ' Before the building of this 
 place,' said Stow, ' our merchants had no place to meet, and were 
 forced to seek out each other ; nor was there any place where 
 the latest news might be brought, however much the interest of 
 the city might be affected. Now all is changed, and every morn- 
 ing our worshipful merchants meet to hear the news, and to 
 discuss their business. Come, we must not linger, for we have 
 much to see ; else there would be many things to tell. Believe 
 me, sir, I could discourse all day long upon the trade of London 
 and yet not make an end.' 
 
 He led me past the Royal Exchange, past two churches, one 
 on the north side and one on the south, into a broad and open 
 street which I knew must be Cheapside. 
 
 ' Here,' said he, ' is the beauty of London. This, good sir, 
 is Chepe.' 
 
 The street was at least double the width of its modern suc- 
 cessor. The houses, which were the fairest, taken all together, 
 in the whole of the city, were nearly all five storeys high, each 
 storey projecting above the one below, with high-pitched gable 
 facing the street. The fronts were of brick and timber, and 
 some of them were curiously and richly carved. In some the 
 third storey was provided with a balcony shaded from the sun. 
 
TUDOR 223 
 
 The ground-floor contained the shop, protected by a prentice 
 A sign hung in front of every house. In the middle was Queen 
 Eleanor's cross, the figure of the Virgin and Holy Infant defaced 
 by zealous Protestants. Near the cross was the conduit. The 
 shops on the south side were of grocers, haberdashers, and up- 
 holsterers. Farther west the goldsmiths stood together, and 
 then the mercers. The street was filled with people, some riding, 
 some walking. There were gallants, followed by servants 
 carrying their swords ; there were grave city merchants and fine 
 city madams ; there were working-men and craftsmen ; there 
 were the prentices, too, in every shop, bawling their wares. 
 
 ' When I was a prentice,' said Stow, * the boys were made to 
 wear blue cloaks in summer and blue gowns in winter, with 
 breeches and stockings of white broad cloth, and flat caps. 
 They attended their master at night with a lanthorn and clubs, 
 and they fetched the water in the morning, unless they were 
 mercers, who were excused. But all good manners are changed. 
 Now they dress as they please, and except that they carry the 
 club and break each other's pates withal, they are no longer like 
 the old prentice. Also formerly ten pounds would suffice to 
 bind a lad and make him free of the city ; now a hundred is 
 wanted. Well, sir, here you have Chepe. Rich it is with goodly 
 houses and its ancient churches ; I say not stately churches 
 because our forefathers loved better to beautify the religious 
 houses than their parish churches — yet many goodly monuments 
 are erected in them to the memories of dead worthies. Much of 
 the carved work and the painting has been destroyed or defaced 
 by the zeal of reformers, who have broken the painted windows 
 so that false doctrine should no longer be preached by those 
 dumb orators. Truly, when I think upon the churches as they 
 were, with all their monuments and chapels and holy roods, 
 carved and beautified by the cunning of the sculptor and limner, 
 and look upon them as they are, hacked and hewn, I am fain to 
 weep for sorrow. Yet, again, when I remember the swarms of 
 monks and priests from whom we are set free, and our holy mar- 
 tyrs who perished in the flames, I confess that the destruction 
 was needful.' He stepped aside to make room for a gentle- 
 woman who walked proudly along the street, followed by a 
 servant. 
 
 * Ay,' he murmured,^ thy husband is a respectable merchant 
 pn 'Change ; his father before him, citizen and armourer, also 
 
224 LONDON 
 
 respected. But his profits will not long- suffice to meet thine 
 extravagance, my fine city madam.' 
 
 She was of the middle height, and about thirty years of age ; 
 her hair was a bright red. * A week ago it was brown,' said my 
 guide. It was knotted and raised above her forehead ; on hei 
 head she wore a hood of muslin, under which one could see gold 
 threads in her hair, and open peascods with pearls for peas ; her 
 face was smeared all over with paint ; a heavy gold chain hung 
 round her neck ; her ruff was of enormous size, and her waist 
 was extravagantly long ; her gown was of rich velvet, looped 
 back to show her petticoat of flowered satin ; she had a lovelock 
 under her left ear, tied with a freshly-cut rose ; she was so stuffed 
 out with hoops that she covered as much space as six women ; 
 in one hand she carried a fan, and in the other a pomander-box, 
 at which she sniffed perpetually. 
 
 ' She moves like a painted galley,' said Stow. ' No barge on 
 the river finer to look at. All the argosies of the East would be 
 swallowed up by such a woman. " Give, give," say the daughters 
 of the horse leech. Sir, the Lord made the female less comely 
 than her mate ; witness the peahen and the pullet in their russet 
 garb compared with the splendour of their male. This, I take 
 it, is the reason why women continually seek by some new 
 fashion or device to remove the inequality, and, if possible, to 
 overtop their lords as well as each other. As for me, I have 
 always loved a maid in her simplicity, her hair falling in curls 
 about her lovely face, and her shape visible instead of hidden 
 under ruffs and hoops. But, alas ! What hath a man of eighty 
 to do with maidens ? ' he sighed. 
 
 ' Yonder,' he went on, ' is the chief pillory, the whipping-place 
 of the city. Chepe is not only a place of trade and fine clothes. 
 Here have I seen many things done that would be cruel but for 
 the common weal. Once I saw a comely maiden lose her ears 
 and have her forehead branded for trying to poison her mistress. 
 Once I saw a schoolmaster flogged for cruelly beating a boy. 
 It was rare to see the boys shouting and clapping their hands 
 as the poor wretch screamed. Some have I seen pilloried for 
 cheating, some for seditious words, some for disorder. Pillory 
 is a potent physician. The mere sight of these round holes and 
 that post doth act like a medicine upon old and young. It is 
 in Smithfield, not in Chepe, that we chiefly hold our executions. 
 Men and women have been burned there for other things besides 
 
TUDOR 
 
 225 
 
 heresy : for poisoning, for false coining, for murdering. Many 
 are hanged every year in that ruffians' field. But to-day we shall 
 not see executions. Let us talk of more mirthful things. And 
 see, here comes a wedding-train ! ' 
 
 The music came first, a noise of crowds and clarions playing 
 merrily. Next came damsels bearing bride cakes 'and gilded 
 loaves. After them a young man carried the silver bride cup, 
 filled with hippocras and garnished with rosemary, which stands 
 for constancy. Then came the bride herself, a very beauteous 
 lady, dressed all in white, decorated with long chains of gold, 
 pearls, and precious stones. On her head was a white lace cap. 
 
 OBSEQUIES OF SIR PHILIP SIDNEY 
 
 She was led by two boys in green and gold. After her walked 
 her parents and other members of the family. 
 
 * Ha ! ' he said, ' there will be rare feasting to-day, with masks 
 and mumming and dancing. We marry but once in our lives. 
 'Twere pity if we could not once rejoice. Yet there are some 
 who would turn every feast into a fast, and make even a wedding 
 the occasion for a sermon. See ! after a wedding a funeral. I 
 am glad the bride met not this. 'Tis bad luck for a bride to 
 meet a burying.' 
 
 Then there came slowly marching down the street, while 
 the people stepped asid?and took off their hats, a funeral pro- 
 cession. 
 
226 LONDON 
 
 * Who hath died ? ' asked Stow. ' This it is to be old and to 
 live retired. I have not heard. Yet, considering the length of 
 the procession, one would say a prince in Israel. Neighbour,' 
 he asked a bystander, ' whose funeral is this ? Ha ! So he is 
 dead ! A worthy man ; a knight, once sheriff, citizen, and 
 mercer. You will see, my friend, that we still know how to mourn 
 our dead worthies, though we lack the singing clerks and priests 
 who formerly went first chanting all the way.' 
 
 The procession drew nearer. ' Now/ he said, ' I take it that 
 you will not know the order of the march, wherefore I will inter- 
 pret. First, therefore, walk the children of Christ's Hospital, 
 two by two ; he was, therefore, a benefactor or governor of the 
 school. Then follow the yeomen conductors, two by two, in 
 black coats with black staves. The poor men of the parish, two 
 by two ; then the poor women in like order ; the choir of the 
 church ; and the preacher — he has crape over his cassock. Then 
 a gentleman in hood and gown bearing the standard. Next 
 three gentlewomen in black gowns ; there are the aldermen in 
 violet. Those two grave persons are the executors of the de- 
 ceased. There is the pennon borne by a gentleman in hood 
 and gown ; the helm and crest borne by a pursuivant ; the coat 
 of arms borne by a herald, Clarence King at Arms.' 
 
 After this long procession came the coffin itself, borne by six 
 yeomen in black coats ; it was covered with a black velvet pall. 
 On either side walked two gentlemen in hoods and gowns, 
 carrying pennons. One of them bore the arms of the deceased, 
 a gentleman of good family ; one bore the arms of the city ; one 
 those of the Mercers' Company ; and one those of the Merchant 
 Adventurers. 
 
 Then came the rest of the procession and my guide began 
 again. ' There follows the chief mourner, the eldest son of the 
 deceased ; then four other mourners, two by two ; then the 
 Chamberlain and Town Clerk of the city ; the Sword Bearer ; 
 the Lord Mayor in black ; the Aldermen having no blacks.' I 
 confess that I understood not the distinction nor what followed 
 * The estates of women having blacks ; Aldermen's wives having 
 no blacks ; the city companies represented by their wardens and 
 clerks ; the masters of the hospitals having green staves.' I 
 could have asked why they chose this colour, but had no time. 
 'Lastly, the neighbours and parishioners carrying evergreens 
 bay, and rosemary.' 
 
TUDOR 227 
 
 So it was finished. A procession well nigh a quarter of a 
 mile in length. 
 
 * Since we must all die,' said Master Stow, * it must be a 
 singular comfort to the rich and those in high place to think 
 that they will be borne to their graves in such state and pomp, 
 with, doubtless, a goodly monument in the church to perpetuate 
 their memory. As for me, I am poor and of no account, only a 
 beggar licensed by grace of his Majesty the King. My parish 
 church hath a fine pall which it will lend me to cover my coffin. 
 Four men will carry me across the street and will lower me into 
 my grave. And so we end.' 
 
 • Not so an end, good Master Stow,' I said. * This city 
 Knight — his name I did not catch — shall be forgotten before 
 the present generation passes away, even though they erect a 
 monument to his memory. But thy achievements will be 
 remembered as long as London Town shall continue. I see 
 already the monument that shall be raised to thy memory, in 
 addition to the book which will never die.' 
 
 ' Amen. So be it,' he replied. ' Come, you have seen the 
 merchants in the Royal Exchange, and you have seen the shops 
 of Chepe. We will now before the hour of dinner visit Paul's 
 Churchyard and Paul's Walk.' 
 
 At the western end of Cheapside was the Church of St. 
 Michael le Quern, a small building sixty feet long, with a square 
 tower fifty feet high, and a clock on the south face. At the 
 back of the church was the little conduit. The houses north 
 and south were here exactly alike, uniform in size and construc- 
 tion. On the south side a broad archway, with a single room 
 above and a gabled roof, opened into Paul's Churchyard. 
 • There are six gates,' said Stow, * round the churchyard. This 
 is called Paul's Gate, or by some, the Little Gate.' 
 
 The area included was crowded with buildings and planted 
 with trees. On the north side were many shops of stationers, 
 each with its sign — the White Greyhound, the Flower de Luce, 
 the Angel, the Spread Eagle, and others. In the middle rose 
 the church towering high, its venerable stones black with age 
 and the smoke of London. 
 
 • The place is much despoiled,' said the antiquary, * since the 
 days of the old religion. Many things have been taken down 
 which formerly beautified the churchyard. For instance, on this 
 very spot, covered now with dwelling-houses and shops, was the 
 
 # Q2 
 
228 LONDON 
 
 Charnel Chapel, as old as King Edward the First. It was a 
 chapel of the Blessed Virgin. Sir Richard Whittington endowed 
 it with a chaplain. There were two brotherhoods ; its crypt was 
 filled with bones ; the chapel was filled with monuments. One 
 would have thought that reverence for the bones would have 
 sufficed to preserve the chapel. But no. It was in the reign of 
 Edward the Sixth, when everything was destroyed. The Duke of 
 Somerset pulled down the chapel. The bones he caused to be 
 placed in carts — they made a thousand loads — and to be carried 
 to Finsbury Fields, where they were thrown out and strewn 
 around — a pitiful spectacle. Beside the Charnel Chapel was 
 the Chapel of the Holy Ghost, served by the seven chaplains of 
 Holme's College, on the south side of the churchyard. That too 
 was destroyed. But most of all I lament the destruction of the 
 Pardon Churchyard. Truly this was one of the wonders of 
 London. There stands the plot of ground, a garden now for 
 the minor canons, but formerly a cloister wherein were buried 
 many persons of worship, and some of honour, whose monuments 
 were of curious workmanship. Round the cloister was painted 
 a dance of death, commonly called the Dance of Paul's, with 
 verses by John Lydgate, done at the dispense of John Carpenter. 
 Over the cast quadrant was a fair library, given by Walter 
 Sherrington, chancellor to Henry the Sixth ; and in the cloister 
 was a chapel, built by the father of Thomas a Becket, who lay 
 buried there. Of such antiquity was this beautiful and vener- 
 able place. Neither its age nor its beauty could save it. Nor 
 could the lesson concerning the presence of death, in this lively 
 portraiture, save it. Down it must come, and now there remains 
 but two or three old men like myself who can remember the 
 Dance of Paul's. Well, the figure of death is gone, but death 
 himself we cannot drive away. There is Paul's Cross,' he pointed 
 to an edifice at the north-east angle of the transept. 
 
 I looked with curiosity at this historical edifice, which was 
 smaller, as all historical things are, than one expected. It was 
 made of timber, mounted upon steps of stone, and covered with 
 lead. There was room in it for three or four persons ; a low wall 
 was built round it. A venerable man was preaching to a small 
 congregation, who sat on wooden benches to listen. 
 
 ' What things have not been heard,' said Stow, ' at Paul's 
 Cross ? Here were the folk motes of old, when the people were 
 called by the great bell to attend their parliament, and take 
 
TUDOR 
 
 229 
 
 counsel together. No Common Council then, my masters, but 
 every man his freedom of speech, and his vote. Paul's Cross it 
 was which made the Reformation. Here have I heard Latimer, 
 Ridley, Coverdale, Lever, and I know not whom besides. Here 
 
 DR. SIIAW PREACHING AT ST. PAUL's CROSS 
 
 I saw with my own eyes the Bexley Rood shown, with all the 
 tricks whereby it was made to open its eyes and lips and seem to 
 speak. All the Reformation was accomplished from this Cross. 
 For a king may set up 9 bishop, and proclaim a doctrine. But the 
 people's hearts must be moved before their minds are changed. 
 
230 
 
 LONDON 
 
 Think what a change was made in their minds in a few short 
 years ! Masses for the dead, purgatory, intercession of saints, 
 good works, submission to the Church — all gone ; all swept 
 away. And to think that I survive, who was brought up in the 
 ancient faith, and have witnessed this great revolution in the 
 minds of men. For now they no longer even remember their 
 ancient faith, save as the creed of those who lit the accursed 
 flame of Smithfield, and still light the flames of Madrid. Let 
 us go into the church,' he said. * But first remember, when you 
 look round, that in the old days the chapels in the aisles were 
 always bright with the burning of wax candles — a superstition, 
 because the burning of a candle is a fond thing to save a man's 
 
 :,:c^U.J^ 
 
 OLD ST, PAUT/S 
 
 soul withal. Also, in every chapel, all day long, there was the 
 saying of masses for the dead — another fond superstition— as if 
 a man's soul is to be saved by the repetition of Latin prayers by 
 another man. Yet, with these things the church fulfilled its 
 purpose. Now there are no more masses ; and the chapels are 
 empty and silent, their altars are removed, the paintings are de- 
 faced, and the church is given over for worldly things. Come in.* 
 
 We entered by the north transept. 
 
 There was much that astonished me in this walk through 
 London of the year 1603, but nothing so surprising and unex- 
 pected as St. Paul's Cathedral. I had pictured a church narrow, 
 long, somewhat low and dark. I found, on the other hand, that 
 
TUDOR 
 
 231 
 
 it was in every respect a most noble church, longer than any 
 other cathedral I had ever seen, loftier also, and well lighted in 
 every part, the style grand and simple. Consider, therefore, my 
 astonishment at finding the church desecrated and abandoned 
 like the common streets for the general uses of the people. The 
 choir alone, where the old screen still stood, was reserved for 
 purposes of worship, for there was a public thoroughfare through 
 
 MONUMENTS OF ST. PAUL'S WHICH SURVIVED THE FIRE (EAST END 
 OF THE NORTH CRYPT) 
 
 the transepts and across the church. Men tramped through, 
 carrying baskets of meat or of bread, sacks of coal, bundles, bags, 
 and parcels of all kinds, walking as in the streets, turning neither 
 to right nor left. Hucksters and peddlers not only walked 
 through but lingered on their way to sell their wares. Servants 
 stood and sat about a certain pillar to be hired ; scriveners sat 
 about another pillar writing letters for those who required their 
 
232 LONDON 
 
 services ; clergymen in quest of a curacy or vicarage gathered at 
 another pillar. ' Remember the verses/ said Stow : 
 
 Who wants a churchman that can service say, 
 Read first and faire his monthlie homilie, 
 And wed and bury and make Christian soules ? 
 Come to the left side alley of St. Paul's. 
 
 * The poor clergymen/ he went on, * have fallen upon evil 
 times ; there is not preferment enough for all of them, and many 
 of the country parishes are too poor to keep a man, even though 
 he live more hardly than a yeoman. 
 
 * This,' he added, ' is an exchange where almost as much 
 business is done as at Sir Thomas Gresham's Burse, but of 
 another kind. Here are houses bought and sold ; here is money 
 lent on usury ; here are conspiracies hatched, villanies resolved 
 upon ; here is the honour of women bought and sold ; here, if a 
 man wants a handful of desperadoes for the Spanish Main, he 
 may buy them cheap — look at those men standing by the tomb 
 that they call Duke Humphrey's.' 
 
 They were three tall, lean fellows, each with a long rapier 
 and a worn doublet and a hungry face. Only to look upon 
 them made one think of John Oxenham and his companions. 
 
 * These men should be taking of Panama or Guayaquil/ 
 said Stow. ' The time grows too peaceful for such as those. 
 But see, this is Paul's Walk ; this is the Mediterranean.' 
 
 The long middle aisle was crowded with a throng of men 
 walking to and fro, some alone, some two or three together. 
 Some of them were merchants or retailers, some were country- 
 men looking about them and crying out for the loftiness of the 
 roof and grandeur of the church. But many were young 
 gallants, and those were evidently come to show the splendour 
 of their dress and to mark and follow the newest fashions, 
 which, like women, they learned from each other. 
 
 ' These lads,' said Stow, again echoing my thoughts, ' were 
 also better on board a stout ship bound for the West Indies 
 than at home spending their fortunes on their backs, and their 
 time in pranking before the other gallants. Yet they are 
 young. Folly sits well on the young. In youth we love a 
 brave show, if only to please the maidens. Let us not, like the 
 sour preacher, cry out upon a young man because he glorifies 
 his body by fine raiment. To such a jagg'd and embroidered 
 
TUDOR 233 
 
 sleeve is as bad as the sound of pipe and tabor or the sight of 
 a playhouse. Let them preach. For all their preaching our 
 gallants will still be fine. It is so long since I was young that 
 I have well-nigh forgotten the feeling of youth. It is now their 
 time. For them the fine fashions ; for them the feasting ; for 
 them the love-making ; for us to look on and to remember. At 
 the mutability of the fashion we may laugh, for there is no 
 sense in it, but only folly. To-day the high Alman fashion ; 
 to-morrow the Spanish guise ; the day after, the French. See 
 with what an air they walk : head thrown back, hand on hip, 
 leg advanced. Saw one ever gallants braver or more splendid } 
 No two alike, but each arrayed in his own fashion as seemeth 
 him best, though each would have the highest ruff and the 
 longest rapier. And look at their heads — as many fashions 
 with their hair as with their cloak and doublet. One is polled 
 short ; one has curls : another, long locks down to his shoulders. 
 And some shave their chins ; some have long beards, and some 
 short beards. Some wear ear-rings, and have love-locks. Why 
 not, good sir ? Bones a' me ! Plenty of time to save and 
 hoard when we grow old. The world and the play of the world 
 belong to the young. Let them enjoy the good things while 
 they can.' 
 
 While we were talking in this manner the clock struck 
 the hour of eleven. Instantly there was a general movement 
 toward the doors, and before the last stroke had finished 
 ringing and echoing in the roof the church was empty, save 
 for a few who still lingered and looked at each other dis- 
 consolately. 
 
 * It is the dinner-hour,' said Stow. 
 
 * Then,' said I, ' lead me to some tavern where we may dine 
 at our ease.' 
 
 ' There are many such taverns close to Paul's,' he replied 
 'The Three Tuns in Newgate, the Boar's Head by London 
 Stone, the Ship at the Exchange, the Mermaid in Cornhill, or 
 the Mitre of Chepe. But of late my dinners have been small 
 things, and I know not, what any town gallant could tell you, 
 where to go for the best burnt sack or for sound Rhenish.' 
 
 * The Mitre, then, on the chance.' 
 
 This tavern, a gabled house, stood at the end of a passage 
 leading from Cheapsi(fe, near the corner of Bread Street. The 
 long room spread for dinner was two steps lower than the 
 
234 LONDON 
 
 street, and not too well lighted. A narrow table ran down the 
 middle ; upon it was spread a fair white cloth ; a clean napkin 
 lay for every guest, and a knife. The table was already filled. 
 Loaves of bread were placed at intervals ; they were of various 
 shapes, round and square ; salt was also placed at regular inter- 
 vals. When we entered, the company stood up politely till we 
 had found seats. Then all sat down again. 
 
 We took our seats in a corner, whence we could observe the 
 company. Stow whispered in my ear that this was a shilling 
 ordinary, and one of the best in London, as was proved by the 
 number of guests. * Your city gallant,' he said, ' scents his 
 dinner like a hound, and is never at fault. We shall dine well.' 
 We did dine well ; the boys brought us first roast beef with 
 peas and buttered beans. * This,' said the old man, ' is well — 
 everything in season. At midsummer, beef and beans ; at 
 Michaelmas, fresh herrings ; at All Saints, pork and souse, 
 sprats and spurlings ; in Lent, parsnips and leeks, to soften 
 the saltness of the fish ; at Easter, veal and bacon, or at least 
 gammon of bacon, and tansy cake with stained eggs ; at 
 Martinmas salt beef Let old customs be still maintained. 
 Methinks we are back in the days of bluff King Hal. Well, 
 London was ever a city of plenty. Even the craftsman sits 
 down to his brown bread and bacon and his ale. Harry, bring 
 me a tankard of March beer — and another dish of beef, tell the 
 carver.' 
 
 After the beef, we were served with roast capons and ducks. 
 The absence of forks was partly made up by the use of bread, 
 and no one scrupled to take the bones and suck them or even 
 crunch them. But there was so much politeness and so many 
 compliments passing from one to the other, that those small 
 points passed almost unnoticed, even by my unaccustomed eyes. 
 One quickly learns to think more of the people than of their 
 ways in little things. Apart from their bravery in dress and 
 their habit of compliment, I was struck with the cheerfulness 
 and confidence, even the extravagance, of their talk. Their 
 manner was that of the soldier, sanguine, confident, and rather 
 loud. Some there were who looked ready to ruffle and to 
 swagger. 
 
 The capon was followed by a course of cakes and fruit. 
 Especially, the confection known as march-pane, in which 
 the explorer lights upon filberts, almonds, and pistachio nuts, 
 
TUDOR 
 
 235 
 
 buried in sugared cake, hath left a pleasing memory in my 
 mind. 
 
 Dinner over, the old man, my guide, offered no opposition 
 to a flask of wine, which was brought in a glass measure with 
 sugar thrown in. 
 
 ' For choice/ he said, ' give me malmsey full and fine, 
 
 THE OLD BULL AND MOUTH INN, 
 
 ST. martin's-le-grand 
 {Now pulled doxvii) 
 
 sweetened with sugar. Your French wines arc too thin for my 
 old blood. Boy, bring a clean pipe and tobacco.' 
 
 By this time almost every man in the room was smoking, 
 though some contented themselves with their snuff-boxes. The 
 tables were cleared, the1h)oys ran about setting before every man 
 his cup of wine and taking the reckoning. 
 
236 LONDON 
 
 Tobacco, the old man said, though introduced so recently, 
 had already spread over the whole country, so that most men 
 and many women took their pipe of tobacco every day with as 
 much regularity as their cup of wine or tankard of ale. So 
 widespread was now the practice that many hundreds made a 
 livelihood in London alone by the retailing of this herb. 
 
 * And now,' he said, when his pipe was reduced to ashes, ' let 
 us across the river and see the play at the Globe. The time 
 serves ; we shall be in the house before the second flourish.' 
 
 There was a theatre, he told me on the way, easier of access 
 among the ruins of the Dominicans', or Black Friars', Abbey, 
 but that was closed for the moment. ' We shall learn,' he added, 
 ' the piece that is to be played from the posts of Queenhithe, 
 where we take oars.' In fact, we found the posts at that port 
 placarded with small bills, announcing the performance of 
 ' Troilus and Cressida.' 
 
 GLOBE THEATRE 
 
 Bank Side consisted, I found, of a single row of houses, built 
 on a dyke, or levee, higher both than the river at high-tide and 
 the ground behind the bank. Before the building of the bank 
 this must have been a swamp covered with water at every tide ; 
 it was now laid out in fields, meadows, and gardens. At one 
 end of Bank Side stood the Clink Prison, Winchester House, 
 and St. Mary Overies Church. At the other end was the Falcon 
 Tavern, with its stairs, and behind it was the Paris Gardens. 
 
 The fields were planted with many noble trees, and in every 
 one there was a pond or stagnant ditch which showed the nature 
 of the ground. A little to the west of the Clink and behind the 
 houses stood the Globe Theatre, and close beside it the ' Bull- 
 baiting.' The theatre, erected in the year 1593, was hexagonal 
 externally. It was open in the middle, but the stage and the 
 galleries within were covered over with a thatched roof Over 
 
TUDOR 
 
 237 
 
 the door was the sign of the house — Hercules supporting the 
 globe, with the legend, ' Totus mundus agit histrioiton' 
 
 The interior of the theatre was circular in shape. It con- 
 tained three galleries, one above the other ; the lowest called 
 the * rooms,' for seats in which we paid a shilling each, contained 
 the better sorts. At each side of the stage there were boxes, 
 one of which contained the music. The stage itself, a stout 
 construction of timber, 
 projected far into the 
 pit, or, as Stow called 
 it, the ' yarde.' At the 
 back was another stage, 
 supported on two 
 columns, and giving 
 the players a gallery 
 about ten or twelve feet 
 high, the purpose of 
 which we were very 
 soon to find out. On 
 each side of the slage 
 were seats for those 
 who paid an additional 
 sixpence. Here were a 
 dozen or twenty gal- 
 lants, either with pipes 
 of tobacco, or playing 
 cards or dice before the 
 play began. One of 
 them would get up 
 quickly with a pretence 
 of impatience, and push 
 back his cloak so as 
 to show the richness of 
 
 his doublet below. The young men, whether at the theatre, 
 or in Paul's Walk, or in Chepe, seemed all intent upon showing 
 their bravery of attire ; no girls of our day could be more 
 vain of their dress, or more critical of the dress worn by 
 others. Some of them, however, I perceived among the ground- 
 lings — that is, the people in the ' yarde ' — gazing about the house 
 upon the women in the galleries. Here there were many dressed 
 very finely, like ladies of quality, in satin gowns, lawn aprons, 
 
 INSIDE OF THE RED BULL PLAYHOUSE 
 
238 LONDON 
 
 taffeta petticoats, and gold threads in their hair. They seemed 
 to rejoice in being thus observed and gazed upon. When a 
 young man had found a girl to his taste, he went into the gallery, 
 sat beside her, and treated her to pippins, nuts, or wine. 
 
 It was already one o'clock when we arrived. As we took 
 our seats the music played its first sounding or flourish. There 
 was a great hubbub in the place : hucksters went about with 
 baskets crying pippins, nuts, and ale ; in the ' rooms ' booksellers' 
 boys hawked about new books ; everybody was talking together ; 
 everywhere the people were smoking tobacco, playing cards, 
 throwing dice, cheapening books, cracking nuts, and calling for 
 ale. The music played a second sounding. The hubbub con- 
 tinued unabated. Then it played the third and last. Suddenly 
 the tumult ceased. The piece was about to begin. 
 
 The stage was decorated with blue hangings of silk between 
 the columns, showing that the piece was to be — in part, at least 
 — a comedy. Across the raised gallery at the back was stretched 
 a painted canvas representing a royal palace. When the scene 
 was changed this canvas became the wall of a city, and the actors 
 would walk on the top of the wall ; or a street with houses ; or 
 a tavern with its red lattice and its red sign ; or a tented field. 
 When night was intended, the blue hangings were drawn up 
 and exchanged for black. 
 
 The hawkers retired and were quiet ; the house settled down 
 to listen, and the Prologue began. Prologue appeared dressed 
 in a long black velvet cloak ; he assumed a diffident and most 
 respectful manner : he bowed to the ground. 
 
 In Troy there lies the scene. From Isles of Greece, 
 The princes orgulous, their high blood chaf d, 
 Have to the port of Athens sent their ships. 
 
 In this way the mind of the audience was prepared for what 
 was to follow. We needed no play-bill. The palace before us 
 could be no other than Priam's Palace. If there was a field 
 with tents, it must be the battle-field and the camp of the Greeks ; 
 if there was a wall, it must be the wall of Troy. And though 
 the scenery was rough, it was enough. One wants no more than 
 the unmistakable suggestion ; the poet and the actor find the 
 rest. Therefore, though the intrusive gallants lay on the stage ; 
 though Troilus was dressed in the armour of Tudor time, and 
 Pandarus wore just such a doublet as old Stow himself, we were 
 
TUDOR 239 
 
 actually at Troy. The boy who played Cressida was a lovely 
 maiden. The narrow stage was large enough for the Council of 
 Kings, the wooing of lovers, and the battle-field of heroes. 
 Women unfaithful and perjured, lovers trustful, warriors fierce, 
 the alarms of war, fighting and slaying, the sweet whispers of 
 love drowned by the blare of trumpets ; the loss of lover forgot- 
 ten in the loss of a great captain ; and among the warriors and 
 the kings and the lovers, the creeping creatures who live upon 
 the weaknesses and the sins of their betters, played their parts 
 upon these narrow boards before a silent and enraptured house. 
 For three hours we were kept out of our senses. There was no 
 need, I say, of better scenery ; a quick shifting of the canvas 
 showed a battle-field and turned the stage into a vast plain 
 covered with armies of Greeks and Romans. Soldiers innumer- 
 able, as thick as motes in the sun, crossed the stage fighting, 
 shouting, challenging each other. While they fought, the 
 trumpets blew and the drums beat, the wounded fell, and the 
 fight continued over these prostrate bodies till they were carried 
 off by their friends. The chiefs rushed to the front, crossed 
 swords, and rushed off again. * Come, both you cogging Greeks ! ' 
 said Troilus, while our cheeks fliushed and our lips parted. If 
 the stage had been four times as broad, if the number of men in 
 action had been multiplied by ten, we could not have felt more 
 vividly the rage, the joy, the madness of the battle. 
 
 When the play was finished, the ale, the apples, and the nuts 
 were passed round, and the noise began again. Then the clown 
 came in and began to sing, and the music played — but oh, how 
 poor it seemed after the great emotions of the play ! The old 
 man plucked me by the sleeve and we went out, and with us 
 most of the better sort. 
 
 * The first plays,' said the antiquary, * that ever I saw were 
 those that were played on stages put up in the court-yards of 
 inns, where the galleries afforded place for the audience, and 
 the stage was made of boards laid upon trestles. Tarleton 
 used to play at the Bull Inn, Bishopsgate, and at the Cross 
 Keys, Grasse Street. He was reckoned a famous player, yet 
 compared with those we have seen this day, a fustian mouther, 
 no doubt. Rude plays they were, and rude players ; but I 
 dare say they moved the spectators as much as this fine theatre.' 
 
 Not far from the (?lobe stood another building of circular 
 form, a throng of people pressed about the doors, and a great 
 
240 LONDON 
 
 noise of barking and shouting came from within. * It is the 
 Bull-baiting,* said my guide. * But the place is full of rough 
 men whose wrath is easily moved, and then out come knives 
 and there is a tumult. I am too old for such things. Never- 
 theless, it is a noble sport ; and when you come to whipping 
 the blinded bear, who lately broke away and bit a piece out of 
 a man's thigh — it passes all' He lingered as if he would join 
 in it once more with a little encouragement. Finding none, he 
 walked slowly away to the river bank. 
 
 ' This place,' said Stow, ' hath an ill name, by reason of evil- 
 doers, who were long permitted to live here — a place notorious 
 for three hundred years as the common sink of the city. No 
 reputable citizen would have his country-house and garden on 
 Bank side. Why, there are private gardens all round London 
 as far north as Islington, and as far east as Ratcliffe Cross, but 
 none here. The air fresh and wholesome coming up the river, 
 the ground fertile : see the trees and hedges, how they flourish ; 
 yet is there never a private garden in the place. For this reason 
 the bull-baiting was here, and Paris Gardens with its bears — an' 
 it were Sunday, I would show you the bears — old Harry Hunks 
 and Sackerson. For this reason was the Globe built here, 
 without the city precincts. Where are the theatres and the 
 baitings, the musicians and the shows, thither must gather 
 together the poets, singers, mummers, and all those who live by 
 ministering to the merriment and pleasure of the world. A 
 company of keen wits they arc, their tongues readier than most 
 and their talk bolder. Sober merchants, who think more of the 
 matter and less of the manner, like not such company.' 
 Here the tinkling of a guitar, followed by a burst of laughter, 
 interrupted the discourse. ' I doubt not,' said Stow, ' that we 
 have here — 'tis the Falcon Tavern — a company of wits and 
 poets and players. Let us tarry but the drinking of a single 
 flask. It may be, unless their tongues are more free than is 
 seemly, that we shall be rewarded.' 
 
 The Falcon Inn stood at the western end of Bank Side, 
 at the head of the Falcon stairs. In front a small garden 
 stretched out toward the river. Part of the garden was an 
 arbour, formed by a vine raised on poles, so as to form a roof 
 of leaves. Here was a table placed, and round the table a 
 company of ten or a dozen. At the head of the table was a 
 young gentleman richly dressed. Behind him stood two servants. 
 
TUDOR 
 
 241 
 
 At his right sat a man of about thirty, of large frame and 
 already corpulent, his brown hair short and curly, his beard cut 
 short, his eyes singularly bright. 
 
 * 'Tis Ben Jonson,' whispered Stow. * Let us sit here, 
 
 without the arbour 
 so that we can drink 
 and listen. Ben is but 
 lately out of prison, 
 where he was cast for 
 writing reflections on 
 the Scottish nation. 
 'Twas said that he 
 would lose his ears 
 and have his nose slit, 
 
 SOUTH VIEW OF FALCON TAVERN, 
 ON THE BANK SIDE, SOUTH- 
 WARK, AS IT APPEARED IN 1805 
 
 but the King showed mercy. 
 He at the head of the table 
 is some young nobleman, 
 patron of poets, but, alas ! 
 I live now so retired that I 
 know not his name. On 
 the left of him is William 
 
 Shakespeare, whom some think a better poet than Ben — a quiet 
 man who says little. I l^^ve seen him here before. 'Twas he 
 wrote the piece we have seen this day. He has a share in 
 the theatre of Blackfriars. Burbage, the actor, sits next to 
 • K 
 
242 LONDON 
 
 Shakespeare, and then Alleyn and Hemying opposite, and 
 Henslowe. And there is John Marston, another poet' 
 
 Alleyn it was who held the guitar. At this time he was in 
 the prime of life, not yet forty, his face full of mobility and 
 quickness. He ran his fingers carelessly over the notes, and 
 then began to sing in a clear, high voice : 
 
 'Twas I that paid for all things, 
 
 'Twas others drank the wine ; 
 
 I cannot now recall things. 
 
 Live but a fool to pine. 
 
 'Twas I that beat the bush, 
 
 The bird to others flew ! 
 
 For she, alas ! for she, alas! hath left me. 
 
 Falero— lero— loo ! 
 
 If ever that Dame Nature 
 
 (For this false lover's sake) 
 
 Another pleasant creature 
 
 Like unto her would make, 
 
 Let her remember this, 
 
 To make the other twice ! 
 
 For this, alas ! for this, alas ! hath left me. 
 
 Falero — lero — loo ! 
 
 No riches now can raise me, 
 
 No want make me despair ; 
 
 No misery amaze me, 
 
 Nor yet for want I care. 
 
 I have lost a World itself ; 
 
 My earthly Heaven, adieu ! 
 
 Since she, alas! since she, alas! hath left me. 
 
 Falero — lero— loo ! 
 
 * Sir,' said the young gentleman, * 'tis an excellent song well 
 sung. I drink your health.' 
 
 This he did rising, and very courteously. 
 
 Now, in the talk that followed I observed that, while the 
 players amused by relating anecdotes, Ben Jonson made 
 laughter by what he said, speaking in language which belongs 
 to scholars and to books, and that Shakespeare sat for the most 
 part in silence, yet not in the silence of a blockhead in the 
 presence of wits and when he spoke it was to the purpose. Also 
 
TUDOR . 243 
 
 I remarked that the guitar passed from hand to hand, and that 
 everybody could play and sing, and that the boldness of the talk- 
 showed the freedom of their minds. Who can repeat the un- 
 restrained conversation of a tavern company ? Nay, since some 
 of them were more than merry with the wine, it would be an ill 
 turn to set down what they said. We drank our cups and listened 
 to the talk. 
 
 Presently Ben Jonson himself sang one of his own songs, in 
 a rough, but not unmelodious voice : 
 
 Follow a shadow, it still flies you ; 
 Seem to fly it, it will pursue. 
 So court a mistress, she denies you ; 
 Let her alone — she will court you. 
 Say, are not women truly, then, 
 Styled but the shadows of us men ? 
 
 At morn or even shades are longest, 
 At noon they are or short or none ; 
 So men at weakest, they are strongest, 
 But grant us perfect, they're not known. 
 Say, are not women truly, then. 
 Styled but the shadows of the men ? 
 
 We came away about sunset, or near half-past eight in the 
 evening. Some of the company were by this time merry with 
 their wine, and as we rose one began to bawl an old tavern 
 ditty, drumming on the wood of the guitar with his knuckles : 
 
 There was a Ewe had three lambs, 
 And one of them was blacke ; 
 There was a man had three sons — 
 Jefl"rey, James, and Jack. 
 
 The one was hanged, the other drown'd ; 
 The third was lost and never found ; 
 The old man he fell in a sound — 
 Come fill us a cup of Sacke. 
 
 It was nearly high-tide on the river, which spread itself out 
 full and broad between the banks, reflecting the evening glow in 
 the western sky. Numberless swans floated about the stream. 
 It was also covered with boats. Some were state barges 
 belonging to great peopl?, with awnings and curtains, painted 
 and gilt, filled with ladies who sang as the boat floated quietly 
 
 R 2 
 
244 LONDON 
 
 with the current to the music of guitars. Others were the cockle 
 shell of humble folk. Here was the prentice, taking his sweet- 
 heart out upon the river for the freshness of the evening air ; here 
 the citizen, with his wife and children in a wherry ; here the tilt- 
 boat, with its load of passengers coming up from Greenwich to 
 Westminster. There were also the barges and lighters laden 
 with hay, wool, and grain, waiting for the tide to turn in order 
 to unload at Queenhithe or Billingsgate. 
 
 * This,' said Stow, ' is the best place of any for a prospect of 
 the city. Here we can count the spires and the towers. I know 
 them every one. Look how Paul's rises above the houses. His 
 walls are a hundred feet high. His tower that you see is near 
 three hundred feet high, and his spire, which has been burned 
 down these forty years, was two hundred feet more. Alas, that 
 goodly spire ! It is only from this bank that you can see the 
 great houses along the river. There the ruins of White Friars 
 — there those of the Dominicans. Ruins were they not, but 
 splendid buildings in the days of my youth. Baynard's Castle, 
 the Steel Yard, Cold Harbour, the Bridge — there they stand. 
 The famous city of Venice itself, I dare swear, cannot show so 
 fair a prospect. See, now the sun lights up the windows of 
 Nonesuch on the Bridge — see how the noble structure is reflected 
 in the water below. Good sir,' he turned to me with glowing 
 face and eyes aflame with enthusiasm, ' there is no other city in 
 the whole world, believe me, which may compare with this noble 
 city of London, of which— glory to God 1 — I have been permitted 
 to become the humble historian.' 
 
 We took boat at Falcon stairs - Stow told me there were two 
 thousand boats and three thousand watermen on the river — and 
 we returned to Queenhithe, the watermen shouting jokes and 
 throwing strong words at each other, which seems to be their 
 custom. By the time we landed the sun had gone down. Work 
 for the day was over, and the streets were thronged with people. 
 First, however, it was necessary to think of supper. My guide 
 took me to an old inn in Dowgate ; you entered it as at the 
 Mitre by a long passage. This was the well-known Swan, where 
 we found a goodly company assembled. They seemed to be 
 merchants all ; grave men, not given to idle mirth, so that the 
 conversation was more dull (if more seemly) than at the Falcon. 
 For supper they served us roast pullet with a salad of lettuce, 
 very good, and a flask of right Canary. My ancient guide 
 
TUDOR 245 
 
 swore — * Bones a' me ' — that it contained the very spirit and 
 essence of the Canary grape. * Sir.' he said, * can a man live in 
 London for eighty years and fail to discern good wine from bad ? 
 Why the city drinks up, I believe, all the good wine in the world, 
 Amsterdam is built on piles set in the ooze and mud. London 
 floats on puncheons, pipes, and hogsheads of the best and choicest. 
 This is truly rare Canary. Alas ! I am past eighty. I shall 
 drink but little more.* 
 
 So he drank and warmed his old heart and discussed further, 
 but it would be idle to set down all he said, because most of it 
 is in books, and my desire has been to record only what cannot be 
 found, by the curious, already printed. 
 
 After supper we had more wine and tobacco. Some of the 
 company fell to card-playing, some to dice. Then the door 
 openedj and a man came in with two children, boys, who sang 
 with him while he played the guitar. They sang madrigals 
 very sweetly, each his own part truly and with justice. When 
 they finished, the boys went around with a platter and collected 
 farthings. And having paid our reckoning we went away. 
 
 In the streets outside, the women sat at their doors or stood 
 about gossiping with each other. At every corner a bonfire was 
 merrily burning. This was partly because it was the Vigil of 
 St. John the Baptist, partly because in the city they always lit 
 bonfires in the summer months to purify and cleanse the air. 
 But because of the day every door was shadowed with green 
 branches — birch, long fennel, St. John's wort, orpin, white lilies, 
 and such like — garnished with garlands of beautiful flowers. 
 They had also hung up lamps of coloured glass, with oil to burn 
 all the night, so that the streets looked gay and bright with the red 
 light of the bonfires playing on the tall -gabled fronts, and the 
 red and green light of the lamps. From all the taverns, as we 
 passed, came the sound of music, singing, and revelry, with the 
 clink of glasses and the uplifting of voices thick with wine. 
 There was the sound of music and singing from the private 
 houses. Everywhere singing — everywhere joy and happiness. 
 In the streets the very prentices and their sweethearts danced, 
 to the pipe and tabour, those figures called the Brawl and the 
 Canary, and better dancing, with greater spirit and more fidelity 
 to the steps, had I never before seen. 
 
 At last we stopped once more before the door of John Stow's 
 house. 
 
246 LONDON 
 
 * Sir,' he said, taking my hand, * the time has come to bid you 
 farewell. It has been a great honour — believe me — to converse 
 with one of a generation yet to come, and a great satisfaction to 
 learn that my name will live so long beside those of the poets of 
 this noble age. Many things there are into which 1 would fain 
 have inquired. The looking into futurity is an idle thing, yet I 
 would fain have asked if you have put a new steeple on Paul's ; 
 if you still suffer the desecration of that place ; if London will 
 spread still more beyond her walls ; if her trade will still more 
 increase ; if the Spaniard will be always permitted to hold the 
 Continent of America ; if the Pope will still be reigning ; with 
 many other things. But you came this day to learn, and 1 to 
 teach. When next you come, suffer me in turn to put questions. 
 And now, good sir, farewell. Behold ! ' He raised his hands in 
 admiration. ' I have spent a day — a whole day — with a man of 
 the nineteenth century ! ! Bones a' me ! ! 1 ' 
 
 So he went within and shut the door. 
 
247 
 
 VIIl 
 
 CHARLES THE SECOND 
 
 It is not proposed here to swell with any new groans the general 
 chorus of lamentation over the deplorable morals of King Charles's 
 Court. Let us acknowledge that we want all the available groans 
 for the deplorable morals of our own time. Let us leave severely 
 on one side Whitehall, with the indolent king : his mistresses, 
 his singing boys, his gaming tables, his tinkling guitars, his 
 feasting and his dancing. We will have nothing whatever to do 
 with Chiffinch and his friends, nor with Rochester, nor with Nell 
 Gwynne, nor with Old Rowley himself. Therefore, of course, 
 we can have nothing to do with Messrs. Wycherley, Congreve, 
 and Company. It is, I know, the accepted excuse for these 
 dramatists that their characters are not men and women, but 
 puppets. To my humble thinking they are not puppets at all, 
 but living and actual human creatures — portraits of real men and 
 women who haunted Whitehall. Let us keep to the East of 
 Temple Bar : hither come whispers, murmurs, rumours, of sad 
 doings at Court : sober and grim citizens, still touched with the 
 Puritan spirit, speak of these rumours with sorrow and disap- 
 pointment ; they had hoped better things after the ten years' 
 exile, yet they knew so little and were always ready to believe 
 so well of the king — and his Majesty was always so friendly to 
 the City — that the reports remained mere reports. It is really 
 no use to keep a king unless you are able to persuade yourself 
 that he is wiser, nobler, more virtuous, braver and greater than 
 ordinary mortals. Indeed, as the head and leader of the nation, 
 he is officially the wisest, noblest, bravest, best, and greatest 
 among us, and is so recognised in the Prayer Book. Even those 
 who are about the Court and therefore are so unhappy as to be con- 
 vinced of the exact contrary, do their best to keep up the illusion 
 The great mass of mankind still continue to believe that moral 
 
248 
 
 LONDON 
 
 and intellectual superiority goes with the Crown and belongs to the 
 reigning sovereign. The only change that has come over nations 
 living under the monarchic form of government as regards their 
 view of kings is that they no longer believe all this of the reigning 
 sovereign's predecessor: as regards the present occupant of the 
 Throne, of course. Are the citizens of a Republic similarly con- 
 vinced as regards their President? 
 
 The evil example of the Court, :^,herefore, produced very little 
 effect upon the morals of the City. At first, indeed, the whole 
 nation, tired to death of grave faces, sober clothes, Puritanic 
 austerity, godly talk, downcast eyes, and the intolerable nuisance 
 
 
 PALACE OF WHITEHALL IN THE REIGN OF JAMES II 
 
 of talking and thinking perpetually about the very slender chance 
 of getting into Heaven, rushed into a reckless extreme of brave 
 and even gaudy attire and generous feasting, the twang of the 
 guitar no longer prohibited, nor the singing of love ditties, nor 
 the dancing of the youths and maids forbidden. Even this 
 natural reaction affected only the young. The heart of the City 
 was, and remained for a hundred and fifty years afterwards, 
 deeply affected with the Puritanic spirit. It has been of late 
 years the fashion of the day— led by those who wish to saddle 
 us again with sacerdotalism — to scoff and laugh at this spirit. 
 It has nearly disappeared now, even in America ; but we may 
 
CHARLES THE SECOND 249 
 
 sec in it far more than what has been called the selfish desire of 
 each man to. save his own soul. We may see in it, especially, 
 the spirit of personal responsibility, the loss of which — if we ever 
 do lose it, should authority be able to re-assert her old power — 
 will be fatal to intellectual or moral advance. Personal respon- 
 sibility brings with it personal dignity, enterprise, courage, 
 patience, all the virtues. Only that man who stands face to face 
 with his Maker, with no authority intervening, can be called free. 
 But when the young men of the City had had their fling, in the 
 first rush and whirlpool of the Restoration, they settled down 
 soberly to business again. The foundation of the Hudson's 
 Bay Company proves that the Elizabethan spirit of enterprise 
 was by no means dead. The Institution of the Royal Society, 
 which had its first home in Gresham College, proves that the 
 City thought of other useful things besides money-getting. The 
 last forty years of the seventeenth century, however, might have 
 been passed over as presenting no special points of change, ex- 
 cept in the gradual introduction of tea and coffee. As London 
 was in the time of Elizabeth, so it was, with a few changes, in 
 the time of Charles the Second. A little variation in the costumes ; 
 a little alteration in the hour of dinner ; a greatly extended trade 
 over a much wider world ; and, in all other respects, the same 
 city. 
 
 Two events — two disasters — give special importance to this 
 period. I mean the Plague and the Fire. 
 
 The Plague was the twelfth of its kind which visited the 
 City during a period of seven hundred years. The twelfth and 
 the last. Yet not the worst. That of the year 1407 is said to 
 have killed half the population : that of 15 17, if historians are 
 to be believed in the matter of numbers, which is seldom the 
 case, killed more than half Of all these plagues we hear no 
 more than the bare, dreadful fact, ' Plague — so many thousands 
 killed.' That is all that the chronicles tell us. Since there was 
 no contemporary historian we know nothing more. How many 
 plagues have fallen upon poor humanity, with countless tragedies 
 and appalling miseries, but with no historian ? We know all 
 about the Plague of Athens, the plague of Florence, the Plague 
 of London — the words require no dates — but what of the many 
 other plagues } 
 
 The plague was no new thing ; it was always threatening ; 
 it broke out on board ship ; it was carried about in bales ; it 
 
250 LONDON 
 
 was brought from the Levant with the figs and the spices ; some 
 sailor was striken with it ; reports were constantly flying about 
 concerning it ; now it was at Constantinople ; now at Amster- 
 dam ; now at Marseilles ; now at Algiers ; everybody knew that 
 it might come again at any time. But it delayed : the years 
 went on ; there was no plague ; the younger people ceased to 
 dread it. Then, like the Deluge, which may stand as the type 
 of disaster long promised and foretold, and not to be avoided, 
 yet long delayed, it came at last. And when it went away it 
 had destroyed near upon a hundred thousand people. 
 
 We read the marvellous history of the Plague as it presented 
 itself to the imagination of Daniel Defoe, who wrote fifty years 
 after the event. Nothing ever written in the English language 
 holds the reader with such a grip as his account of the Plague. 
 It seems as if no one at the time could have been able to speak 
 or think of anything but the Plague ; we see the horror of the 
 empty streets ; we hear the cries and lamentations of those who 
 are seized and those who are bereaved. The cart comes slowly 
 along the streets with the man ringing a bell and crying, ' Bring 
 out your dead ! Bring out your dead ! ' We think of the great 
 fosses coimnunes, the holes into which the dead were thrown in 
 heaps and covered with a little earth ; we think of the grass 
 growing in the streets ; the churches deserted ; the clergymen 
 basely flying ; their places taken by the ejected nonconformists 
 who preach of repentence and forgiveness— no time, this, for the 
 Calvinist to number the Elect on his ten fingers - to as many as 
 dare assemble together ; the roads black with fugitives hurrying 
 from the abode of Death ; we hear the frantic mirth of revellers 
 snatching to-night a doubtful rapture, for to-morrow they die. 
 The City is filled with despair. We look into the pale faces of 
 those who venture forth ; we hear the sighs of those who meet ; 
 nobody — nobody, we imagine — can think of aught else than the 
 immediate prospect of death for himself and all he loves. 
 
 Pepys, however, who remained in the City most of the time, 
 not only notes down calmly the progress of the pestilence, but 
 also allows us to see the effect it produced on his own mind. It 
 is very curious. He reads the Bills of Mortality as they are 
 published : he, as well as Defoe, records the silent and deserted 
 appearance of the town : he confesses, now and then, that he is 
 fearful ; but his mind is all the time entirely occupied with his 
 own advancement and his own pleasures. He feasts and drinks 
 
CHARLES THE SECOND 251 
 
 with his friends ; he notes that * we were very merry.' Occasion- 
 ally he betrays a little anxiety, but he is never panic-stricken. 
 
 In an entry of September when the plague was at its height, 
 and the terror and misery of London at their worst, he writes : 
 * To the Tower, and there sent for the weekly Bill, and find 8,252 
 dead in all, and of these 6,978 of the plague, which is a most 
 dreadful number, and shows reason to fear that the plague hath 
 got that hold that it will yet continue among us. Thence to 
 Branford, reading " The Villaine," a pretty good play, all the 
 way. There a coach of Mr. Povy's stood ready for me, and he 
 at his house ready to come in, and so we together merrily to 
 Swakely to Sir R. Viner.' And the same week, hearing that 
 Lord Sandwich with the fleet had taken some prizes — * the 
 receipt of this news did put us all into an ecstasy of joy that it 
 inspired into Sir J. Minner and Mr. Evelyn such a spirit of 
 mirth, that in all my life I never met with so merry a two 
 hours as our company this night was.' Perhaps, however, this 
 excess of mirth was not due to insensibility, but was a natural 
 reaction from the gloom and terror that stalked the streets. 
 
 The summer of 1665 was curiously hot and dry. Every day 
 a blue sky, a scorching sun, and no breath of wind. If bonfires 
 were kindled to purify the air, the smoke ascended and hung 
 overhead in a motionless cloud. From May till September, no 
 wind, no rain, no cloud, only perpetual sunshine to mock the 
 misery of the prostrate city. 
 
 At the first outbreak of the disease, the people began to run 
 away ; the roads were black with carts carrying their necessaries 
 into the country ; the City clergy for the most part deserted 
 their churches ; physicians ran from the disease they could not 
 cure, pretending that they had to go away with their patients ; 
 the Court left Whitehall ; the Courts of Justice were removed to 
 Oxford. The Archbishop of Canterbury, however, remained at 
 Lambeth Palace, and the Duke of Albemarle and Lord Craven 
 remained in their town houses. And the Lord Mayor, Sir John 
 Laurence, ordered that the aldermen, sheriffs, common council- 
 men, and all constables and officers of the City should remain 
 at their posts. 
 
 As the plague increased, business of all kinds was sus- 
 pended ; works were^closed ; ships that arrived laden, went 
 down the river again and across to Amsterdam ; ships that 
 waited for their cargoes lay idle in the Pool by hundreds ; shops 
 
252 LONDON 
 
 were shut ; manufactories and industries of all kinds were 
 stopped. 
 
 Consider what this means. London was not only a city of 
 foreign trade and a great port, but a city, also, of many indus- 
 tries. It made an enormous quantity of things ; the very liveli- 
 hood of the City was derived from its trade and its industries ; 
 These once stopped, the City perished. We have seen how the 
 Roman Augusta decayed and died. The people had no longer 
 any trade or any work, or any food. Therefore, the City died. 
 The same thing, from different causes, happened again. Trade 
 and work were suspended. Therefore, the people began to 
 starve. 
 
 Defoe, in his cataloguing way, which is the surest way of 
 bringing a thing home to every one's understanding, enumerates 
 all the different trades thrown out of work. That is to say, he 
 catalogues all the trades of London. Let it be understood that 
 the population of London was then about 350,000. This means 
 about 100,000 working men of sixteen and upwards. All these 
 craftsmen, living from week to week upon their wages, with 
 nothing saved, were turned out of employment almost at the 
 same time ; they and their families left to starve. Not only this, 
 but clerks, book-keepers, serving men, footmen, maidservants 
 and apprentices, were all turned into the streets together. Add 
 to this the small shopkeepers and retailers of every kind, who 
 live by their daily or weekly takings, and we shall have a popu- 
 lation of a quarter of a million to keep. 
 
 The Lord Mayor, assisted by the Archbishop and the two 
 Lords, Albemarle and Craven, began and maintained a service 
 of relief for these starving multitudes. The king sent a thousand 
 pounds a week ; the City gave six hundred pounds a week ; 
 merchants and rich people sent thousands every week ; it is said 
 that a hundred thousand pounds a week was contributed ; this 
 seems too great a sum — yet a whole city out of work ! Employ- 
 ment was found for some of the men as constables, drivers of the 
 carts that carried the dead to the burial places, and so forth — 
 and for the women as nurses. And, thanks to the Mayor's 
 exertions, there was a plentiful supply of provisions during the 
 whole time. 
 
 The disease continued to spread. It was thought that dogs 
 and cats carried about infection. All those in the City were 
 slaughtered. They even tried, for the same reason, to poison 
 
CHARLES THE SECOND 
 
 253 
 
 the rats and mice, but apparently failed. The necessity of going 
 to market was a great source of danger : people were warned to 
 lift their meat off the counter by iron hooks. Many families 
 isolated themselves. The journal of one such household remains. 
 
 The household which lived in 
 Wood Street, Cheapside, con- 
 sisted of the master, a wholesale 
 grocer, his wife, five children, 
 two maidservants, two appren- 
 tices, a porter and a boy. He 
 sent the boy to his friends in 
 the country ; he gave the elder 
 apprentice the rest of his time ; 
 and he stationed his porter, 
 Abraham, outside his door, there 
 
 HUNGERFORD MARKET 
 
 to sit night and day. Every window was closed, and nothing 
 suffered to enter the house except at one upper window, which 
 was opened to admit^necessaries, but only with fumigation of 
 gunpowder. At first the plague while it raged about Holborn, 
 
254 
 
 LONDON 
 
 Fleet Street, and the Strand, came not within the City. This 
 careful man, however, fully expected it, and when it did appear 
 in July, he locked himself up for good. Then they knew 
 nothing except what the porter told them, and what they read 
 in the Bills of Mortality. But all day long the knell never 
 ceased to toll. Very soon all the houses in the street were 
 infected and visited except their own. And when every day, 
 and all day long, he heard nothing but bad news, growing 
 daily worse, and when every night he heard the dismal bell 
 and the rumbling of the dead cart, and the voice of the bell- 
 man crying, ' Bring out your dead ! ' he began to give up all 
 for lost. First, however, he made arrangements for the isola- 
 
 CHEAPSIDE 
 
 tion of any one who should be seized. Three times a day they 
 held a service of prayer ; twice a week they observed a day of 
 fasting ; one would think that this maceration of the flesh was 
 enough in itself to invite the plague. Every morning the father 
 rose early and went round to each chamber door asking how its 
 inmates fared. When they replied, ' Well,' he answered ' Give 
 God thanks.' Outside, Abraham sat all day long, hearing from 
 every passer-by the news of the day which grew more and more 
 terrifying, and passing it on to the upper window where it was 
 received with a fiery fumigation. One day Abraham came not. 
 But his wife came. ' Abraham,' she said, * died of the plague 
 this morning, and as for me, I have it also, and I am going home 
 to die. But first I will send another man to take my husband's 
 
CHARLES THE SECOND 
 
 255 
 
 place' So the poor faithful woman crept home and died, and 
 that night with her husband was thrown into a great pit with no 
 funeral service except the cursing and swearing of the rough 
 fellows who drove the cart. The other man came, but in a day 
 or two he also sickened and died. Then they had no porter and 
 
 FLEET STREET 
 
 no way of communicating with the outer world. They remained 
 prisoners, the whole family, with the two maids, for five long 
 months. I suppose they must have devised some necessary 
 communication with me outer world, or they would have 
 starved. 
 
256 LONDON 
 
 Presently the plague began to decrease : its fury was spent 
 But it was not until the first week of December that this citizen 
 ventured forth. Then he took all his family to Tottenham for 
 change of air. One would think they needed it after this long 
 confinement, and the monotony of their prison fare. 
 
 By this time the people were coming back fast — too fast ; 
 because their return caused a fresh outbreak. Then there was a 
 grand conflagration of everything which might harbour the 
 plague — curtains, sheets, blankets, hangings, stuffs, clothes — 
 whatever there was in which the accursed thing might linger. 
 And every house in which a case had occurred was scoured and 
 whitewashed, while the churchyards were all covered with fresh 
 earth at least a foot thick. 
 
 All this is a twice-told tale. But some tales may be told 
 again and again. Consider, for instance, apart from the horror 
 of this mighty pestilence, the loss and injury inflicted upon the 
 City. If it is true that a hundred thousand perished, about half 
 of them would be the craftsmen, the skilled workmen who created 
 most of the wealth of London. How to replace these men ? 
 They could never be replaced. 
 
 Consider, again, that London was the great port for the re- 
 ception and transmission of all the goods in the whole country. 
 The stoppage of trade in London meant the stoppage of trade 
 over the whole land. The cloth-makers of the West, the iron- 
 founders, the colliers, the tin miners, the tanners, all were stopped, 
 all were thrown out of work. 
 
 Again, consider the ruin of families. How many children of 
 flourishing master workmen, tradesmen, and merchants, were 
 reduced to poverty by the death of the father, and suddenly 
 lowered to the level of working-men, happy if they were still 
 young enough to learn a craft ? How many lost their credit in 
 the general stoppage of business } How many fortunes were 
 cast away when no debts could be collected, and when the 
 debtors themselves were all destroyed ^ And in cases when 
 children were too young to protect themselves, how many were 
 plundered of everything when their parents were dead ? 
 
 Defoe, writing what he had learned by conversation with 
 those who could remember this evil time, speaks of strange ex- 
 travagances on the part of those who were infected. Very 
 likely there were such things. Not, however, that they were 
 common, as his story would have us believe. I prefer the 
 
CHARLES THE SECOiND 
 
 25r 
 
 picture of the imprisoned citizen, which represents a city sitting 
 in sorrowful silence, the people crouching in their houses in silence 
 or in prayer, gazing helpless upon each other, while the blue sky 
 and the hot sun look down upon them and the plague grows 
 busier every day. 
 
 When it abated at last, and the runaways went back to 
 town, Pepys among them, he notes the amazing number of 
 beggars. These poor creatures were the widows or children of 
 
 BELOW BRTDG1! 
 
 the craftsmen, or the craftsmen themselves whose ruin we have 
 just noted. 
 
 This was in January. The plague, however, dragged on. In 
 the week ending March i, 1666, there were forty-two deaths from 
 it. In the month of July, it was still present in London, and 
 reported to be raging at Colchester. In August Pepys finds the 
 house of one of his friends in Fenchurch Street shut up with the 
 plague, and it was said to be as bad as ever at Greenwich. This 
 pwas the last entry about it because in a week or two there was 
 to happen an event of even greater importance than this great 
 Plague. 
 
 * S 
 
258 LONDON 
 
 Observe that this was the last appearance of the Plague. 
 Since 1665 it has never appeared in Europe, except in Mar- 
 seilles in the year 1720. It is not extinct. It smoulders, like 
 Vesuvius. There is nothing, so far as can be understood, to 
 prevent its reappearance in London or anywhere else, unless it 
 is the improved sanitation of modern cities. For instance it 
 was at Astrakhan in 1879. But it travelled no further west. It 
 is generated in the broad miasmatic valley of the Euphrates ; 
 there it lies, ready to be carried about the world, the last gift of 
 Babylon to the nations. When that great city is built again, the 
 centre of commerce between Europe and the East, the valley 
 will once more be drained and cultivated, and the Plague will 
 die and be no more seen. But who is to rebuild Babylon and 
 to repeople the land of the Assyrians ? 
 
 There were two great plagues of London in the seventeenth 
 century before this — the last and greatest — one in 1603 3-^^ the 
 other in 1625. I have before me two contemporary tracts upon 
 these plagues. They illustrate what has been said of the plague 
 of 1665. Exactly the same things happened. In listening 
 either to him of 1603, or to him of 1625, one hears the voice of 
 1665. I think that these tracts have never before been quoted. 
 Yet it quite clear to me that Defoe must have seen them 
 both. 
 
 The first is called ' The Wonderful Year, 1603.' The author, 
 who is anonymous, begins with weeping over the death of 
 Queen Elizabeth. This tribute paid, with such exaggerated 
 grief as belongs to his sense of loyalty, he rejoices, with equal 
 extravagance, over the accession of James. This brings him to 
 his real subject. 
 
 A stiffe and freezing horror sucks vp the riuers of my blood : my 
 haire stands an ende with the panting of my braines : mine eye balls 
 are ready to start out, being beaten with the billowes of my teares : out 
 of my v>reeping pen does the inke mournfully and more bitterly than gall 
 drop on the pale-faced paper, even when I do but thinke how the bowels 
 of my sicke country have bene torne. Apollo, therefore, and you be- 
 witching siluer-tongd Muses, get you gone : I inuocate none of your 
 names. Sorrow and truth, sit you on each side of me, whilst I am de- 
 livered of this deadly burden : prompt me that I may utter ruthfull and 
 passionate condolement : arme my trembling hand, that I may boldly 
 rip up and anatomize the ulcerous body of this Anthropophagized YXixgViQ: 
 lend me art (without any counterfeit shadowing) to paint and delineate 
 
CHARLES THE SECOND 259 
 
 to the life the whole story of this mortall and pestiferous battaile. And 
 you the ghosts of those more (by many) than 40000, that with the 
 virulent poison of infection haue bene driuen out of your earthly dwel- 
 lings : you desolate hand-wringing widowes, that beate your bosomes 
 over your departing husbands : you wofuUy distracted mothers that 
 with disheueld haire falne into swounds, while you lye kissing the in- 
 sensible cold lips of your breathlesse infants : you out-cast and down- 
 troden orphans, that shall many a yeare hence remember more freshly 
 to mourne, when your mourning garments shall looke olde and be for- 
 gotten ; and you the Genii of all those emptyed families, whose habita- 
 tions are now among the Antipodes ; joine all your hands together, and 
 with your bodies cast a ring about me ; let me behold your ghastly 
 vizages, that my paper may receiue their true pictures : £cc/io forth 
 your grones through the hollow trunke of my pen, and raine downe your 
 gummy teares into mine incke, that even marble bosomes may be shaken 
 with terrour, and hearts of adamant melt into compassion. 
 
 In this extravagant vein he plunges into the subject. 
 Death, he says, like stalking Tamberlaine, hath pitched his tent 
 in the suburbs ; the Plague is muster-master and marshal of the 
 field ; the main army is a ' mingle-mangle ' of dumpish mourners, 
 merry sextons, hungry coffin-sellers, and nastie grave-makers. 
 All who could run away, he says, did run : some riding, some on 
 foot, some without boots, some in slippers, by water, by land — 
 'in shoals swom they.' Then the plague invaded the city. 
 Every house looked like Bartholomew's Hospital ; the people 
 drank mithridatum and dragon-water all day long ; they stuffed 
 their ears and noses with rue and wormwood. Lazarus lay at the 
 door, but Dives was gone ; there were no dogs in the streets, for 
 the plague killed them ail ; whole families were carried to the 
 grave as if to bed. ' What became of our Phisitions in this 
 massacre ? They hid their synodical heads as well as the 
 prowdest ; for their phlebotomes, losinges, and electuaries, with 
 their diacatholicons, diacodions, amulets, and antidotes had not 
 so much strength to hold life and soule together as a pot of 
 Pindar's ale and a nutmeg.' When servants and prentices were 
 attacked by the disease, they were too often thrust out of doors 
 by their masters and perished * in fields, in ditches, in common 
 cages and under stalls.' Then he begins to tell the gruesome 
 stories that belong to every time of plague. In this he is 
 followed by Defoe, wh8 most certainly saw this pamphlet. 
 What happened in 1603 also happened in 1665. Those who 
 
 A S2 
 
26o LONDON 
 
 could run away did so ; the physicians — who could do nothing — 
 ran ; the rich merchants ran ; there was a general stoppage of 
 trade ; there was great suffering among the poor ; those who 
 dared to sit together, sat in the taverns drinking till they lost 
 their fears. His stories told, the writer concludes : — 
 
 I could fill a whole uolume, and call it the second part of the hundred 
 mery tales, onely with such ridiculous stuffe as this of the Justice; but 
 Dii 7neliora ; I haue better matters to set my wits about : neither shall 
 you wring out of my pen (though you lay it on the racke) the villainies 
 of that damnd Keeper, who killd all she kept ; it had bene good to haue 
 made her Keeper of the common Jayle, and the holes of both Counters; 
 for a number lye there that wish to be rid out of this motley world ; 
 shee would haue tickled them and turned them ouer the thumbs. I 
 will likewise let the Church- warden in Thames-street sleep (for hees now 
 past waking) who being requested by one of his neighbors to suffer his 
 wife or child (that was then dead) to lye in the Church-yard, answered 
 in a mocking sort, he keept that lodging for himselfe and his houshold: 
 and within three days after was driuen to hide his head in a hole him- 
 self Neither will I speake a word of a poore boy (seruant to a Chandler) 
 dweUing thereabouts, who being struck to the heart by sicknes, was 
 first caryed away by water, to be left anywhere ; but landing being 
 denyed by an army of brownebill men, that kept the shore, back againe 
 was he brought, and left in an out celler, where lying groueling and 
 groaning on his face, among fagots (but not one of them set on fire to 
 comfort him), there continued all night, and dyed miserably for want of 
 succor. Nor of another poore wretch, in the Parish of St. Mary Oueryes, 
 who being in the morning throwne, as the fashion is, into agraue vpona 
 heap of carcases, that kayd for their complement, was found in the 
 afternoone gasping and gaping for life : but by these tricks, imagining 
 that many thousand haue bene turned wrongfully off the ladder of life, 
 and praying that IJerick, or his executors, may Hue to do those a good 
 turne, that haue done so to others : Hk finis Priami ; heeres an end 
 of an old song. 
 
 The second tract was written by one whose Christian name 
 is surely Jeremiah. It is called ' Vox Civitatis.' It is the Lamen- 
 tation of London under the Plague. The city mourns her 
 departed merchants. * Issachar stands still for want of work.' 
 Her children are starving ; her apprentices, * the children of 
 knights and justices of the county,' are rated with beggars, and 
 buried in the highway like malefactors. As for the clergy, they 
 did not forsake their flocks ; they sent them away — all who 
 could go — before they themselves fled. The physicians and the 
 
CHARLES THE SECOND 261 
 
 surgeons have fled. Yet some have remained — parsons, physi- 
 cians, and surgeons. The Lord Mayor, too, remained at his post 
 Then he argues that no one, in whatever station, has the right 
 to desert his post. None are useless. He declaims against the 
 inhumanity of those who refuse shelter to a stricken man, and 
 he calls upon those who have food to return. The whole com- 
 position is filled with pious ejaculations ; it certainly is the work 
 of some city clergyman. London is stricken for her sins ; yet 
 there is mercy in the chastisement. The author is always 
 finding consolation in the thought that the punishment will 
 lead to reformation. Yet the work is a cry of suffering, of 
 pity, and of indignation. The writer does not relate, he 
 alludes to what everybody knows ; yet he makes us see the 
 workshops closed, 'Change deserted, churches shut, all the better 
 class fled, prentices thrust out to die in the streets, the people 
 with no work and no money, the servants left to guard the 
 warehouses dead ; even in Cheapside not a place where one 
 can change a purse of gold ; ' Watling Street like an empty 
 Cloyster.' The plague is terrible, but it is the chastisement of 
 the Lord. He hath taken the city into His own hands ; that 
 may be borne ; the worst, the most terrible thing is the deser- 
 tion of the city and the people by the masters ; the abandon- 
 ment of those dependent upon their employers — this is the 
 burden of the cry. To those who study the gleams and glimpses 
 of plague-time in these papers, the worst suffering in every 
 time of pestilence was caused by the cessation of work and of 
 trade. The master gone, the servants had no work and no 
 wages — how were the children to be fed ? 
 
 With one little touch of human nature the tract concludes. 
 The writer was a scholar ; he is jealous concerning his style. * If,' 
 he says, ' this Declaration wants Science, or that Eloquence that 
 might beseem me, consider my Trouble, the Absence of my 
 Orators, the shutting up of my Libraries," so that I was 
 content with a common Secretary.' It is Vox Civitatis — London 
 that speaks ; her libraries are those of St. Paul's, Sion College, 
 Gresham College, Whittington College ; the * common Secretary' 
 is the writer. Such is his proud humility — a 'common 
 Secretary ' 1 
 
 Now for another twi^-told tale. 
 
 The last cross had not been removed from the last in- 
 
262 LONDON 
 
 fccted house, the last person dead of the plague had not been 
 buried, before the Great Fire of London broke out and purged 
 the plague-stricken city from end to end. 
 
 Three great fires had destroyed London before this of the 
 year 1666, viz. in 962, in 1087, which swept away nearly the 
 whole of the City, and in 12 12, when a great part of Southwark 
 and of the City north of the Bridge was destroyed. 
 
 This fire began early in the morning of Sunday, September 
 the second. It broke out at the house of one Farryner, a baker 
 in Pudding Lane, Thames Street. All the houses in that lane, 
 and, one supposes, in all the narrow lanes and courts about this 
 part of the City, were of wood pitched without ; the lane was 
 narrow, and the projecting stories on either side nearly met at 
 the top. The baker's house was full of faggots and brushwood, 
 so that the fire instantly broke out into full fury and spread 
 four ways at once. The houses stood very thick in this, the 
 most densely populated part of the City. In the narrow lanes 
 north and south of Thames Street lived those who made their 
 living as stevedores, watermen, porters, carriers, and so forth ; 
 in Thames Street itself, on either side, were warehouses filled 
 with oil, pitch and tar, wine, brandy, and such inflammable 
 things, so that by six o'clock on Sunday morning all Fish 
 Street was in flames, and the fire spreading so fast that the 
 people barely had time to remove their goods. As it drew 
 near to a house they hurriedly loaded a cart with the more 
 valuable effects and carried them off to another house farther 
 away, and then to another, and yet another. Some placed 
 their goods in churches for safety, as if the flames would respect 
 a consecrated building. The booksellers, for instance, of Pater- 
 noster Row, carried all their books into the crypt of St. Paul's, 
 thinking that there at least, vrould be a safe place, if any in the 
 whole world. Who could look at those strong stone pillars 
 with the strong arched roof and suspect that the stones would 
 crumble like sand beneath the fierce heat which was playing 
 upon them. All that Sunday was spent in moving goods out 
 of houses before the flames caught them ; the river was covered 
 with barges and lighters laden with furniture. Pepys watched 
 the fire from Bankside. ' We stayed till, it being darkish, we 
 saw the fire as only one entire arch of fire from this to the 
 other side of the bridge and in a bow up the hill for an arch of 
 above a mile long ; it made me weep to see it. The churches, 
 
CHARLES THE SECOND 
 
 263 
 
 houses, and all on fire, and flaming at once ; and a horrid noise 
 the flames made, and the crackling of houses at their ruin.'* On 
 Monday morning Pepys put his bags of gold and his plate into a 
 cart, with all his best things and drove ofl" to Sir William Rider's, 
 at Bethnal Green. His friend, Sir W. Batten, not knowing how 
 
 OLD EAST INDIA HOUSE 
 
 to move his wine, dug a pit in his garden and put it there. In 
 this pit also Pepys placed the papers of the Admiralty. 
 
 On Wednesday he walked into the town over the hot ashes. 
 Fenchurch Street, Gracechurch Street, Lombard Street, Cheap- 
 side, he found in dust. Of the Exchange nothing standing of 
 all the statues but that of Sir Thomas Gresham — a strange 
 survival. On Saturday he went to see the ruins of St Paul's :^ 
 
264 
 
 LONDON 
 
 * A miserable sight ; all the roofs fallen, and the body of the 
 Quire fallen into St. Faith's ; Paul's school, also Ludgate and 
 Fleet Street.' 
 
 The fire was stayed at length by blowing up houses at the 
 Temple Church, at Pie Corner, Smithfield (where the figure of a 
 boy still stands to commemorate the fact), at Aldersgate, 
 Cripplegate, and the upper part of Bishopsgate Street. It had 
 consumed five-sixths of the city, together with a great piece be- 
 yond the western gates. It had covered an area of 436 acres, 
 viz. 387 acres within the walls, and 73 without ; it had destroyed 
 i3^/)00 dwelling-houses, St. Paul's Cathedral, eighty-nine parish 
 churches, four of the City gates, Sion College, the Royal 
 Exchange, the old Grey P'riars Church, the Chapel of St. 
 
 ^ Thomas of Aeon, and 
 
 an immense number of 
 great houses, schools, 
 prisons, and hospitals. 
 The area covered, 
 roughly speaking, an ob- 
 long nearly a mile and 
 a half in length by half 
 a mile in breadth. The 
 value of the property 
 destroyed was estimated 
 at ten millions. There 
 is no such fire of any 
 great city on record, unless it is the burning of Rome under 
 Nero. 
 
 Their city being thus destroyed, the citizens lost no time but 
 set to work manfully to rebuild it. The rebuilding of London is 
 a subject of some obscurity. One thing is quite certain, that as 
 soon as the embers were cool enough to enable the people to 
 walk among them, they returned, and began to find out the sites 
 of their former houses. It is also certain that it took more than 
 two years to clear away the tottering walls and the ruins. 
 
 It was at first proposed to build again on a new plan ; Sir 
 Christopher Wren prepared one plan, and John Evelyn another. 
 Both plans were excellent, symmetrical and convenient. Had 
 either been adopted the City of London would have been as 
 artificial and as regular as a new American town, or the city of 
 Turin. Very happily, while the Lord Mayor and Aldermen 
 
 SION COLLEGE 
 
CHARLES THE SECOND 
 
 265 
 
 were considering the matter, the people had already begun to 
 build. A most fortunate thing it was that the City rose again 
 on its old lines, with its winding streets and narrow lanes. At 
 first, the houseless people, two hundred thousand in number, 
 camped out in Moorfields, just north of the City. Very happily 
 these fields, which had long been a swamp or fen intersected by 
 ditches, a place of pasture, kennels, and windmills, had been 
 drained by the City in 1606, and were now laid out in pleasant 
 walks, a place of resort for summer evenings, a wrestling and 
 cudgel playing ground, and a ground for the muster of the 
 
 ziJmt 
 
 JOHN BUN van's MEETING-HOUSE IN ZOAR STREET 
 
 militia. Here they set up tents and cottages ; here they pre- 
 sently began to build two-storeyed houses of brick. 
 
 As they had no churches they set up ' tabernacles,' whether 
 on the site of the old churches or in Moorfields does not appear. 
 As they had no Exchange they used Gresham College for the 
 purpose ; the same place did duty for the Guildhall ; the Excise 
 Office was removed to Southampton Fields, near Bedford House ; 
 the General Post Office was taken to Brydges Street, Covent 
 Garden ; the Custom House to Mark Lane ; Doctors' Commons 
 to Exeter House, Strand. The part of the town wanted for the 
 shipping and foreign trade was first put up. And thus the town, 
 in broken-winged fashion, renewed its old life. 
 
 On September 18, the Houses of Parliament created a Court 
 
266 
 
 LONDON 
 
 of Judicature for settling the differences which were sure to arise 
 between landlord and tenants, and between owners of land, as 
 to boundaries and other things. The Justices of the Court of 
 King's Bench and Common Pleas, with the Barons of the 
 Exchequer were the judges of the Court. So much satisfaction 
 did they give, that the grateful City caused their portraits to be 
 placed in Guildhall, where, I believe, they may be seen to this 
 day. 
 
 In order to enable the churches, prisons, and public buildings 
 to be rebuilt, a duty was laid upon coals. This duty was also 
 to enable the City to enlarge the streets, take over ground for 
 quays and other useful purposes. Nothing, however, seems to 
 have been granted for the rebuilding of private houses. 
 
 OLD grocers' hall, USED FOR BANK OF ENGLAND 
 
 The building of the churches took a longtime to accomplish. 
 The first to be completed was that of St. Dunstan's in the East, 
 the tower of which is Sir Christopher Wren's ; the body of the 
 church, which has since been pulled down, was by another hand. 
 That was built two years after the Fire. Six years after the 
 Fire another church was finished ; seven years after three more ; 
 eight years after three more ; ten years after five, and so on, 
 dragging along until the last two of those rebuilt — for a great 
 many were not put up again — were finished in the year 1697, 
 thirty-one years after the Fire. 
 
 Within four years the rebuilding of the City was nearly 
 completed. Ten thousand houses were built, a great many 
 companies' halls, and nearly twenty churches. One who writes 
 
CHARLES THE SECOND 269 
 
 drafts to honour. Debts as well as property were all destroyed 
 together. The money-lender and the borrower were destroyed 
 together. The schools were closed — for how long ? The alms- 
 houses were burned down — what became of the poor old bedes- 
 men and bedeswomen ? The City charities were suspended — 
 what became of the poor ? The houses were destroyed — what 
 became of rents and tithes and taxes ? 
 
 The fire is out at last ; the rain has quenched the last sparks ; 
 the embers have ceased to smoke ; those walls which have not 
 fallen totter and hang trembling ready to fall. I see men 
 standing about singly ; the tears run down their cheeks ; two 
 hundred years ago, if we had anything to cry about, we were 
 not ashamed to cry without restraint ; they are dressed in broad- 
 cloth, the ruffles are of lace, they look like reputable citizens. 
 Listen — one draws near another. ' Neighbour,' he says, * a fort- 
 night ago, before this stroke, whether of God or of Papist, I had 
 a fair shop on this spot' * And I also, good friend,' said the 
 other, * as you know.' * My shop,' continued the first, ' was 
 stocked with silks and satins, kid gloves, lace ruffles and neck- 
 ties, shirts, and all that a gentleman or a gentlewoman can ask 
 for. The stock was worth a thousand pound. I turned it over 
 six or seven times a year at least. And my profit was four 
 hundred pounds.' * As for me,' said the other, ' I was in a 
 smaller way, as you know. Yet such as it was, my fortune was 
 all in it, and out of my takings I could call two hundred pounds 
 a year my own.' ' Now is it all gone,' said the first. ' All gone,' 
 the other repeated, fetching a sigh. ' And now, neighbour, 
 unless the Company help, I see nothing for it but we must 
 starve.* * Must starve,' the other repeated. And so they 
 separated, and went divers ways, and whether they starved or 
 whether they received help, and rose from the ashes with new 
 house and newly stocked shop, I know not. Says Dryden on the 
 Fire : — 
 
 Those who have homes, when home they do repair 
 To a last lodging call their wandering friends : 
 
 Their short uneasy sleeps are broke with care 
 To look how near their own destruction tends. 
 
 Those who have none sit round where it was 
 And with full eyes each wonted room require : 
 
 Haunting the ^et warm ashes of the place, 
 As murdered men walk where they did expire; 
 
2;o LONDON 
 
 The most in fields like herded beasts lie down, 
 
 To dews obnoxious on the grassy floor : 
 And while their babes in sleep their sorrow drown, 
 
 Sad parents watch the remnant of their store. 
 
 I think there must have been a return for a while to a primi- 
 tive state of barter and exchange. Not quite, because every 
 man carried out of the Fire such money a^ he had. Pepys, for 
 instance, placed his bags of gold in a cart and drove it himself, 
 * in my night gown,' to a friend at rural riethnal Green. But 
 there could have been very little money in Comparison with the 
 millions invested in the merchandise destroyed. 
 
 The most pressing want was food. The better sort had 
 money enough for present needs, the poorer class had to be 
 maintained. The Corporation set thousands to work clearing 
 rubbish, carting it away, pulling down the shaky walls, and 
 throwing open the streets. When the quays were cleared, the 
 business of the Port was resumed. Then the houses and the 
 shops began to rise. The former were built on credit and the 
 latter stocked on credit. Very likely the Companies or the 
 Corporation itself became to a large extent security, advancing 
 money to the builders and making easy terms about rent. 
 Naturally, it was a time of enormous activity, every trader 
 making up for lost time, and especially such trades as concerned 
 the building, furnishing, or fitting of houses — a time of good 
 wages and constant work. Indeed, it is stated that the pros- 
 perity of the West Country cloth-making business was never so 
 great as during the years following the fire which had destroyed 
 such a prodigious quantity of material. The City in time re- 
 sumed its old aspect ; the ruined thousands had sunk out of 
 sight ; and nothing could replace the millions that had been 
 lost. 
 
 The manners of the City differed little in essentials from 
 those of Queen Elizabeth's time. Let us note, however, two or 
 three points, still keeping the unspeakable Court out of sight, 
 and confining ourselves as much as possible to the City. Here 
 are a few notes which must not be taken as a finished picture of 
 the time. 
 
 It was a great time for drinking. Even grave divines drank 
 large quantities of wine. Pepys is constantly getting ' foxed ' 
 with drink ; on one occasion he is afraid of reading evening 
 
CHARLES THE SECOND 271 
 
 prayers lest the servants should discover his condition. Of 
 course they did discover it, and went to bed giggling ; but as 
 they kept no diary the world never learned it. London drank 
 freely. Pepys tells how one lady, dining at Sir W. Bullen's, 
 drank at one draught a pint and a half of white wine. They all 
 went to church a great deal, and had fast days on every occasion 
 of doubt and difficulty ; on the first Sunday in the year the 
 longest Psalm in the Book (I suppose the 119th) was given out 
 after the sermon. This took an hour to say or sing, and all the 
 while the Sexton went about the church making a collection. 
 On Valentine's Day the married men took each other's wives 
 for valentines. Public wrestling matches were held, followed by 
 bouts with the cudgels. 
 
 They still carried on the sports of bull and bear baiting, and 
 on one occasion they baited a savage horse to death. That is, 
 they attempted it, but he drove off all the dogs, and the people 
 insisting on his death, they stabbed him to death. The king 
 issued two patents for theatres, one to Henry Killigrew, at Drury 
 Lane, whose company called themselves the king's servants ; 
 the other to Sir William Davenant, of Dorset Gardens, whose 
 company were the duke's servants. There were still some 
 notable superstitions left These are illustrated by the remedies 
 advertised for the plague and other diseases. A spider, for in- 
 stance, placed in a nutshell and wrapped in silk will cure ague. 
 They believed in the malignant influence of the planets. One 
 evening at a dancing house half a dozen boys and girls were 
 taken suddenly ill. Probably they had swallowed some poison- 
 ,ous stuff. They were supposed to be planet-struck. And, of 
 course, they believed in astrology and in chiromancy, the latter 
 of which has again come into fashion. 
 
 Saturday was the day of duns. Creditors then went about 
 collecting their money. In the autumn the merchants rode 
 . out into the country and looked after their country customers. 
 
 The social fabric of the time cannot be understood without 
 remembering that certain nominal distinctions of our generation 
 were then real things, and gave a man consideration. Thus, 
 there were no peers left living in the City. But there were a 
 few Baronets and many Knights. After them in order came 
 Esquires, Gentlemen, and commoners. Those were entitled to 
 the title of Esquire wJfo were gentlemen of good estate, not 
 otherwise dignified, counscllors-at-law, physicians and holders 
 
272 LONDON 
 
 of the king's commission. Everybody remembers Pepys' delight 
 at being for the first time, then newly made Secretary to the 
 Admiralty, addressed as Esquire, and his irrepressible pride at 
 being followed into church by a page. A younger brother 
 could call himself a gentleman, and this, I take it, whether he 
 was in trade or not. About this time, however, younger sons 
 began leaving off going to the City and embarking in trade, and 
 that separation of the aristocracy from the trade of the country, 
 which made the former a distinct caste and has lasted almost 
 until the present day, first began. It is now, however, so far as 
 one can perceive the signs of the times, fast disappearing. The 
 younger son, in fact, began to enter the army, the navy, or the 
 Church. From the middle of the seventeenth century till the 
 battle of Waterloo, war in Europe was almost continuous. A 
 gentleman could offer his sword anywhere and was accepted. 
 There were English gentlemen in the service of Austria, Russia, 
 Sweden— even in that of France or Spain. Unfortunately, how- 
 ever, in this country we generally had need of all the gentlemen 
 we could find to command our own armies. The title of gentle- 
 man was also conceded to attorneys, notaries, proctors, and 
 other lesser degrees of the law ; merchants, surgeons, tradesmen, 
 authors, artists, architects, and the like, had then, and have 
 now, no rank of any kind in consideration of their employ- 
 ments. 
 
 Tea, which at the Restoration was quite beyond the means 
 of private persons, became rapidly cheaper and in daily use 
 among the better class in London, though not in the country. 
 Thus, in Congreve's 'Way of the World,' Mrs. Millamant claims 
 to be ' Sole Empress of my tea-table.' Her lover readily 
 consents to her drinking tea if she agrees to a stipulation which 
 shows that the love of tea was as yet more fashionable than real, 
 since it could be combined with that of strong drinks. He says 
 that he must banish from her table ' foreign forces, auxiliaries to 
 the tea-table, such as orange brandy, aniseed, cinnamon, citron, 
 and Barbadoes water, together with ratafia and the most noble 
 spirit of clary.' 
 
 The favourite places of resort in the City were the galleries 
 of the Royal Exchange, filled with shops for the sale of gloves, 
 ribbons, laces, fans, scent, and such things. The shops were 
 kept by young women who, like the modern barmaid, added the 
 attraction of a pretty face to the beauty of their wares. The 
 
CHARLES THE SECOND 
 
 273 
 
 piazza of Covent Garden was another favourite place, but this, 
 with Spring Gardens, Vauxhall, was outside the City. The old 
 desecration of Paul's was to a great extent stopped by the erec- 
 tion of the West Porch, designed for those who met here for 
 purposes of business. 
 
 Coffee houses were first set up at this time, and at once be- 
 came indispensable to the citizens, who before had had no other 
 place of evening resort than the tavern. The City houses were 
 * Dick's' and the ' Rainbow ' in Fleet Street, ' Tom's ' of Birchin 
 
 OLD ST. PAUL'S, WITH THE 
 PORCH OF INIGO JONES 
 
 Lane (not to speak of the 
 more classic * Tom's ' of Covent 
 Garden). Nearly all the old 
 inns of the City have now been 
 destroyed. Fifty years ago many were still standing with their 
 galleries and their open courts. Such were the * Bell ' of Warwick 
 Lane ; the * Belle Sauvage ' of Ludgate Hill ; the ' Blossom/ 
 Laurence Lane, the * Black Lion,' Whitefriars Street, the * Four 
 Swans,' Bishopsgate Street, the ' Saracen's Head,' Friday Street, 
 and many others. 
 
 It is, I suppose, pretty clear that the songs collected by Tom 
 d'Urfey are a fair representation of the delectable and edifying 
 ditties sung in taverns and when the society was * mixed.' It 
 
274 LONDON 
 
 would be easy to preach against the wickedness of the times 
 which could permit the singing of such songs, but in reality they 
 are no worse than the songs of the preceding generation, to 
 which, indeed, many of them belong. And, besides, it does not 
 appear that the better sort of people regaled themselves with 
 this kind of song at all, and even In this collection there are a 
 great many which are really beautiful. The following pretty lines 
 are taken almost at random from one of the volumes of the 
 * Pills to Purge Melancholy.' They are called a Description of 
 Chlorls. 
 
 Have you e'er seen the morning Sun 
 
 From fair Aurora's bosom run ? 
 
 Or have you seen on Flora's bed 
 
 The essences of white and red ? 
 
 Then you may boast, for you have seen 
 
 My fairer Chloris, Beauty's Queen. 
 
 Have you e'er pleas'd your skilful ears 
 With the sweet music of the Spheres ? 
 Have you e'er heard the Syrens sing, 
 Or Orpheus play to Hell's black King ? 
 If so, be happy and rejoyce, 
 For thou hast heard my Chloris' Voice. 
 
 Have you e'er tasted what the Bee 
 Steals from each fragrant flower or tree ? 
 Or did you ever taste that meat 
 Which poets say the Gods did eat ? 
 O then I will no longer doubt 
 But you have found my Chloris out. 
 
 Many of the poems are patriotic battle pieces ; some present 
 the shepherd in the usual fashion as consumed by the ardour of 
 his love, being wishing and pining, sighing and weeping. That 
 seeming extravagance of passion — that talk of flames and darts 
 — was not entirely conventional : 
 
 How charming Phillis is, how fair ! 
 
 O that she were as willing 
 
 To ease my wounded heart of care, 
 
 And make her eyes less killing ! , - 
 
 It was not only exaggeration. I am quite certain that men and 
 women were far less self-governed formerly than now : when, for 
 
CHARLES THE SECOND 275 
 
 instance, they were in love, they were much more in love than 
 now. The passion possessed them and transported them and 
 inflamed them. Their pangs of jealousy tore them to pieces : 
 they must get their mistress or they will go mad. Nay, it is 
 only of late— say during the last hundred years — that we have 
 learned to restrain passions of any kind. Love, jealousy, envy, 
 hatred, were far fiercer emotions under the Second Charles — nay, 
 even under the Second George —than they are with us. Anger was 
 far more common. It does not seem as if men and women, 
 especially of the lower classes, ever attempted in the least to re- 
 strain theii- passions. To be sure they could at once have it out 
 in a fight, a thing which excuses wrath. To inquire into the causes 
 of the universal softening of manners would take us too far. But 
 we may note as a certain fact that passions are more restrained 
 and not so overwhelming : that love is milder, wi-ath more 
 governed, and that manners are softened for us. 
 
 One must not, again, charge the City at this time with being 
 more than commonly pestered by rogues. The revelations of 
 the Elizabethan moralists, and the glimpses we get of mediaeval 
 rogues, forbid this accusation. At the same time there was a 
 good standing mass of solid wickedness. Contemporary litera- 
 ture proves this, if any proof were wanted, abundantly. There 
 is a work of some literary value called the * Life of Meriton La- 
 troon,' in which is set forth an immense quantity of rogueries. 
 Among other things the writer shows the tricks of trade, placing 
 his characters in many kinds of shops, so as to give his experiences 
 in each. We are thus enabled to perceive that there were sharpers 
 and cheats in respectable-looking shops then, as now. And there 
 seems no reason to believe that the cheats were in greater pro- 
 portion to the honest men than they are now. Besides the tricks 
 of the masters, the honest Meriton Latroon shows us the ways 
 of the London prentice, which were highly promising for the 
 future of the City. He robbed his master as much as he dared : 
 he robbed him of money ; he robbed him of stuffs and goods ; 
 he ruined the maids ; he belonged to a club which met on 
 Saturday nights, when the master was at his country box, and 
 exchanged, for the common good, the robberies of the week. 
 After this they feasted and drank with young Bona Robas, who 
 jtole from them the money they had stolen from their shops. It 
 is a beautiful picture, and would by some moralists be set down 
 to tlie evil example of King Charles, who is generally held 
 
 # T 2 
 
276 LONDON 
 
 responsible for the whole of the wickedness of the people during 
 his reign. But these prentices knew nothing of the Court, and 
 the thing had been going on all through the Protectorate, and 
 for that matter I dare say as far back as the original institution 
 of apprenticeship. One would fain hope that not all the City 
 apprentices belonged to this club. Otherwise, one thinks that 
 the burning of London ought to have been the end of London. 
 
 The worst vice of the age seems to have been gambling, which 
 was as prevalent in the City as at the Court ; that is to say, one 
 does not accuse sober merchants of gambling, but in every tavern 
 there were cards and dice, and these were in use all day long. 
 Now, wherever there is gambling there are thieves, sharpers, and 
 cheats by profession, and in every age these gentry enjoy their 
 special names, whether of opprobrium or of endearment. They 
 were then called Huffs, Rooks, Pads, Pimpinios, Philo Puttonists, 
 Ruffins, Shabbaroons, Rufflers, and other endearing terms — not 
 that the number of the names proves the extent of the evil. 
 Whatever they were called, the whole object of their lives— their 
 only way of living — was to trick, extort, or coax money out of 
 flats. Very often they were gentlemen by birth, younger sons 
 of good families, who scorned any honest way of making their 
 living. By their good manners, fashionable appearance, pleasing 
 address and known connections, they often succeeded in getting 
 hold of unsuspecting gentlemen from the country. It is the old, 
 old story. Captain Hawk is always on the look-out for Master 
 Pigeon, and too often catches him. The story that Thackeray 
 has told belongs not to one period, but to all. Of course there 
 was the lower class of rogues : the sturdy beggar, the man who 
 cannot work because he has in his blood the taint of whole 
 generations of idleness ; the nomad, who would die unless he 
 were always roving about the country ; the outcast, who delights 
 in pitting his wits against the law. A few of these I have chosen 
 from the long lists. They are as follows. 
 
 The ' Rufifler,' who pretended to be an old soldier of Naseby 
 or Marston Moor. 
 
 The * Angler,' who carried a stick with a hook at the end 
 of it, and found it useful when the window was left open. 
 
 The 'Wild Rogue,' used for boys and girls, children of 
 thieves, who made a good living for their parents by hanging 
 about the doors of crowded churches, and cutting off gold 
 buttons from the coats of the merchants. 
 
CHARLES THE SECOND 2'J^ 
 
 The ' Clapperdozen/ a woman who begged about the streets 
 with stolen children. 
 
 The * Abram Man,' a sham madman. 
 
 The * Whip Jack,' a counterfeit sailor who pretended to be 
 shipwrecked. 
 
 The ' Mumpus,' who pretended to be a decayed merchant or 
 a sequestered clergyman. 
 
 The * Dommerer,' who shammed dumb. 
 
 Let us turn from general statements to the consideration of 
 a single family. That of Samuel Pepys might be taken as an 
 example, and his journal is by no means well-trodden and 
 familiar ground. In fact, he is generally read in bits, for half an 
 hour's amusement. Yet it is better to take a case not before 
 the public at all. Besides, even a minute diary such as that of 
 Pepys, kept day by day, leaves, when you come to construct 
 the daily life out of it, great gaps here and there. Less literary 
 documents may sometimes yield richer results. Even the most 
 careful diarist scorns to speak of details. For them we must 
 look into the humble papers of the household. For instance, I 
 have before me a bundle of documents on which I lighted tjy 
 accident, containing the household accounts of a respectable 
 family for the years 1 677-1 679. And I propose by means of 
 these accounts to reproduce the household daily life of a bour- 
 geois well-to-do family of the time. 
 
 This family consisted of the master, the mistress, and * Mr. 
 Arthur,' who was probably the master's brother. The two former 
 were at this time a young married couple, whose joys and 
 anxieties are presently increased by the arrival *of a baby. 
 Their residence is a short distance from London, and their way 
 of life may be taken to illustrate that of the general run of 
 London citizens. The occupation of the master is not stated, 
 but he appears to be a man following no profession or trade : 
 perhaps a gentleman with a small estate. They seem to have 
 kept no horses, so that their means were certainly narrow. 
 Their nearest market town was Hertford, whither they went by 
 coach (fare one shilling) to buy what they wanted. Their 
 housekeeping was conducted with an eye to economy, yet 
 there is no stint, and occasionally there occurs an entry — quite 
 inexplicable — of wild extravagance. They lived in the country, 
 about fifteen miles from London, and presumably had a garden, 
 yet they did not grow enough vegetables, herbs, and fruit for 
 
2/8 LONDON 
 
 their own consumption. The household consisted, besides the 
 family and the nurse, of a cook, two maids, and a gardener, or 
 man of all work. The accounts are partly kept by the mistress 
 and partly by a servant — perhaps a housekeeper. Remembering 
 that Pepys consented to receive his sister * Pall ' into his house 
 only on the footing of a servant, the keeper of the accounts may 
 very well have been a poor relation. 
 
 The rent of the house was £26 a year. It contained two 
 sitting-rooms and four bedrooms, with a kitchen. The parlour, 
 or best sitting-room, was hung with five pieces of fine tapestry ; 
 the other sitting-room with grey linsey-woolsey and gilt leather ; 
 the bedrooms had hangings of striped cloth. Curtains of green 
 cloth with a green carpet decorated the parlour ; the other rooms 
 had green, say, or 'sad colour' striped curtains. The best 
 bedroom contained a magnificent 'wrought' — i.e. carved — bed- 
 stead with a canopy, curtains, a valance, and chairs all of the 
 same material. There were three other bedrooms, one for 
 Mr. Arthur, one for the nurse and the baby unless they slept at 
 the foot of the big bed, and one for the maids. The gardener 
 slept out of the house. The furniture of the parlour consisted 
 of one central table — the dining-table — a table with a drawer, 
 a cupboard, a clock case, a leather chair, a plush chair, six green 
 cloth chairs and two green stools. The carpet and curtains have 
 been already mentioned ; there were no pictures, no cabinets, no 
 bookshelves, no mirrors, no sofas. The other room was more 
 simply furnished with a Spanish table, a plain table and a few 
 chairs. Two of the bedrooms had looking-glasses, and there 
 was a very generous provision of feather beds, bolsters, pillows, 
 and blankets, which speaks of comfort for the night. 
 
 The inventory of the kitchen furniture is, unfortunately, 
 incomplete. There is no mention at all made of any chinawarc. 
 Yet porcelain was by this time in common use. It was made 
 at Bow and at Chelsea. In middle-class houses the master and 
 mistress used it at table, while servants and children still had 
 pewter or even wooden platters. The inventory speaks of 
 porringers, doubtless of wood, of pewter candlesticks — there 
 are no brass candlesticks— of a three-pint pewter pot, of a great 
 and little bowl — for possets and hot-spiced ale — and of wooden 
 platters. Nothing is said of silver ; there are no silver cups — 
 in the century before this no respectable householder was without 
 one silver mazer at least ; there are no silver candlesticks ; there 
 
CHARLES THE SECOND 279 
 
 is no mention of forks. Now the two-pronged fork of steel was 
 made in Sheffield certainly in the middle of the century. It 
 would be curious if the ordinary household still kept up the old 
 fashion of eating without forks so late as 1677. 
 
 Such was the equipment of the house, one sitting-room and 
 one bedroom handsomely, the rest plainly, furnished. 
 
 The first thing which strikes one in the accounts is the 
 enormous consumption of beer. The household drank two 
 kilderkins, or thirty-six gallons, of beer every week ! One 
 hundred and forty-four quarts a week ! Twenty-one quarts a 
 day ! It means nearly three quarts a head. This seems impos- 
 sible. There must have been some external assistance. Perhaps 
 the master had some kind of farm, or employed other servants. 
 But it is not really impossible. We must remember that 
 there was no tea, that people would not drink water if they 
 could get anything else, and that small beer was the national 
 beverage, taken with every meal, and between meals, and that 
 the allowance was practically d discretion. It was certainly 
 quite possible, and even common, for a man to drink three 
 quarts a day. A hundred years later Benjamin Franklin describes 
 the daily beer-drinking in a London printing-house. The men 
 took a pint before breakfast, a pint with breakfast, a pint between 
 breakfast and dinner, a pint at dinner, a pint at six, and a pint 
 when work was knocked off. This makes three quarts, without 
 counting any beer that might be taken in the evening. In the 
 well-known and often quoted account of Mr. Hastings (Hutchin's 
 * History of Dorsetshire '), who lived over a hundred years, it is 
 recorded of him that he would take his glass or two of wine or 
 strong ale at dinner, but that he always had beside him his 
 great * tun -glass' filled with small beer, which he stirred with 
 rosemary. But, even if the men drank three quarts a day, the 
 women could not. 
 
 In addition to the small beer, which cost threepence a 
 gallon, there are continual entries of ale at twopence a quart. 
 This was bought at the tavern. There were many kinds of ale, 
 as Cock ale, College ale, wormwood ale, sage ale, and scurvy- 
 grass ale, some of them medicated, to be taken at certain 
 seasons of the year. There was also wine, but not much. 
 Occasionally they bought a cask — a tierce of forty-two gallons — 
 ^nd bottled it at home, 'ttie kind of wine is not stated. Some- 
 
280 LONDON 
 
 times they send out to the nearest tavern for a bottle, and it 
 cost a shilling. 
 
 The accounts seem to set down everything wanted for the 
 conduct of a house : every week, however, there is an unexplained 
 item, called ' cook's bill.' This, I think, is the separate account 
 of the servants' table. The ' cook's bill ' amounts every week to 
 a good sum, a little above or a little below a pound. Perhaps it 
 contained the wages as well as the board. The amount of food 
 entered certainly does not seem enough for the servants as well 
 as the family. 
 
 During the winter they bought no fresh beef at all. In 
 November they bought great pieces, thirty, forty, even seventy 
 pounds at a time. This was for the pickling-tub. Boiled beef 
 played a great part in the winter's dinners. If they drank 
 enormous quantities of beer they managed with very little bread. 
 I find that, taking ten consecutive weeks, they spent no more 
 than eight shillings upon bread. The price of wheat was then 
 subject to very great variations. For example : 
 
 In the year 1675 i^ ^^'^s ^^3 4s. M. the quarter. 
 Do. 1676 „ I 18 o „ 
 
 Do. 1677 „ 220 
 
 Do. 1678 „ 2 19 o „ 
 
 In other words, it was dearer in 1678 than it is at present, and that 
 when the purchasing power of money was four times what it is 
 now. Now it may be reckoned that in a house where there are 
 children the average consumption of bread is at this day ten 
 pounds weight a head. In this household of seven the average 
 consumption was no more than eight pounds altogether. Setting 
 aside the servants, the family had no more than two pounds of 
 bread apiece every week, or four and a half ounces a day, which 
 is one slice not too thick. Oat cake, however, they used in good 
 quantity, so that the bread would be considered as a luxury. 
 
 The old vice of the English in eating vast quantities of meat 
 to very little bread or vegetable could no longer be a reproach 
 to them. By this time there was abundance of vegetables of 
 every kind. We are especially told that in the serving of the 
 boiled beef great quantities of vegetables, carrots, parsnips, cauli- 
 flowers, cabbage, spinach, beans, peas, &c., were served with it, 
 and so also with other meat. There is no mention of potatoes, 
 though one had always thought that they were firmly established 
 
CHARLES THE SECOND 281 
 
 in the country by this time. Their own garden was not able to 
 furnish them with enough fruit or vegetables, which they have 
 to buy constantly. They also buy nosegays in the summer. 
 
 The prices of things in the time of Charles H. may be found 
 interesting. In considering them, remember, as stated above, 
 that the general purchasing power of money was then four times 
 that of the present time. A leg of mutton generally costs two- 
 and-sixpence ; a shoulder, two shillings ; a hand of pork, 
 eighteenpence ; * a cheese ' — they had one every week, but it is 
 not stated how much it weighed — varies from one-and-twopence 
 to one-and-eightpence. Butter is eight or nine pence a pound ; 
 they used about a pound a week. Sugar is sixpence a pound. 
 They bought their flour by sixpennyworths, and their coals in 
 small quantities for eighteenpence each week during the winter, 
 so that their fires must have been principally kept going with 
 wood. Once a month the washerwomen is called in, and sheets 
 are washed ; therefore, the washing was all done at home. 
 Raisins and currants at twopence a pound, eggs, nutmegs, gin- 
 ger, mace, rice, suet, &c., proclaim the pudding. It was made in 
 fifty different ways, but the ingredients were always the same, 
 and in this family they evidently had pudding every day. Cakes 
 also they had, and pies, both fruit pies and meat pics, and open 
 tarts. These were all sent to the bakehouse to be baked at one 
 penny each, so that the kitchen contained no oven. Candles 
 were fivepence a pound, but the entries of candles are so irregular 
 that one suspects the accounts to be imperfect. Herrings were 
 bought nearly every week, and sometimes ling, *a pole of ling.' 
 Bacon was sevenpence a pound. Rice was also sevenpence a 
 pound. Oranges came in about December ; cherries in their 
 season were twopence a pound ; gooseberries, fourpence, sold, I 
 suppose, by the measure ; peas, sixpence a peck ; beans, four- 
 pence a quart ; asparagus (' sparragrasse ') was in April exces- 
 sively dear — we find them giving six shillings and twopence, a 
 most extravagant expenditure for a single dish ; two weeks later 
 it has gone down to eighteenpence for two hundred. But how 
 could so careful a housewife spend six and twopence on a single 
 dish ? A ' sallet,' that is a lettuce, is one penny. Once in six 
 weeks or so we find mention of * earbs,' that is, thyme, sage, 
 rosemary, &c., for twopence. * Cowcumbers ' are a penny apiece, 
 and a favourite vegetable. Radishes, carrots, turnips, French 
 beans are also bought. In the spring cream cheese appears. 
 
282 LONDON 
 
 Sweet briar is bought every year, one knows not for what, and 
 roses by the bushel, evidently for rosewater. This is the only 
 allusion to the still-room, which undoubtedly formed part of the 
 menage. Nothing is said of preserved fruits, home-made wines, 
 distilled waters, or pickles, which then formed a great part of 
 housekeeping. They pickled everything : walnuts, gherkins, 
 asparagus, peaches, cauliflowers, plums, nectarines, onions, lemons, 
 barberries, mushrooms, nasturtium buds, lime-tree buds, oysters, 
 samphire, elder roots. They distilled rose buds and rose leaves, 
 lavender, walnut water, and cherry water. They always had 
 plague water handy, hysterical water, and other sovereign reme- 
 dies. They ' jarred ' cherries, quinces, hops, apricots, damsons, 
 and peaches. They made syrups in many pleasing varieties. 
 They knew how to keep green peas, green gooseberries, 
 asparagus, and damsons till Christmas. They made wine 
 out of all the fruits in their season ; the art still survives, 
 though the clubman of the town turns up his nose at the deli- 
 cate cowslip, the robust ginger, and the dainty raspberry — a 
 dessert wine. They potted everything, from pigeon to venison. 
 Nothing is said of these things in the account books. But the 
 large quantity of vinegar bought every week shows the activity 
 of the pickling department. Only once is there any appearance 
 of spirits. It is when a bottle of brandy is bought, at one 
 shilling and twopence. Perhaps that was used to fortify the 
 raspberry and the currant wines. Very little milk is bought. 
 Sometimes for many months there is no mention of milk. This 
 may have been because their own dairy supplied them. Perhaps, 
 however, milk was only occasionally used in the house. The 
 food of very young children, infants after they were weaned, was 
 not then milk but pap, which I suppose to have been some com- 
 pound of flour and sugar. There is no mention in the accounts 
 at all of tea, coffee, or chocolate. Tea was already a fashionable 
 drink, but at this time it was sixty shillings a pound, a price 
 which placed it quite beyond the reach of the ordinary house- 
 hold. Coffee was much cheaper ; at the coffee houses it was sold 
 at a penny a cup, but it had not yet got into private houses. 
 
 Turning to other things beside food. Schooling ' for E. J.* 
 was twopence a week. His shoes were one shilling and nine- 
 pence the pair. The cobbler who made them was Goodman 
 Archer ; Goody Archer was his wife. A letter cost twopence or 
 fourpence ; everything bought or ordered was brought by the 
 
CHARLES THE SECOND 283 
 
 carrier, which greatly increased the expense ; a lady's gloves cost 
 two shillings a pair ; her silk stockings ten shillings and ordinary 
 stockings six shillings a pair ; her shoes three shillings ; her 
 mask one shilling ; her pattens for muddy weather were two 
 shillings a pair ; her knitting needles cost a penny apiece ; her 
 steel bodkin twopence, her needles eightpence the half-hundred ; 
 her pins ninepence a thousand ; her ribbons threepence a yard. 
 As for the little things required for the house, they were far 
 dearer than now, considering especially the value of money. 
 For instance, a mop cost a shilling ; a pitcher fivepence ; glasses 
 one shilling and eightpence each ; an earthenware pan, four- 
 pence ; a broom, sixpence ; a mustard-pot, one shilling and six- 
 pence ; a padlock, tenpence ; a mousetrap, tenpence ; eleven 
 shillings were given for a pair of candlesticks, probably of brass 
 Holland was two shillings a yard ; a * newsbook ' cost a penny. 
 On one occasion — only once — it is recorded that the family 
 bought a book. Only one, and then it was so expensive that 
 they could never afford to buy another. This is the entry : 
 ' Paid a gentleman for a book, ^3 los. od.' What book, one 
 asks in wonder, could be worth seventy shillings in the year 
 1678 — that is, about ;^I5 of present money — to a man who was 
 neither a scholar nor a collector ? 
 
 The servants were up and took their breakfast at six in the 
 winter and at five in the summer. The family breakfasted at 
 eight. They had, for the most part, cold meat and beer with 
 oat cake. Pepys tells us of a breakfast of cold turkey pie and 
 goose — imagine a poor weak creature of this generation making 
 a breakfast of turkey pie and goose, or of goose alone, with small 
 beer ! At another time he had bread and butter, sweetmeats 
 and strong drinks. And on another occasion he sat down to 
 a table spread with oysters, anchovies, and ncats' tongues, with 
 wine * of all sort.' 
 
 At two o'clock dinner was served. If it was boiled beef day, 
 the broth was served in porringers, bread or oat cake being 
 crumbled into it with herbs. When it was not boiled beef day, 
 they had fresh meat or poultry (the latter only seldom), and, in 
 ?»er5on, what are called in the accounts ' pateridges ' — it really 
 matters little how a bird is spelled, provided it is well cooked and 
 , ready to be eaten. The ^variable rule of the house was to have 
 two joints a week, mutton, veal, pork or poultry. This provided 
 four dinners, or perhaps five. The other two or three dinners 
 
284 LONDON 
 
 were consecrated to boiled beef. Calf's head and bacon was 
 (deservedly) a favourite dish ; they did not disdain tripe ; black 
 puddings were regarded with affection ; a hog's cheek was 
 reckoned a toothsome kickshaw ; anchovies, prawns, and lobsters 
 are also mentioned with commendation. On most days they had 
 a pudding — the good old English pudding, boiled or baked, 
 with raisins and ' currance ' in it, flour, eggs, butter, sugar, nutmeg, 
 mace, ginger, suet, and sometimes milk — a famous pudding of 
 which no one was ever tired. 
 
 The menu of a dinner where there was company is preserved 
 in Pepys. Everything was served at once. They had marrow- 
 bones, a leg of mutton, three pullets and a dozen larks in one 
 dish, a tart, a neat's tongue, anchovies and a dish of prawns, and 
 cheese. This was for thirteen persons. 
 
 The dishes were served in pewter, as they are still for the 
 students in the hall of Lincoln's Inn. The supper, of which very 
 little is said, was like the breakfast, but not quite so solid. 
 Cheese played a large part in the supper, and in summer * a 
 sallet ' — cost, one penny— or a dish of * redishes ' helped out the 
 cold meat. After supper a cool tankard of ale — not small beer 
 — stood within the master's reach while he took his pipe of 
 tobacco. In the winter there was a posset or a toasted crab in 
 the jug. 
 
 One is sorry to part with this interesting family, but un- 
 fortunately further information is lacking ; I could give the in- 
 ventory of the master's linen and that of his wife, but these 
 details want general interest. So they disappear, the master, 
 the mistress, Mr. Arthur, and the baby. Let us hope that they 
 all enjoyed a long life and prospered exceedingly. After pon- 
 dering so long over their account books one seems to know them 
 so well. They have become personal friends. They sit on the 
 green cloth chairs in the room with the green carpet and the 
 green curtains and the fine tapestry. The chairs are high and 
 straight in the back. Madame has her knitting in her lap. The 
 master and Mr. Arthur sit on opposite sides of the fire, their 
 heads adorned with beautiful flowing perriwigs of brown hair, 
 their own colour, which they have curled every week at an ex- 
 pense of twopence. They are sipping hot spiced ale and talking 
 of last Sunday morning's sermon. They are grave and respon- 
 sible people, rather fat in the cheeks because they take so little 
 exercise and so much beer. In the window stands a row of books. 
 
CHARLES THE SECOND 285 
 
 Among them was Jeremy Taylor's * Holy Living and Dying,' 
 Herrick's * Hesperides,' Baxter's * Saints' Rest/ Braithwaite's 
 * Arcadian Princess,' Milton's * Paradise Lost,' the first edition 
 in ten books ; a Book of Husbandry, a Prophetical Almanack 
 — that of Montelion — and I suppose, if we only knew it, the book 
 for which they paid the * gentleman ' three pounds ten shillings 
 — was it a Bible, illustrated ? It is only seventeen years since 
 the Commonwealth ; there are Puritans still ; their talk chiefly 
 turns on godly matters ; the clamour and the scandal of the 
 Court hardly so much as reach their ears. The clouds roll over ; 
 they are gone. Oh ! world of change and fleeting shadows ! 
 Whither do they go, the flying shadows, the ghosts, the groups 
 and pictures of the men and women that flit before our eyes 
 when we raise the wizard's wand and conjure up the spirits of the 
 past? 
 
22,6^ LONDON 
 
 IX 
 
 GEORGE THE SECOND 
 
 From the accession of the First to the death of the Fourth 
 George, very little change took place in the outward appear- 
 ance or the customs of London and its people. Not that these 
 kings could have had anything to do with the manners or the 
 changes of the City. The first two Georges were Germans who 
 understood not their chief town, and had neither love nor fear 
 for the citizens, such as possessed the Plantagenets, the Tudors, 
 and the Stuarts. There was little change, because the forces 
 that produce change were working slowly. Ideas, for instance, 
 are always changing, but the English people are slow to catch 
 the new ideas. The ideas were born in this country, but they were 
 developed in France, and they produced the French Revolution. 
 For this they were suppressed in England, only to grow and 
 spread more rapidly underground, and to produce changes of a 
 more stable kind than the effervescence of the First Republic. 
 
 There was little communication between town and town or 
 between town and country. The rustic never left his native 
 village unless he enlisted. Then he never returned. The 
 mechanic lived out his life ever his work on the spot where he 
 was born and where he was brought up. The London shop- 
 keeper never went farther afield than Hampstead, and generally 
 found sufficient change of air at Bagnigge Wells or in Moorfields. 
 If wealth and trade increased, which they did by leaps and 
 bounds, it was still on the old lines : the City jealous of its rights, 
 the masters keeping the wealth for themselves, and the men re- 
 maining in silence and submission. 
 
 One important change may, however, be noted. The City 
 had by this time ceased altogether to attract the younger sons 
 of the country gentry ; the old connection therefore between 
 London and the counties was severed. The chief reason was 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 287 
 
 that the continual wars of the century found employment and 
 a career for all the younger sons in the services, and that the 
 value of land went up enormously. Trade was no longer 
 recruited from the better sort, class distinctions were deepened 
 and more sharply defined even among the middle class : a bar- 
 rister looked down upon a merchant, and would not shake hands 
 with an attorney, while a simple clergyman would not associate 
 with a man in business. Sydney Smith, for intance, refused to 
 stay a night at a country house because its owner was a banker 
 and a tradesman. The real extent of the contempt with which 
 trade was regarded and the width of the breach between the 
 Court and the City was illustrated when the Corporation enter- 
 tained the Queen on her accession at Guildhall, when the Lord 
 Mayor and the Corporation, the givers of the feast ^ were actually 
 set down at a lower table separate from the queen their guest ! 
 Think of that other great dinner chronicled above, where the 
 mayor entertained four kings and played cards with them after 
 dinner ! 
 
 In the picture of London just before the present age, we wil^ 
 confine ourselves as much as possible to the life of the bourgeois 
 For the Court, for the life of the aristocracy, the statesmen, the 
 poets, the scholars, the artists — they are sufficiently written 
 about elsewhere. Here we will keep as much as we can to the 
 great mass of the London citizens who know nothing of Court 
 and noble, but are sober, hardworking honest folk, their chief 
 care being to pay their way, avoid bankruptcy, and amass a 
 certain sum of money before they die ; their chief subject of 
 admiration being the man who leaves behind him a great fortune 
 made in trade ; their chief pleasures being those of the table. 
 
 First, for the extent of the City. 
 
 London in 1750 was spreading, but not yet rapidly. East 
 and west it spread, not north and south. Eastward the City 
 had thrown out a long arm by the riverside. St. Katherine's 
 Precinct was crowded ; streets, two or three deep, stretched along 
 the river bank as far as Limehouse, but no farther. These 
 were inhabited by the people who made their living on the 
 river. Immediately north of these streets stretched a great 
 expanse of market gardens and fields. Whitechapel was already 
 a crowded suburb, filled with working men. This was one of 
 the quarters where the Condon miob was born and bred, and 
 free from interference of clergy or rich folk. Clerkenwell, with 
 
288 
 
 LONDON 
 
 the parts about Smithfield, was another district dear to thieves, 
 pickpockets, and rowdies. Within its boundaries the City was 
 well and carefully ordered. Unfortunately this order did not 
 extend beyond the walls. Outside there were no companies, 
 no small parishes, no rich merchants, no charities, schools, or 
 endowments, and practically it was without churches. 
 
 On the north side, Moorfields still remained an open space ; 
 beyond lay Hoxton Fields, White Conduit Fields, Lamb's 
 Conduit Fields, and Marylebone Fields. The suburb of 
 Bloomsbury was beginning. A crowded suburb had sprung up 
 north of the Strand. Westminster was a great city by itself. 
 
 HOUSES IN ST. KATHERINE's, PULLED DOWN IN 1827 
 
 Southwark, now a borough with half a million people, as great 
 as Liverpool, occupied then a little strip of marshy land not 
 half a mile broad at its widest. East and west, to Lambeth on 
 the one side and to Redriff on the other, was a narrow strip of 
 riverside, dotted with houses and hamlets. 
 
 The walls of the City were never formally pulled down 
 They disappeared bit by bit. Houses were built close to them 
 and upon them : they were covered up. Excavations constantly 
 bring to light some of the foundations. When a churchyard 
 was placed against the wall, as at St. Giles's, Cripplegate, and 
 at St. Alphege, London Wall, some portions were allowed to 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 2S9 
 
 remain. The course of the wall is perfectly well known, and 
 has often been mapped. It is strange, however, that the Cor- 
 poration should have been so careless as to make no attempt at 
 all to preserve some portions of this most interesting monument. 
 
 The gates still stood, and were closed at sunset, until the 
 year 1760. Then they were all pulled down, and the materials 
 sold. Temple Bar, which was never a City gate, properly 
 speaking, remained until the other day. The gates, were, I 
 suppose, an obstruction to traffic. Yet one regrets their dis- 
 appearance. They were not old, but they had a character of 
 their own, and they preserved the memory of ancient sites. 
 I wish they could have been preserved to this day. A statue 
 of Queen Elizabeth, which formerly stood on the west front of 
 Lud Gate, is, I believe, the only 
 part of a City gate not destroyed. 
 It is now placed on the south wall 
 of St. Dunstan's, Fleet Street, where 
 thousands pass by every day, re- 
 gardless of this monument of Lon- 
 don before the fire ! 
 
 I have found, in a pamphlet 
 written (1754) to advocate certain 
 improvements in the City, glimpses 
 of things too petty for the dignity 
 of history, yet not without interest 
 to one who wishes to reconstruct lud gate 
 
 the life of the time. For instance, 
 
 the streets were not cleaned, except in certain thoroughfares ; at 
 the back of the Royal Exchange, for instance, was a scandalous 
 accumulation of filth suffered to remain, and the posterns of the 
 City gates were equally neglected and abused. The rubbish 
 shot into the streets was not cleared away ; think of the streets 
 all discharging the duty of the dust-bin ! Cellar doors and 
 windows were left open carelessly ; stone steps projected from 
 the houses far across the footpath. Where pavement had been 
 laid down it was suffered to become broken and ruinous, and so 
 left. Houses that had fallen down or been burned down were 
 left unbuilt, an ugly hole in the line of the street. Sheds for 
 shops were placed against the walls of churches, as at St. 
 Antholin's, Budge Row, and at St. Ethelburga's, where they still 
 remain, transformed into houses. Sheds for shops have been 
 
290 LONDON 
 
 built out in the street before the houses in certain places. 
 Houses rebuilt are pushed forward into the street. Live 
 bullocks driven through the streets are a constant danger ; mad 
 dogs are another danger — why is there no tax on dogs ? 
 Beggars and vagrants swarm in every street. The common 
 people practise habitually a profaneness of speech which is 
 shocking. These are some of the things complained of by my 
 pamphleteer. He next advocates certain improvements. He 
 would establish a public Mercantile Library — we now have it at 
 the Guildhall. He complains that the City gates have been 
 encroached upon and defaced — six years later they were taken 
 down. He shows us that while within the City itself there were 
 oil-lamps set up at regular intervals in all the streets, there were 
 none outside the Freedom. At that time beyond St. Martin's 
 le Grand, and in the district of St. Bartholomew's, the streets 
 were left in darkness absolute. This was shortly afterwards 
 remedied. He wants stronger and stouter men for the City 
 watch, and would have some stationed in different parts of the 
 City in the daytime. That, too, was done, after many years. 
 We must consider that the old theory was that the citizens 
 should in the daytime keep order for themselves. He asks 
 why no wheel carriages are permitted on the north side of 
 St. Paul's. He might ask the same question still, and the 
 answer would be that it is a very great happiness to be able to 
 keep one, if only one, street in London free from carts and 
 omnibuses. 
 
 He then proceeds to propose the erection of equestrian 
 statues in various parts of the City. This has now been accom- 
 plished, but yet we are not wholly satisfied. He would put up 
 piazzas, porticoes, and triumphal arches here and there ; he 
 would remove the bars and chains of Holborn, Smithfield, 
 Aldersgate, Bishopsgate, and Whitechapel, and would put up 
 stone piers with the City arms upon them. We have almost 
 forgotten those bars and chains. He proposes a new stone 
 bridge across the river at the mouth of Fleet Ditch. Blackfriars 
 Bridge has been erected there. It is a most instructive 
 pamphlet, written, it is evident, by a man much in advance of 
 his age. 
 
 The best description of London about this time is certainly 
 Gay's * Trivia.' Witness the following lines on Thames Street : 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 291 
 
 O who that rugged street would traverse o'er, 
 That stretches, O Fleet Ditch, from thy black shore 
 To the Tow'r's moated walls ? Here steams ascend 
 That, in mixed fumes, the wrinkled nose offend. 
 Where chandler's cauldrons boil ; where fishy prey 
 Hide the wet stall, long absent from the sea; 
 And where the cleaver chops the heifer's spoil. 
 And where huge hogsheads sweat with trainy oil ; 
 Thy breathing nostril hold : but how shall I 
 Pass, where in piles Carnavian cheeses lie; 
 Cheese, that the table's closing rights denies, 
 And bids me with th' unwilling chaplain, rise ? 
 
 If you v^ere to ask any person specially interested in the 
 Church of England — not necessarily a clergyman of that 
 Church — which was the deadest and lowest and feeblest period 
 in the history of the Anglican Church, he would without the 
 least hesitation reply that the reign of George the Second 
 covered that period. This is universally accepted. I think, 
 Jiowever, that one may show, without much trouble, that this 
 belief is not based upon inquiry into the facts of the time. 
 The Church of George the Second did not, it is true, greatly 
 resemble that of this generation : it had its own customs, 
 and it had its own life. It is certain that the churches 
 were what is commonly called * ugly ' — that is to say, they 
 were built by Wren, or were imitations of his style, and 
 had nothing to do with early English, or Decorated, or even 
 Perpendicular. Also, it is certain that the congregations sat in 
 pews, each family by itself; that there were some few pews of 
 greater dignity than others, where sat my Lord Mayor, or the 
 Aldermen, or the Sheriffs, or the Masters of City Companies. 
 It is also certain that all the churches had galleries ; that the 
 services were performed from a * three-decker ' ; that the sermon 
 was preached in a black gown, and that the clergyman called 
 himself a minister, and not a priest. All these things are 
 abominations to some of us in the latter half of the nineteenth 
 century. There were also pluralists ; the poor were left very 
 much to themselves, and the parish was not ' worked ' according 
 to modern ideas. There were no Mothers' Meetings, no Day 
 in the Country, no Lectures and Tea-meetings ; no activity ; no 
 * working' in fact, at all. But was it quite a dead time? Let 
 us see. 
 
 m V 2 
 
292 LONDON 
 
 There were at that time a hundred and nine parish churches 
 in London and Westminster. At forty-four of these there was 
 daily service — surely this is a recognised indication of some 
 religious activity : at one of these there were three daily services ; 
 at all of them — the whole hundred and nine — there were services 
 every Wednesday and Friday, and on all holy days and saints' 
 days. There were endowments for occasional sermons in nearly 
 every chiirch. So much of the Puritan spirit remained that the 
 sermon was still considered the most important part of Church 
 service ; in other words, sound doctrine being then held to be 
 essential to salvation, instruction in doctrine was considered of 
 far greater importance than prayer or praise ; a fact which quite 
 sufficiently accounts for the slovenly character of Church services 
 down to thirty or forty years ago. The singing, observe, might 
 be deplorable, but the sermon — the essential — was sound. 
 
 Sound doctrine. That was the one thing needful. It 
 trampled on everything else. Of commercial morality, of the 
 duties and responsibilities of masters towards servants, of any 
 rights possessed by the producers either in their produce or in 
 their government, or in their power to better their position, not 
 one word was ever said. The same men who would gravely and 
 earnestly and with fervent prayers discuss the meaning of a text, 
 would take a share in a slaver bound for the Guinea Coast and 
 Jamaica, or go out to watch the flogging of a wretch at the cart- 
 tail, or the hanging of a poor woman for stealing a loaf of bread, 
 without a thought that they were doing or witnessing anything 
 but what was right and laudable. The same men would cheer- 
 fully pay their servants wages just enough to live upon and make 
 tenfold, twenty fold profit to themselves, and think they were doing 
 God service. So far the religious life of the century was low 
 and feeble. But the science of morals advances ; it has very 
 little indeed to do with sound doctrine, but a great deal with 
 human brotherhood ; could we look into the middle of the next 
 century we should perhaps shudder to discover how we ourselves 
 will be regarded as inhuman sweaters and oppressors of the poor. 
 Let us therefore cease to speak of our forefathers with contempt. 
 They had their religion ; it differed from ours ; we have ours, and 
 our grandchildren's will differ from that. 
 
 There were no Sunday-schools. These came in towards the 
 end of the century ; still there were schools in almost every parish 
 in the City. At these schools the children were instructed in the 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 
 
 293 
 
 rudiments of the Christian faith. Why, the free schools of the 
 City, without counting the great grammar schools of St. Paul's, 
 Merchant Taylors', Charter House, Christ's Hospital, the 
 Mercers', St. Olave's, and St. Saviour's, gave instruction to five 
 thousand boys and half that number of girls. There was not a 
 poor boy of respectable parents in the whole City, I believe, who 
 could not receive a sound education — quite as good as he would 
 now get at a Board School, and on Sunday he had to go to 
 church and was duly catechised. 
 
 The theory of parish organisation in the last century was 
 very simple, yet it was effective. The parishes were small — 
 
 
 davenant's school 
 
 some of them tiny in their dimensions — so that, although they 
 were densely populated, the rector or vicar knew every soul that 
 belonged to his church. The affairs of the people — the care of 
 the poor — were provided for by the Companies. The children 
 were taught at the free schools or the grammar schools. At 
 fourteen a boy was made a 'prentice, and entered some livery. 
 Once in a Company, his whole life was assured. He would get 
 regular work ; he would have the wages due ; he would marry ; 
 his children would be cared for as he had been. He would be 
 looked after not by the Church — that was not the function of the 
 Church — but by his Company, in sickness and in age, as well as 
 
294 LONDON 
 
 in time of strength and work. Every Sunday, Wednesday^ 
 Friday, and Holy Day there were services, with sermons ; but 
 we need not suppose that the working-man considered it his 
 duty to flock to the week-day services. On Sunday, of course, 
 he went, because the whole parish was expected to be in church. 
 They did attend. Station and order were preserved within the 
 church as without. The rich merchants and the masters sat in 
 the most beautiful pews possible to conceive, richly carved with 
 blazoned shields and figures in white and gold. With high backs, 
 above which the tops of the wigs proudly nodded. These pews 
 were gathered about the pulpit, which was itself a miracle of 
 carved work, though perhaps it was only a box stuck on to the 
 wall. The altar, the walls, the galleries were all adorned with 
 wood-carvings. Under the galleries and in the aisles, on plain 
 benches, sat the folk who worked for wages, the bedesmen and 
 bedeswomen, and the charity children. The retail people, who 
 kept the shops, had less eligible pews behind their betters. They 
 left the church in order, the great people first, then the lesser, 
 and then the least. No order and rank — all to be equal — in the 
 House of the Lord ? Nonsense ! How could that be allowed 
 when He has ordained that they shall be unequal outside His 
 House ? The notion of equality in the Church is quite a modern 
 idea. It is not yet accepted, though here and there it is tole- 
 rated. It is, in fact, revolutionary ; it is subversive of rank. 
 Are we to understand that it is as easy for a pauper to get into 
 the kingdom of heaven as a prince ? We may say so, but, my 
 friends, no prince will ever be got to believe it. 
 
 An excellent example of a last-century church is to be seen 
 in Thames Street. It is the church of All Hallows the Great. 
 The building is a square room, with no beauty except that of 
 proportion ; it is rich in wood carvings ; the pulpit, lavishly 
 adorned with precious work, ought to belong to some great 
 cathedral ; it has got a screen of carved wood right across the 
 church, which is most beautiful. The old arrangement of the 
 last century is still preserved ; the pulpit is placed against the 
 middle of the wall ; the pews of the merchants are gathered 
 about, while the pews of the common people are those nearest 
 to the Communion Table. Formerly the latter were appropri- 
 ated to the watermen's apprentices. These youths, once the 
 hope of the Thames, sat with their backs to the table, and have 
 left the record of their presence in their initials carved with dates 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 295 
 
 on the sloping book-stand. There they are, * J. F. 1710/ * B. R. 
 1734,' with a rude carving of a ship, showing how they beguiled 
 the tedium of the sermon. The arrangement of the pews illus- 
 trates the importance in which the sermon was held. The 
 people, as at Paul's Cross, gathered about the preacher. The 
 modern impatience with which the sermon is received is mainly 
 owing to the fact that we no longer feel so strongly the import- 
 ance of sound doctrine ; we have come to think, more or less 
 clearly, that the future of a man cannot possibly depend upon 
 the question whether he has at any time expressed assent or 
 consent to certain doctrines which he is wholly incapable of 
 understanding. We see around us so many forms of creed that 
 we have grown careless, or tolerant, or contemptuous, or chari- 
 table concerning doctrine. 
 
 There were penalties for absence from service. A man who 
 stayed away was liable to the censure of the Church, with a fine 
 of one shilling for every offence. He was called upon to prove 
 where he had been to church ; because it was not thought pos- 
 sible that anybody should stay away from service altogether. 
 If a person harboured in his house one who did not attend the 
 parish church, he was liable to a fine of 20/. a month ; the third 
 part of the fine being given to the informer. I do not suppose 
 that these laws were ever rigidly enforced ; otherwise the Non- 
 conformists would have cried out oftener and louder. But their 
 spirit remained. During the week, the parish, save for the ser- 
 vices, was left to take care of itself There were no visits, no 
 concerts, no magic lanterns, no Bible classes, no missionary 
 meeting — nothing — everybody attended to his own business. 
 The men worked all day long ; the women looked after the 
 house all day long ; in the evenings the taverns were crowded ; 
 there were clubs of all kinds ; everybody took his tobacco and 
 his glass at a tavern or a club, and no harm was thought of it. 
 
 For the old people there were almshouses, and there was the 
 bounty of the Companies. And since there must be always 
 poor people among us, there were doles in every parish. Special 
 cases were provided for as they arose by the merchants them- 
 selves. Finally, if one was sick or dying, the clergyman went 
 to read the office appointed for the sick ; and when one died, he 
 read the office appointed for the dead. 
 
 All this is simple and intelligible. The Church provided 
 instruction in doctrine for old and young, forms of prayer, 
 consolation in sickness, baptism, communion, and burial for all ; 
 
296 LONDON 
 
 some churches had charitable endowments; the rest was left 
 to the parishioners themselves. This is not quite the modern 
 idea of the parish, but it seems to have worked as well as our 
 own practice. Their clergyman was a divine, and nothing more : 
 ours undertakes the care of the poor first of all ; he is the 
 administrator of charity ; he is, next, the director of schools, the 
 organiser of amusements, the leader of athletics, the trainer of 
 the choir, the president of musical societies, the founder of 
 working-lads' institutes ; he also reads the service at church, and 
 he preaches a short sermon every Sunday ; but the latter func- 
 tions are not much regarded by his people. Their clergyman 
 was a divine ; he was therefore a scholar. Therein lies the 
 whole difference. We have no divines now, and very few 
 scholars among the parish clergy, or even among the Bishops. 
 Here and there one or two divines are found upon the Episcopal 
 bench, and one or two at Oxford and Cambridge ; in the parish 
 churches, none. We do not ask for divines, or even for preachers ; 
 we want organisers, administrators, athletes, and singers. And 
 the only reason for calling the time of George the Second a 
 dead time for the Church seems to be that its clergy were not 
 like our own. 
 
 Let us walk abroad and view the streets. They are changed, 
 indeed, since Stow led us from St. Andrew's Undershaft to St. 
 Paul's. The old gabled houses are all gone except in the nar- 
 row limits of that part spared by the fire ; in their places are tall 
 houses with large sash windows and flat facades. Within, they 
 are wainscoted, the fashion of tapestry having completely gone 
 out. Foot-passengers are protected by rows of posts at intervals 
 of four or five feet. Flat paving-stones are not in general use, 
 and those that have been laid down are small and insecure. The 
 shops are small, and there is little pretence at displaying the 
 goods ; they have, however, all got windows in front. A single 
 candle, or two at the most, illuminate the wares in the evening 
 or the short afternoons of winter. A sign hangs oilt over every 
 door. The drawing of St. Dunstan's in the West shows that 
 part of Fleet Street before the paving-stones were laid down. 
 The only pavement both for the road and the footway consisted 
 of large round pebbles, over which the rolling of the vehicles 
 made the most dreadful noise. In the year 1762, however, an 
 improvement was introduced in Westminster, followed by the 
 City of London in 1766. The roads were paved with squares of 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 
 
 297 
 
 Scotch granite laid in gravel ; the posts were removed ; a curb 
 was laid down, gutters provided, and the footway paved with 
 flat stones. About the same time the Corporation took down 
 the overhanging signs, removed the City gates, covered over 
 Fleet Ditch, and broadened numerous narrow passages. The 
 drawing of the Monument and the beginning of London Bridge, 
 reproduced on p. 299, dates between 1757 and 1766; for the houses 
 are already down on the bridge — this was done in 1757, and the 
 posts and signs are not yet removed from the street. The view 
 gives an excellent idea of a London street of that time. The 
 
 I'o^ • 4 vn\ 
 
 ST. dunstan's in the west 
 
 posts were by no means all removed. The drawing of Temple 
 Bar from Butcher Row, taken as late as 1796, in which they are 
 still standing, shows this. It also shows the kind of houses in the 
 lower streets. Butcher Row, though it stood in the Strand at 
 the back of St. Clement's Church, a highly respectable quarter, 
 was one of the most disreputable places in the whole of London 
 — given over to crimps, flash lodging-houses, and people of the 
 baser sort. 
 
 There are certain dangers and inconveniences in walking 
 along the streets ; the finest dress may be ruined by the care- 
 
298 
 
 LONDON 
 
 lessness of a dustman or a chimney-sweep ; the custom of 
 exposing meat on open bulkheads leads to many an irreparable 
 stain of grease. Bullies push the peaceful passenger into the 
 gutter — it is a great time for street swagger ; barbers blow the 
 flour into wigs at open doorways, causing violent wrath among 
 those outside ; mad bulls career up and down the street ; men 
 quarrel, make a ring, and fight it out before the traffic can go 
 on ; pickpockets are both numerous and dexterous ; footpads 
 abound in the open squares of Lincoln's Inn, Bloomsbury, and 
 Portman ; highwaymen swarm on all the roads ; menservants 
 are insolent and rascally ; the noise in the leading streets is 
 deafening ; in a shower the way becomes impassable from the 
 rain-spouts on the roof, which discharge their contents upon the 
 streets below. 
 
 We who now object to the noise of a barrel-organ in the 
 street, or a cry of milk, or a distant German band, would be driven 
 mad by a single day of George the Second's 
 London streets. Hogarth has touched 
 the subject, but only touched it. No one 
 could do more in a picture than indicate 
 the mere fringe of this vast subject. Even 
 on the printed page we can do little more 
 than the painter. For instance, here were 
 some of the more common and everyday 
 and all-day-long noises. Many of the shop- 
 keepers still kept up the custom of having 
 a 'prentice outside bawling an invitation to 
 buy — buy — buy. To this day, butchers at 
 Clare Market cry out at the stalls, all day 
 long, * Rally up, ladies ! Rally up ! Buy ! Buy ! Buy ! ' In the 
 streets of private houses there passed a never-ending procession 
 of those who bawled things for sale. Here were a few of the 
 things they bawled — I am conscious that it is a very imperfect 
 list. There were those who offered to do things — mend chairs, 
 grind knives, solder pots and pans, buy rags or kitchen stuff, 
 rabbit skins, hair, or rusty swords, exchange old clothes or wigs, 
 mend old china, cut wires — this excruciating, rasping operation 
 was apparently done in the open— or cooper casks. There were, 
 next, the multitude of those who carried wares to sell — as things 
 to eat and drink — saloop, barley broth, rice, milk, furmity, 
 Shrewsbury cakes, eggs, lily-white vinegar, hot peas-cods, rabbits, 
 
 SIGN 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 
 
 299 
 
 birds, pullets, ginger-bread, oysters, honey, cherry ripe, Chaney 
 oranges, hot codlins, pippins, fruit of all kinds, fish, tafiity tarts, 
 fresh water, tripe, tansy, greens, mustard, salt, grey pease, water- 
 cresses, shrimps, rosemary, lavender, milk, elder-buds ; or things 
 of domestic use — lace, ribbons, almanacks, ink, small coal, 
 sealing wax, wood to cleave, earthenware, spigots, combs^ 
 buckles, leghorns, pewter pots, brooms in exchange for old shoes, 
 things of horn, Holland socks, woollen socks and wrappers, 
 brimstone matches, flint and steel, shoe-laces, scissors and tools 
 
 ArPROACII TO LONDON BRIDGE 
 
 straps, and the thousand-and-one things which are now sold in 
 shops. The bear-ward came along with his animal and his dogs 
 and his drum, the sweep shouted from the house-top, the ballad- 
 singer bawled in the road, the tumbler and the dancing-girl set 
 up their pitch with pipe and drum. Nobody minded how much 
 noise was made. In the smaller streets the good wives sat with 
 open doors, running in and out, gossiping over their work ; they 
 liked the noise, they liked this perambulating market — it made 
 the street lively, it brought the neighbours out to look, and it 
 
300 LONDON 
 
 pleased the baby. Then the wagons went ponderously grinding 
 over the round stones of the road, the carts rumbled, the 
 brewers' sledges growled, the chariot rattled, the drivers quar- 
 relled, cursed, and fought. A great American, now, alas ! gone 
 from us, spoke of the continual murmur of London as of Niagara 
 afar off. A hundred years ago he would have spoken of the 
 continual roar. 
 
 At this time the wealth and trade of London had reached a 
 point which surprised and even terrified those who considered 
 the present compared with the past and looked forward to the 
 future. 'On a general view,' writes Northouck in 1772, 'of our 
 national circumstances, it is but too probable that the height of 
 our prosperity is now producing our ruin.' He hears the cry of 
 the discontented : it means, he thinks, ruin. Well, there were 
 to be mighty changes, and still more mighty changes of which he 
 suspects nothing. Yet not ruin. For, whatever happens, the 
 energy and the spirit of the people will remain. Besides, North- 
 ouck and those of his time did not understand that the world is 
 always growing wider. 
 
 The great merchants of the City still lived within the old 
 boundaries : they had their country houses, but they spent 
 most of their time in town, where their houses were stately and 
 commodious, but no longer Palaces like those of theii pre- 
 decessors. Two or three of them remain, but they are rapidly 
 disappearing. One of these, destroyed about six years ago, 
 illustrated the house of a merchant at a time when his offices 
 and his residence were one. The rooms for his clerks were on 
 the ground floor ; the merchant's private room looked out upon 
 a garden at the back. In the basement was his strong-room, 
 constructed of stone, in a deep recess. On the first floor were 
 the living rooms. The garden was not large, but it contained a 
 stone terrace fine enough for a garden of much larger dimensions, 
 a mulberry tree and a vine. 
 
 There were no Palaces left in the City ; no noblemen lived 
 there any longer. The Lord Mayor's Mansion, built in 1750, 
 was the only Palace unless we count Guildhall, the Royal 
 Exchange, Gresham College, and the Halls of the Companies. 
 But in every street except those given up entirely to trade, 
 such as Cheapside, stood the substantial houses of the City 
 Fathers, 
 
 Never before had the City been so wealthy. Despite the 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 301 
 
 continual wars of the eighteenth century, nothing could check 
 the prosperity of the country. French privateers scoured the 
 ocean in chase of our merchantmen ; every East Indiaman had 
 to run the gauntlet all the way from Madeira to Plymouth ; 
 the supremacy of the sea was obstinately disputed by France ; 
 yet more ships escaped than were taken. Our Indiamen fought 
 the privateer and sank him ; our fleets retaliated ; our frigates 
 protected the merchantmen, and when, as happened sometimes, 
 we had the pleasure of fighting Spain as well as France, the 
 balance of captures was greatly in our favour. ' Sir/ said Lord 
 Nelson to the king, when Spain declared war against us, * this 
 makes all the difference. It promised to be a poor war ; it will 
 now be a rich war.* 
 
 But, noble Thames, whilst I can hold a pen, 
 I will divulge thy glory unto men. 
 Thou in the morning, when my corn is scant, 
 Before the evening dost supply my want. 
 
 This was written by the Water Poet, John Taylor, a little later. 
 The river was the most convenient and the most rapid road 
 from one end of London to the other, at a time when the roads 
 were miry and full of holes, and when there were no coaches. 
 And long after coaches became numerous the watermen con- 
 tinued to flourish. There were only two bridges over the river : 
 many places of amusement— the Paris Gardens, Cupid Gardens, 
 St. George's Fields, and Vauxhall — lay on the south side : it 
 was pleasant and quiet on the water, save for the quarrels and 
 the cursing of the watermen. The air was fresh : the view of 
 the City was noble : the river was covered with barges and 
 pleasure boats furnished with banners and streamers of silk ; 
 flocks of swans swimming about — little wonder if the citizens 
 continued to prefer the river to their muddy lanes and noisy 
 streets. Even in the last century the watermen had not ceased 
 to sing as they rowed. They still sang — with a * Heave and 
 hoe, rumbelow ' — their old ballad of * Row the boat, Norman, to 
 thy leman,' made, it was said, on John Norman, first of the 
 Mayors who was rowed to Westminster by water instead of 
 riding, as had been the previous custom. 
 
 Those who have read Professor Seeley*s book on the Ex- 
 tension of Britain know how our conquests, our power, and 
 
302 
 
 LONDON 
 
 our trade increased during that long struggle with France. We 
 had losses ; we made an enemy beyond the Atlantic who should 
 have been our firmest friend and ally ; we were hampered with 
 Continental possessions ; we were continually suffering enormous 
 drains of money and of men ; we were throwing away our lusty 
 youth by hundreds of thousands ; yet we continued to grow 
 stronger and richer every year. The wars advanced trade ; the 
 wars pushed forward our territories ; our increased trade paid 
 for the wars ; the wars provided occupation for younger sons. 
 By this time, too, the Companies were at their richest ; their 
 
 ABOVE BRIDGE 
 
 charities were at their fullest ; their banquets and functions were 
 most lavish and splendid. 
 
 Take the rich Company of Haberdashers alone for its 
 benefactions. This Company maintained two free schools in 
 London and three in the country ; two almshouses in London 
 and two in the country ; it presented to six benefices in the 
 country ; it provided three lectureships in City churches and 
 one in the University of Cambridge ; it gave five exhibitions 
 to Cambridge, and it provided pensions for forty-eight poor 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 303 
 
 men and women. In these charities the Company disbursed 
 about ;^3,400 a year. At the present day it gives away a great 
 deal more owing to the increased value of its property, but as 
 London is so much larger the effect is not so great in pro- 
 portion. This list of charities, again, does not include the 
 execution of certain testamentary and private charities, as broad- 
 cloth to poor widows, gifts to prisoners for debt, payments for 
 ringing the church bell, weekly doles of bread, and so forth. 
 The Haberdashers' Company was one of the Twelve Great 
 Companies, all wealthy. If each of these gave away yearly 
 the sum of ;^2,ooo only, we have ;^24,ooo a year. There 
 were, besides, all the smaller Companies, and not one without 
 some funds for charity, education, or pensions. A boy born in 
 the City might be educated by his father's Company, apprenticed 
 to the Company, taught his trade by the Company, found in 
 work by the Company, feasted once a year by the Company, 
 pensioned by the Company, buried by the Company, and his 
 children looked after by the Company. If he fell into debt, 
 and so arrived at Ludgate Hill Prison, the bounty of the Com- 
 pany followed him there. And ev^en if he disgraced himself 
 and was lodged in Newgate, the Company augmented the daily 
 ration of bread with something more substantial. In all, there 
 were (and are) eighty-four City Companies, representing every 
 trade except those which are of modern origin. Among these 
 are not counted such Companies as the Whitawers, the Fustarers, 
 and the Megusers, long since dissolved. But the Pewterers, the 
 Bowyers, the Fletchers, the Long Bowstring Makers, the Patten 
 Makers, and the Loriners have survived the trades which they 
 were founded to maintain. Some of them have no hall and 
 very small endowments. One, the Card Makers, presents each 
 member of the Company with a pack of playing-cards every 
 year, and with this single act expends, I believe, all the endow- 
 ment which it possesses. 
 
 By poetic licence, quite pardonable when assumed by Austin 
 Dobson or by Praed, we speak of the leisure of the eighteenth 
 century. Where is it — this leisure ? I can find it nowhere. In 
 London City the sober merchant who walks so gravely on 
 'Change is an eager, venturesome trader, pushing out his cargoes 
 into every quarter of the globe, as full of enterprise as an 
 Elizabethan, following the flag wherever that leads, and driving 
 the flag before him. He belongs to a battling, turbulent time. 
 
304 , LONDON 
 
 His blood is full of fight. He makes enormous profits ; some- 
 times he makes enormous losses ; then he breaks ; he goes under ; 
 he never lifts up his head again ; he is submerged — he and his, 
 for the City has plenty of benevolence, but little pity. We are 
 all pushing, struggling, fighting to get ahead. We cannot stop 
 to lift up one that has fallen and is trampled under foot. In the 
 City there stands behind us a Fury armed with a knotted 
 scourge. Let us work, my brothers, let us never cease to work, 
 for this is the terrible, pitiless demon called Bankruptcy. If 
 there is no leisure or quiet among the sober citizens, where shall 
 we look for it? In the country ? We are not here concerned 
 with the country, but I have looked for it there and I cannot 
 find it. 
 
 It was the dream of every tradesman not only to escape this 
 fiend, but in fulness of time to retire from his shop and to have 
 his own country house ; or, if that could not be compassed, to 
 have a box three or four miles from town ; at Stockwell, 
 Clapham, Hoxton, or Bow, or Islington, whither he might drive 
 on Saturday or other days, in a four-wheeled chaise. He loved 
 to add a bow window to the front at which he would sit and watch 
 the people pass, his wine before him, for the admiration and envy 
 of all who beheld. The garden at the back, thirty feet long by 
 twenty broad, he laid out with great elegance. There was a 
 gravel walk at each end, a pasteboard grenadier set up in one 
 walk, and a sun-dial in the other. In the middle there was a 
 basin with two artificial swans, over which he moralised, ' Sir, I 
 bought those fowls seven years ago. They were then as white 
 as could be made. Now they are black. Let us learn that the 
 strongest things decay, and consider the flight of time.' He put 
 weather-cocks on his house-top, and when they pointed different 
 ways he reflected that there is no station so exalted as to be 
 free from the inconsistencies and wants of life. 
 
 His wife, of course, was a notable housekeeper. It is recorded 
 of her that she would never employ a man unless he could whistle. 
 So that when he was sent to draw beer, or to bottle wine, or to 
 pick cherries, or to gather strawberries, by whistling all the time 
 he proved that his mouth was empty, because you cannot 
 whistle with anything in your mouth. She made her husband 
 take off his shoes before going upstairs ; she lamented the 
 gigantic appetites of the journeymen whom they had to keep 
 ' peck and perch ' all the year round ; she loved a pink sash and 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 
 
 305 
 
 a pink ribbon, and when she went abroad she was genteelly 
 * fetched ' by an apprentice or one of the journeymen with 
 candle and lanthorn. 
 
 The amusements and sights of London were the Tower, the 
 Monument, St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey, the British 
 Museum (after the year 1754, when it was first opened), the 
 Royal Exchange, the Bank of England, Guildhall, the East 
 India House, the Custom House, the Excise Office, the Navy 
 Office, the bridges, the Horse Guards, the squares, the Inns of 
 Court, St. James's Palace, the two theatres of Drury Lane and 
 
 Bill - i I ^ ■ « i'.V-T.-t.'v-Lxvf 
 /■jU'" ':!"•;";- -'-•••:'* 
 
 ST. JAMES'S PALACE— MARCH OF THE GUARDS 
 
 Covent Garden, the Opera House, Ranelagh, Sadler's Wells, 
 Vauxhall, Astley's, the Park, the tea-gardens, Don Saltero's, 
 Chelsea, the trials at the Old Bailey, the hangings at Newgate, 
 the Temple Gardens, the parade of the Judges to Westminster 
 Hall, the charity children at St. Paul's, Greenwich Fair, the re- 
 views of the troops, the House of Lords when the King is 
 present and the Peers are robed, Smithfield, Billingsgate, Wool- 
 wich, Chelsea Hospital, Greenwich Hospital, and the suburbs. 
 With these attractions a stranger could get along for a few days 
 without much fear of ennui. 
 
 X 
 
3o6 
 
 LONDON 
 
 The London fairs — Bartholomew, Greenwich, Southwark, 
 May Fair — no longer, of course, pretended to have anything to 
 do with trade. They were simply occasions for holiday-making 
 and indulgence in undisguised licence and profligacy. They 
 had bull and bear baiting, cock-fighting, prize-fighting, cudgel- 
 playing — these of course. They also had their theatres and 
 their shows and their jugglers. They had races of women, fights 
 of women, and dancing of girls for a prize. They continued 
 the old morris dance of five men, Maid Marian and Tom Fool, 
 the last with a fox-brush in his hat and bells on his legs and his 
 
 RANELAGH 
 
 coat tails. They were fond of rope-dancing — in a word, the 
 fairs drew together all the rascality of the town and the country 
 around. May Fair was stopped in the year 1708, but was re- 
 vived some years afterward. Southwark Fair, which was opened 
 by the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs riding over the bridge through 
 the Borough, was not suppressed till 1763. The only good 
 thing it did was to collect money for the poor prisoners of Mar- 
 shalsea prison. Bartholomew and Greenwich Fair continued 
 till thirty or forty years ago. 
 
 The picturesqueness of the time is greatly due to the dress. 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 
 
 307 
 
 We all know how effective on the stage or at a fancy ball is the 
 dress of the year 1750. Never had gallant youth a better chance 
 of displaying his manly charms. The flowered waistcoat tight 
 to the figure, the white satin coat, the gold-laced hat, the ruffles 
 and dainty necktie, the sword and the sword-sash, the powdered 
 wig, the shaven face, the silk stockings and gold- buckled shoes — 
 with what an air the young coxcomb advances and with what a 
 grace he handles his clouded cane and proffers his snuff-box ! 
 Nothing like it remains in this century of ours. And the ladies 
 
 W'JfJjt^'L.^^^^^:^ : 
 
 NORTH VIEW OF THE 
 MARSH ALSEA, SOUTHVVARK 
 
 matched the men in splendour of dress, until the * swing swang' of 
 the extravagant hoop spoiled all. Here comes one, on her way to 
 church, where she will distract the men from their prayers with 
 her beauty, and the women with her dress ; she has a flowered 
 silk body and cream-coloured skirts trimmed with lace ; she has 
 light-blue shoulder- knots ; she wears an amber necklace, brown 
 Swedish gloves, and a silver bracelet ; she has a flowered silk 
 belt of green and grey and yellow, with a bow at the side, and 
 a brown straw hat with flowers of green and yellow. * Sir,* 
 
 • X2 
 
3o8 LONDON 
 
 says one who watches her with admiration, * she is all apple- 
 blossom.' 
 
 The white satin coat is not often seen east of Temple Bar. 
 See the sober citizen approaching : he is dressed in brown 
 stockings ; he has laced ruffles and a shirt of snowy whiteness ; 
 his shoes have silver buckles ; his wig is dark grizzle, full- 
 bottomed ; he carries his hat under his left arm, and a gold- 
 headed stick in his right hand. He is accosted by a wreck — 
 there are always some of these about London streets — who 
 has struck upon the rock of bankruptcy and gone down. He, 
 too, is dressed in brown, but where are the ruffles ? Where 
 is the shirt ? The waistcoat buttoned high shows no shirt ; his 
 stockings are of black worsted, darned and in holes ; his shoes 
 are slipshod, without buckles. Alas ! poor gentleman ! And 
 his wig is an old grizzle, uncombed, undressed, dirty, which 
 has been used for rubbing shoes by a shoeblack. On the other 
 side of the street walks one, followed by a 'prentice carrying a 
 bundle. It is a mercer of Cheapside, taking some stuff to a lady. 
 He wears black cloth, not brown ; he has a white tye-wig, white 
 silk stockings, muslin ruffles, and japanned pumps. Here comes 
 a mechanic : he wears a warm waistcoat with long sleeves, grey, 
 worsted stockings, stout shoes, a three-cornered hat, and an 
 apron. All working-men wear an apron ; it is a mark of their 
 condition. They are no more ashamed of their apron than 
 your scarlet-coated captain is ashamed of his uniform. 
 
 Let us note the whiteness of the shirts and ruffles : a merchant 
 will change his shirt three times a day ; it is a custom of the 
 City thus to present snow-white linen. The clerks, we see, wear 
 wigs like their masters, but they are smaller. The varieties of 
 wigs are endless. Those that decorate the heads of the clerks 
 are not the full-bottomed wig, to assume which would be pre- 
 sumptuous in one in service. Most of the mechanics wear their 
 hair tied behind ; the rustics, sailors, stevedores, watermen, and 
 riversidemen generally wear it long, loose, and unkempt. There 
 is a great trade in second-hand wigs. In Rosemary Lane there 
 is a wig lottery. You pay sixpence, and you dip in a cask for 
 an old wig. It may turn out quite a presentable thing, and it 
 may be worthless. Here is a company of sailors rolling along 
 armed with clubs. They are bound to Ratclifife, where, this 
 evening, when the men are all drinking in the taverns, there will 
 be a press. Their hats are three-cornered, they wear blue jackets, 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 
 
 309 
 
 blue shirts, and blue petticoats. Their hair hangs about their 
 ears. Beside them marches the lieutenant in the new uniform 
 of blue faced with white. 
 
 Let us consider the private life of the people day by day. 
 For this purpose we must not go to the essayists or the dramas. 
 The novels of the time afford some help ; books corresponding 
 to our directories, almanacks, old account books, are the real 
 
 '<^-.>^ 
 
 
 CHARING CROSS 
 
 guides to a reconstruction of life as it was about the year 1750. 
 From such books as these the following notes are derived. 
 
 The most expensive parts of the town were the streets round 
 St. Paul's Churchyard, Cheapside, and the Royal Exchange. 
 Charing Cross, Covent Garden, and St James's lie outside our 
 limits. Here the rent of a moderate house was from a hundred 
 to a hundred and fifty guineas a year. In less central places 
 the rents were not more than half as much. There were six or 
 seven fire insurance offices. The premium for insurance on 
 houses and goods not called hazardous was generally two shillings 
 
310 LONDON 
 
 per cent, on any sum under ;^i,ooo, half a crown on all sums 
 between ;^i,ooo and ;^2,ooo, and three and sixpence on all sums 
 over i^3,ooo, so that a man insuring his house and furniture for 
 ;f 2,500 would pay an annual premium of £4 js. 6d. 
 
 The taxes of a house amounted to about half the rent. 
 There was the land-tax of four shillings in the pound ; the 
 house-tax of sixpence to a shilling in the pound ; the poor 
 rate, varying from one shilling to six shillings in the pound ; 
 the window-tax, which made you pay first three shillings for 
 your house, and then, with certain exceptions, twopence extra 
 for every window, so that a house of fourteen windows paid 
 four and sixpence. In the year 1784 this tax was increased in 
 order to take the duty off tea. The churchwardens' rate for 
 repairing the church ; the paving-rate, of one and sixpence in 
 the pound ; the watch ; the Easter offerings, which had become 
 optional ; the water-rate, varying from twenty-four shillings to 
 thirty shillings a year. 
 
 The common practice of bakers and milkmen was to keep a 
 tally on the doorpost with chalk. One advantage of this method 
 was that a mark might be added when the maid was not looking. 
 The price of meat was about a third of the present prices ; beef 
 being fourpence a pound, mutton fourpence halfpenny, and veal 
 sixpence. Chicken were commonly sold at two and sixpence 
 the pair ; eggs were sometimes three and sometimes eight for 
 fourpence, according to the time of the year. Coals seem to 
 have cost about forty shillings a ton ; but this is uncertain. 
 Candles were eight and fourpence a dozen for ' dips,' and nine 
 and fourpence a dozen for ' moulds ' ; wax candles were two and 
 tenpence a pound. For outdoor lamps train oil was used, and 
 for indoors spermaceti oil. For the daily dressing of the hair, 
 hairdressers were engaged at seven shillings to a guinea a month. 
 Servants were hired at register offices, but they were often of 
 very bad character, with forged papers. The wages given were : 
 to women as cooks, ;^I2 a year; lady's maids, ;£"i2 to ;^20 ; 
 housemaids from £y to £g ; footmen, £14. and a livery. Servants 
 found their own tea and sugar, if they wanted any. Board 
 wages were ten and sixpence a week to an upper servant ; seven 
 shillings to an under servant. Every householder was liable to 
 serve as churchwarden, overseer for the poor, constable — but he 
 could serve by deputy— and j ury man. Peers, clergymen, lawyers, 
 members of Parliament, physicians, and surgeons were exempted. 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 311 
 
 The principle of life assurance was already well established, 
 but not yet in general use. There seem to have been no more 
 than four companies for life assurance. The post office rates 
 varied with the distance. A letter from London to any place 
 not exceeding one stage cost twopence ; under two stages, three- 
 pence ; under eight miles, fourpence ; under 1 50 miles, fivepence ; 
 above 1 50 miles, to any place in England, sixpence ; to Scotland, 
 sevenpence ; to Ireland, sixpence ; to America and the West 
 Indies, a shilling ; to any part of Europe, a shilling to eighteen- 
 pence. There was also a penny post, first set up in London by 
 a private person. This had five principal offices. Letters or 
 packets not exceeding four ounces in weight were carried about 
 the City for one penny, and delivered in the suburbs for a penny 
 more. There w^ere no bank-notes of less than ;^20 before the 
 year 1759 ; but when the smaller notes were issued, and came into 
 general use, people very soon found out the plan of cutting them 
 in two for safety in transmission by post. 
 
 Mail-coaches started every night at eight o'clock with a 
 guard. They were timed for seven miles an hour, and the fare 
 for passengers was fourpence a mile. A passenger to Bristol, for 
 example, who now pays twenty shillings first-class fare and does 
 the journey in two hours and a half, then paid thirty-three and 
 fourpence and took fourteen hours and a quarter. A great many 
 of the mails started from the Swan with Two Necks, a great 
 hostelry and receiving-place in Lad Lane. The place is now 
 swept away with Lad Lane itself It stood in the part of 
 Gresham Street which runs between Wood Street and Milk 
 Street. 
 
 The stage coaches from different parts of London were innu- 
 merable, as were also the stage-wagons and the hoys. The 
 coaches charged the passengers threepence a mile. Hackney 
 coaches ran for shilling and eighteenpenny fares. There were 
 hackney-chairs. In the City there were regular porters for 
 carrying parcels and letters. 
 
 There were nine morning papers, of which the * Morning 
 Post' still survives. They were all published at threepence. 
 There were eight evening papers, which came out three times a 
 week. And there were three or four weekly papers, intended 
 chiefly for the country. 
 
 The stamps which had to be bought with anything were a 
 grievous burden. A pair of gloves worth tenpence — stamp of 
 
312 
 
 LONDON 
 
 one penny ; worth one and fourpence — stamp of twopence ; above 
 one and fourpence — stamp of fourpence. Penalty for selling 
 without a stamp, £s. Hats were taxed in like manner. Inven- 
 tories and catalogues were stamped ; an apprentice's indentures 
 were stamped ; every newspaper paid a stamp of three halfpence. 
 In the year 1753 there were seven millions and a half of stamps 
 issued to the journals. 
 
 We have seen what it cost a respectable householder to pay 
 his way in the time of Charles the Second. The following shows 
 the cost of living a hundred years later. The house is supposed 
 to consist of husband and wife, four children, and two maids : 
 
 Food, coals, candles, small beer (of which 12 gallons are 
 allowed — that is, 48 quarts, or an average of one quart a day 
 per head), soap, starch, and all kinds of odds and ends are 
 reckoned at £$ 12s. $d. a week, or £i^g i%s. Zd. a year ; clothes, 
 including hairdressing, ^^64 ; pocket expenses, \;^ 15 \2s.\ occa- 
 sional illness, £i\ ; schooling, £Z\ wages, £\\ \os. ; rent and 
 taxes, £66 ; entertainments, wine, &c., £^0 \(^s. : making a total 
 of ;£"400 a year. 
 
 If we take the same family with the same scale of living at 
 the present day, we shall arrive at the difference in the cost of 
 things : 
 
 
 
 
 1890 
 
 1760 
 
 
 
 
 £ 
 
 £ 
 
 Food, coals, and ale, &c. 
 
 . 
 
 
 , 420 
 
 190 
 
 Clothes .... 
 
 . 
 
 
 . 120 
 
 64 
 
 Pocket expenses . 
 
 . 
 
 
 • 45 
 
 15 
 
 School .... 
 
 , 
 
 
 143 
 
 8 
 
 Illness , . . . 
 
 . 
 
 
 42 
 
 II 
 
 Wages of two maids . 
 
 . 
 
 
 42 
 
 14 
 
 Rent and taxes (not counting 
 
 income- 
 
 
 
 tax) .... 
 
 . 
 
 
 ^50 
 
 66 
 
 Travelling . , . . 
 
 . 
 
 
 . 150 
 
 nil 
 
 Books, Magazines, and Journals (say) 
 
 40 
 
 nil 
 
 Wine 
 
 , 
 
 
 70 
 
 31 
 
 On furniture and the house . 
 
 , 
 
 
 100 
 
 7lil 
 
 A comparison of the figures shows a very considerable raising 
 of the standard as regards comfort and even necessaries. It is 
 true that the modern figures have been taken from the accounts 
 of a family which spends every year from £1,200 to ;^ 1,400. 
 
 It may be remarked in these figures that schooling is ex- 
 tremely cheap, viz., £Z per four children, or ten shillings a quarter 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 
 
 313 
 
 for each child. Therefore for a schoolmaster to get an income 
 of .£^250 a year, out of which he would have to maintain assist- 
 ants, he must have 125 scholars. The ' pocket expenses' include 
 letters, and all for six shillings a week, which is indeed moderate. 
 Entertainments, wine, &c., are all lumped together, showing that 
 wine must be considered a very rare indulgence, and that small 
 beer is the daily beverage. Tea is set down at two shillings a 
 
 A DISH OF TEA 
 
 week. In the year 1728 tea was thirteen shillings a pound, but 
 by 1760 it had gone down to about six shillings a pound, so that 
 a third of a pound was allowed every week. This shows a care- 
 ful measurement of the spoonful. Of course there was not as 
 yet any tea allowed to the servants. Coals are estimated at /■14 
 a year — two fires in winter, one in summer. Repairs to furniture, 
 table-linen, sheets, &c., are set down at two shillings a week, or 
 
314 LONDON 
 
 five guineas a year. Happy the household which can now man- 
 age this item at six times that amount. 
 
 It might be thought that by the middle of the last century 
 the beverage of tea was universally taken in this country. This 
 was by no means the case. The quantity of tea imported about 
 this time amounted to no more than three-quarters of a pound 
 per annum for every person in the three kingdoms, whereas it is 
 now very nearly six pounds per annum for every head. It was, 
 and had been for fifty years, a fashionable drink, and it had now 
 become greatly in use — or, at all events, greatly desired — by 
 women of all kinds. The men drank little of it ; men in the 
 country and working-men not at all. Its use was not so far 
 general as to stop the discussion which still continued as to its 
 virtues. In the year 1749 it was ten shillings a pound. In 1758 
 a pamphlet was written by an anonymous writer on the good 
 and bad effects of drinking tea. We learn from this that the 
 author is alarmed at the spreading of the custom of tea-drinking, 
 especially by ' Persons of an inferior rank and mean Abilities.' 
 * It may not,' he says, ' be altogether above the reach of the better 
 Sort of Tradesmen's Wives and Country Dames. But nowadays 
 Persons of the Lowest Class vainly imitate their Betters by 
 striving to be in the fashion, and prevalent Custom hath intro- 
 duced it into every Cottage, and every Gammer must have her 
 tea twice a day.' The latter statement is rank exaggeration, as 
 the imports show. 
 
 Especially the author finds fault with afternoon tea. * It is 
 very hurtful/ he says, * to those who work hard and live low ; 
 when taken in company with gossips, a dram too often follows ; 
 then comes scandal, with falsehoods, perversions, and backbitings ; 
 it is an expense which very few can afford ; it is a waste of time 
 which ought to be spent in spinning, knitting, making clothes 
 for the children. Oh, I here with confusion stop, and know not 
 how sufficiently to bewail my grief to you, delightful fair ! who, 
 by prevalent custom, are led into one of the worst of habits, ren- 
 dering you lost to yourselves, and unfit for the comforts you were 
 first designed. Be careful ; be wise ; refuse the bait ; fly from a 
 temptation productive of so many ills. You charming guiltless 
 young ones, who innocently at home partake of this genteel re- 
 gale, avoid the public meetings of low crafty gossips, who will 
 use persuasions for you to drink tea with them and some others 
 of their own stamp.' 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 315 
 
 Another bad consequence of afternoon tea is that it induces 
 the little tradesmen's wives, after selling something, to offer 
 their customer tea, and after that a dram, and so vanish all the 
 profits. 
 
 But the writer objects altogether to tea. He cannot find that 
 it possesses any merits. The hot water, the cream and the sugar, 
 he says, are responsible for all the good effects of tea-drinking. . 
 The tea itself is responsible for all the bad effects. He enume- 
 rates the opinions advanced by physicians. The learned Dr. 
 Pauli, physician to the King of Denmark, shows that the virtues 
 ascribed to it are local, and do not cross the seas into Europe. 
 Men over forty, he thinks, should never use it, because it is a 
 desiccative ; the herb betony should be taken by them, because 
 it has all the virtues and none of the vices of tea. Schroder and 
 Quincey believed it good for every complaint ; the learned 
 Pechlin held that it is good for scorbutic cases, but thought that 
 veronica and Paul's betony are just as good. Dr. Hunt enume- 
 rates many diseases for which its occasional use is good. Finally, 
 the writer of the pamphlet concludes that tea will rapidly become 
 cheaper ; that it will then go out of fashion ; and that it will be 
 replaced by our own sage, which, he says, makes a much more 
 wholesome drink, with hot water, cream, and sugar. 
 
 But a far greater person than this anonymous writer set his 
 face and the whole force of his authority and example against 
 the drinking of tea. This was no other than John Wesley, who, 
 in the year 1748, issued a * Letter to a Friend, concerning Tea.* 
 The following extracts give the practical part of the letter, omit- 
 ting the very strange argument against tea-drinking based upon 
 Scripture : 
 
 Twenty-nine years ago, when I had spent a few months at Oxford^ 
 having, as I apprehended, an exceeding good Constitution, and being 
 otherwise in Health, I was a little surprised at some Symptoms of a 
 Paralytick Disorder. I could not imagine what should occasion that 
 shaking of my Hand ; till I observed it was always worst after Break- 
 fast, and that if I intermitted drinking Tea for two or three Days, it 
 did not shake at all. Upon Inquiry, I found Tea had the same Effect 
 upon others also of my Acquaintance ; and therefore saw, that this was 
 one of its natural Effects (as several Physicians have often remarked), 
 especially when it is largely and frequently drank ; and most of all on 
 Persons of weak Nerves. Upon this I lessened the Quantity, drank it 
 weaker, and added more Milk and Sugar. But still, for above six and 
 twenty Years, I was more or less subject to the same Disorder. 
 
3i6 LONDON 
 
 July was two Years, I began to observe, that abundance of the 
 People in London^ with whom I conversed, laboured under the same, 
 and many other Paralytick Disorders, and that in a much higher 
 Degree ; insomuch that some of their Nerves were quite unstrung ; 
 their bodily Strength was quite decay'd, and they could not go through 
 their daily Labour. I inquired, ' Are you not an hard Drinker ? ' And 
 was answered by one and another, ' No, indeed. Sir, not I ! I drink 
 scarce any Thing but a little Tea, Morning and Night.' I immediately 
 remembered my own Case ; and after weighing the matter thoroughly, 
 easily gathered from many concurring Circumstances, that it was the 
 same Case with them. 
 
 I considered, ' What an Advantage would it be, to these poor en- 
 feebled People, if they would leave off what so manifestly impairs their 
 Health, and thereby hurts their Business also ? — Is there Nothing 
 equally cheap which they could use ? Yes, surely : And cheaper too. 
 If they used English Herbs in its stead (which would cost either 
 Nothing, or what is next to Nothing), with the same Bread, Butter, 
 and Milk, they would save just the Price of the Tea. And hereby they 
 might not only lessen their Pain, but in some Degree their Poverty 
 too. . . .' 
 
 Immediately it struck into my Mind, ' But Example must go before 
 Precept. Therefore I must not plead an Exemption for myself, from a 
 daily Practice of twenty-seven Years. I must begin.' I did so. I left 
 it off myself in August^ 1746. And I have now had suf^cient Time to 
 try the Effects, which have fully answered my Expectation : My Para- 
 lytick Complaints are all gone : My Hand is as steady as it was at Fifteen: 
 Although I must expect that, or other Weaknesses, soon : as I decline 
 into the Vale of Years. And so considerable a Difference do I find in 
 my Expence, that I can make it appear, from the Accounts now in 
 being, ivs. only those four Families at London, Bristol, Kingswood, and 
 Newcastle, I save upwards of fifty Pounds a Year. 
 
 The first to whom I explained these Things at large, and whom I 
 advised to set the same Example to their Brethren, were, a few of those, 
 who rejoice to assist my Brother and me, as our Sons in the Gospel. 
 A Week after I proposed it to about forty of those, whom I believed to 
 be strong in Faith : And to the next Morning to about sixty more, in- 
 treating them all, to speak their Minds freely. They did so : and in the 
 End, saw the Good which might insue ; yielded to the Force of Scrip- 
 ture and Reason : And resolved all (but two or three) by the Grace of 
 God, to make the Trial without Delay. 
 
 If you are sincere in this Plea ; if you do not talk of your Health, 
 while the real Objection is your Inclination, make a fair Trial thus, 
 I. TalLe half a Pint of Milk every Morning, with a little Bread, not 
 boiled, but warmed only ; (a Man in tolerable Health might double the 
 Quantity.) 2. If this is too heavy, add as much Water, and boil it to- 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 317 
 
 gelher with a Spoonful of Oatmeal. 3. If this agrees not, try half a 
 Pint, or a little more, of Water-gruel, neither thick nor thin ; not sweet- 
 ened (for that may be apt to make you sick) but with a very little Butter, 
 Salt, and Bread. 4. If this disagrees, try Sage, green Balm, Mint, or 
 Pennyroyal Tea, infusing only so much of the Herb as just to change 
 the Colour of the Water. 5. Try two or three of these mixed, in various 
 Proportions. 6. Try ten or twelve other English herbs. 7. Try Foltron^ 
 a Mixture of Herbs to be had at many Grocers, far healthier as well as 
 cheaper than Tea. 8. Try Coco. If after having tried each of these 
 for a Week or ten Days, you find none of them well agree with your 
 Constitution, then use (weak Green) Tea again : But at the same Time 
 know. That your having used it so long, has brought you near the 
 Chambers of Death. 
 
 The still-room was of the greatest importance to the house- 
 wife. She no longer distilled strong waters for cordials, but she 
 made her preserves and her pickles. She made rose-water and 
 lavender water and hysterical water, plague water, angelica water, 
 and all kinds of wonderful waters whose names and virtues are 
 now quite forgotten. The horror of the plague which survived 
 to a hundred years ago is shown by the extraordinary compli- 
 cations of the plague mixture. We are to take a pound each of 
 twenty roots, sixteen flowers, nineteen seeds ; we are to take 
 also an ounce each of nutmeg, cloves and mace ; we are to shred 
 the flowers, bruise the berries, and pound the roots and spices ; 
 to these we must add a peck of green walnuts ; after mixing all 
 together they must be steeped in wine lees ; after a week they 
 must be distilled. 
 
 She also made cherry brandy, currant gin, damson brandy, 
 and certain medicinal wines or confections, of which the following 
 is a specimen. It is called Gascony wine. It comforts the vital 
 parts, cures dropsy, and keeps the old alive. Yet we have 
 neglected so sovereign a medicine ! 
 
 * Take ginger, galingale, cinnamon, nutmeg, grains of paradise, 
 cloves bruised, fennel seed, caraway seeds, origanum, one ounce 
 each. Next, take sage, wild marjorum, pennyroyal, mint, red 
 roses, thyme, pellitory, rosemary, wild thyme, camomile, lavender, 
 one handful of each. Beat the spices small, bruise the herbs, 
 put all into a limbeck with wine for twelve hours ; then distil.' 
 
 The great thing was to have as many ingredients as possible. 
 Thus the plague water took fifty-nine ingredients ; the famous 
 water called * Mithridate ' took forty-six ; and the Venice 
 
3i3 LONDON 
 
 treacle, sixty-two. When they were once made, they were war- 
 ranted to ' rectify and maintain the body, clarify the blood, surfle 
 the cheek, perfume the skin, tinct the hair, and lengthen the 
 appetite.' 
 
 The London citizen of the lower class never called in a 
 physician unless he was in immediate danger ; the herbalist 
 physicked him, and the wise woman. Very often his own wife was 
 an abyss of learning as to herbs and their properties ; the bone- 
 setter belonged to a distinct branch of the medical profession. 
 There were apothecaries who prescribed as well as sold drugs. 
 For instance, early in the century, one Dalmahoy kept a shop on 
 Ludgate Hill, where he sold, among other things, drugs, potions, 
 electuaries, powders, sweetmeats, washes for the complexion, 
 scented hair-oil pomades, dentifrices, love charms, Italian masks 
 to sleep in, spermaceti salt, and scammony squills. And the 
 doctor who wished to attract the confidence of citizens found a 
 little stage management useful. He wore black, of course, with 
 a huge wig ; he carried a gold-headed cane, with a pomander 
 box on the top ; he kept his hands always in a muff, so that 
 they might be soft, warm to the touch, and delicate ; he hung 
 his consulting-room with looking-glasses, and he littered it with 
 vials ; he had on the mantelshelf a skull, and hanging to the 
 wall a skeleton of a monkey ; on his table stood a folio in Greek ; 
 and he preserved a Castilian gravity of countenance. Besides 
 the physician, the apothecary, the herbalist, and the wise woman, 
 there was the barber-surgeon. His pole was twjned with colours 
 three — white, red, and blue. But I know not how long into the 
 century the alliance of surgeon and barber continued. 
 
 One must not overlook the quack, who plays such a con- 
 spicuous part in the last century. There was certainly one quack 
 — and sometimes half a dozen — at every fair. Some of them 
 went about with a simple caravan, pulling teeth and selling 
 potions and pills and powders warranted to cure every disorder. 
 Some of them, more ambitious, drove round the country in 
 coaches. They dressed in great wigs and black velvet ; they 
 had a stage in front of their consulting-rooms, on which a 
 mountebank tumbled, a girl danced on the tight-rope, and a 
 band of music played. And the people believed in them, just 
 as they believe nowadays in the fellow who advertises his pills 
 or his powders, certain to cure everybody. It is only changing 
 the coach, the caravan, and the stage for the advertisement 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 319 
 
 columns, with no more expense for travelling, horses, mounte- 
 bank, or music. It is just the same whether we sell * angelic 
 snuff' that will cure most things, or * royal snuff' that will cure 
 the rest, or electuaries, or distilled and medicated water that 
 will even make an old wig new. 
 
 One who has looked at Mrs. Glasse's wonderful book on 
 Cookery, and reflects upon the variety and wealth of dishes 
 which then graced the board, would not lightly approach the 
 subject of food. Yet there are a few plats^ favourites with the 
 people, which may be noticed. Sage tea, for instance, with 
 bread and butter, is no longer taken for breakfast ; and some of 
 the following dishes have disappeared : hasty pudding, made of 
 flour and water boiled together, to which dabs of butter and 
 spoonsful of brown sugar were added when it was poured out of 
 the pot — no one now ever sees sugar quite so brown as that 
 which the West Indies used to send over a hundred and fifty 
 years ago. Onion pottage has assumed the more complex form 
 of soup. A bean tansy was once universally beloved : there 
 were two forms of it ; in the first, after bruising your beans, you 
 put them in a dish with pepper, salt, cloves, mace, the yolks of 
 six eggs, a quarter of a pound of butter, and some slices of 
 bacon. This you baked. The other form was when you mixed 
 beans, biscuits, sugar, sack, cream, and baked all in a dish with 
 garnish of candied orange peel. There were drinks in endless 
 variety, such as purl. Old Pharaoh, knock down, humtie-dumtie, 
 stipple shouldree — names in this degenerate age, and nothing 
 more. We can hardly understand, either, the various possets, 
 punch in its hundred and fifty branches, raw shrub — which still 
 stands in old-fashioned bars — and the various cups, porter cup, 
 cider cup, port-wine cup, ^g^ flip, rum-booze, and the rest. 
 
 The drinking of the last century went far b'eyond anything 
 ever recorded ; all classes alike drank ; they began to drink hard 
 somewhere about the year 1730, and they kept it up for a hun- 
 dred years with great spirit and admirable results, which we, 
 their grandchildren, are now illustrating. The clergy, grave and 
 sober merchants, lawyers, judges, the most responsible people, 
 drank freely ; men about town, officers. Templars, tradesmen 
 drank more than freely ; the lowest classes spent all their money 
 in drink, especially in gin, upon which they could get drunk for 
 twopence. In the year 1736 there were 7,044 gin-shops in 
 London — one house in six — and 3,200 alehouses where gin was 
 
320 LONDON 
 
 secretly sold. The people all went mad after gin. The dinner- 
 hour was at two for the better sort. Mrs. Glasse plainly shows 
 that the living was extremely good, and that expense among 
 people of easy circumstances was not much regarded where the 
 table was concerned. Certain dishes, as in Tudor days, belonged 
 to certain days, as veal and a gammon of bacon and a tansy 
 pudding on Easter-day, or a roast goose at Michaelmas ; red 
 herrings and salt fish, with leeks, parsnips, and pease in Lent ; 
 at Martinmas, salt beef; at Midsummer, roast beef with butter 
 and beans ; at All Saints, pork and souse, * spats and spurling.' 
 They were great at puddings — one may find many an excel- 
 lent recipe, long since forgotten, in Mrs. Glasse. For dessert 
 they had sweetmeats, fruits, liqueurs, such as ros so/is, rich wines, 
 such as Lisbon and Madeira, or, where there were men in com- 
 pany, port. In the morning they drank tea and chocolate. It is 
 pretty clear that the real business of the day was done before 
 dinner. That, in fact, was the custom up to twenty years ago in 
 certain Yorkshire towns, where everybody dined at two o'clock 
 The clerks were practically left to take care of the offices in the 
 afternoon, and the masters sat over their wine. It must, one 
 reflects, be a large business indeed where the masters cannot get 
 through their share by two o'clock. 
 
 In the evening every man had his club or coffee-house. 
 We know that Dr. Johnson was unhappy unless he had a club 
 for the evening. There were clubs for every class : they met at 
 taverns : they gradually superseded the coffee-houses for evening 
 purposes. The City coffee-houses, however, became places where 
 a great deal of business was carried on. Thus, at the Baltic was 
 a subscription room for merchants and brokers engaged in the 
 Russia trade ; the Chapter, of Paternoster Row, was the resort 
 of booksellers ; the Jamaica was a house of West Indian trade ; 
 Garraway's, Robin's, Jonathan's, the Jerusalem, Lloyd's, were all 
 City coffee-houses turned into rendezvous for merchants. The 
 clubs of the last century deserve a separate paper for themselves. 
 The London citizen went to his club every evening. He there 
 solemnly discussed the news of the day, smoked his pipe of 
 tobacco, drank his punch, and went home by ten o'clock. The 
 club was the social life of the City. For the ladies there was 
 their own social life. Women lived much more with other 
 women ; they had their visits and society among each other in 
 the daytime. While the men worked at their shops and offices, 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 321 
 
 the women gadded about ; in the evening they sat at home 
 while the men went out. In one family of my acquaintance 
 there is a tradition belonging to the end of the last century, that 
 when the then head of the house came home at ten the girls all 
 hurried off to bed, the reason being that the good man's temper 
 at the late hour, what with the fatigues of the day and the punch 
 of the evening, was by no means uncertain. 
 
 A manuscript diary of a middle class family belonging to 
 the time of George the First shows anything but a stay-at-home 
 life. The ladies were always going about. But they stayed at 
 home in the evenings. There was a very good reason why the 
 women should stay at home. The streets were infested with 
 prowling thieves and with dangerous bullies ; no woman could 
 go out after dark in the City without an escort of her father's 
 apprentices or his men-servants. 
 
 In 1744 the Lord Mayor com- \JU /^t^^^m^^a.A.JC^ 
 
 plains that ' confederacies of evil- irr^^x^f^v^ 
 
 disposed persons armed with ' ^ 
 
 bludgeons, pistols, and cutlasses, 
 
 infest lanes and private passages,' 
 
 and issue forth to rob and wound 
 
 peaceful people. Further, that 
 
 these gangs have defeated, visiting card 
 
 wounded, and killed the officers 
 
 of justice sent against them. As yet they had not arrived at 
 
 the simple expedient of strengthening the police. 
 
 As for the dangers of venturing out after dark, they are 
 summed up by Johnson. 
 
 Prepare for death if here at night you roam. 
 And sign your will before you step from home. 
 Some fiery fop, with new commission vain, 
 Who sleeps in brambles till he kills his man— 
 Some frolic drunkard reeling from a feast, 
 Provokes a broil and stabs you for a jest. 
 Yet even these heroes mischievously gay, 
 Lords of the street and terrors of the way, 
 Flushed as they are with folly, youth, and wine, 
 Their prudent insults to the poor confine : 
 Afar they mark the flambeau's bright approach, 
 And shun the shining train and golden coach. 
 
 The occupations of a young lady — not a lady of the highest 
 
 Y 
 
322 
 
 LONDON 
 
 fashion — of this time are given by a contemporary writer. He 
 says that she makes tippets, works handkerchiefs in catgut, col- 
 lects shells, makes grottoes, copies music, paints, cuts out figures 
 and landscapes, and makes screens. She dances a minuet or 
 cotillon, and she can play ombre, lansquenet, quadrille, and 
 Pope Joan. These are frivolous accomplishments, but the 
 writer says nothing of the morning's work — the distilling of 
 creams, the confecting of cakes and puddings and sauces, the 
 needle-work, and all the useful things. When these were done 
 
 VAUXIIALL 
 
 why should not the poor girl show her accomplishments and 
 taste in the cutting out of landscapes with a pair of scissors ? 
 
 They certainly did not always stay at home. In the summer 
 they sometimes went to Vauxhall, where the girls enjoyed the 
 sight of the wicked world as much as they liked the singing, 
 and the supper, and the punch that followed. 
 
 We have quite lost the mughouse. This was a kind of music- 
 hall, a large room where only men were admitted, and where ale 
 or stout was the only drink consumed. Every man had his 
 pipe ; there was a president, a harp was played at one end of 
 the room, and out of the company present one after the other 
 stood up to sing. Between the songs there were toasts and 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 323 
 
 speeches, sometimes of a political kind, and the people drank to 
 each other from table to table. 
 
 It was a great fighting time. Every man who went abroad 
 knew that he might have to fight to defend himself against 
 footpad or bully. Most men carried a stout stick. When Dr. 
 Johnson heard that a man had threatened to horsewhip him, he 
 ordered a thick cudgel and was easy in his mind. There were 
 no police, and therefore a man had to fight. It cannot be doubted 
 that the martial spirit of the country, which during the whole 
 century was extraordinary, was greatly maintained by the prac- 
 tice of fighting, which prevailed alike in all ranks. Too much 
 order is not all pure gain. If we have got rid of the Mohocks 
 and street scourers, we have lost a good deal of that readiness 
 to fight which firmly met those Mohocks and made them fly. 
 
 I suppose that one can become accustomed to everything. 
 But the gibbets which one saw stuck up everywhere, along the 
 Edgeware Road, on the river-side, on Blackheath, on Hampstead 
 Heath, or Kennington Common, must have been an unpleasing 
 sight. Some of the gibbets remained until early in this century. 
 
 The subject of beer is of world-wide importance. It must 
 be understood that all through the century the mystery of brew- 
 ing was continually advancing. We finally shook off the heresies 
 of broom, bay-berries, and ivy-berries as flavouring things for 
 beer ; we perfected the manufacture of stout. There sprang up 
 during the century what hardly existed before — a critical feeling 
 for beer. It may be found in the poets and in the- novelists. 
 Goldsmith has it ; Fielding has it. There were over fifty brewers 
 in London, where, as a national drink, it entirely displaced wine. 
 The inns vied with each other in the excellence of their tap, 
 
 Where the Red Lion, staring o'er the way, 
 
 Invites each passing stranger that can pay; 
 
 Where Calvert's broth and Parson's black champagne 
 
 Regftle the drabs and bloods of Drury Lane. 
 
 There were many houses where every night there was singing and 
 playing, to the accompaniment of beer alone ; and there was at 
 least one famous debating club — the Robin Hood — where stout 
 was the only drink permissible. 
 
 Here are one or two notes of domestic interest. The washing 
 of the house was always done at home. And, which was a very 
 curious custom, the washerwoman began her work at midnight. 
 
 • Y 2 
 
324 LONDON 
 
 Why this was so ordered I know not ; but there must have been 
 some reason. During the many wars of the century wheat went 
 up to an incredible price. One year it was 104^". a quarter, so 
 that bread was three times as dear as it is at present. House- 
 wives in those times cut their bread with their own hands 
 and kept it until it was stale. If you wanted a place under 
 Government you could buy one ; the sum of ;£"500 would get 
 you a comfortable berth in the Victualling Office, for instance, 
 where the perquisites, pickings, and bribes for contracts made 
 the service worth having. Members of Parliament, who had the 
 privilege of franking letters, sometimes sold the right for ;^300 
 a year. Ale-houses were marked by chequers on the door-post 
 — to this day the Chequers is a common tavern sign. Bakers 
 had a lattice at their doors. All tradesmen — not servants only, 
 but master tradesmen — asked for Christmas-boxes. The Fleet 
 weddings went on merrily. There was great feasting on the 
 occasion of a wedding duly conducted in the parish church. On 
 the day of the wedding the bridegroom himself waited on bride 
 and guests. 
 
 If the married couple were City people, they were regaled 
 after the ceremony with the marrow-bones and cleavers — per- 
 haps the most delectable music ever invented. It was also 
 costly, because the musicians wanted drink, and plenty of it, as 
 well as money. 
 
 Nothing seems grander than to hear of a city illuminated 
 in honour of a victory or a peace, or the king's birthday. For 
 the most part, however, the grand illumination consisted of 
 nothing but a thin candle stuck in a lump of clay in the 
 window. 
 
 In the days before the policeman, there was a good deal of 
 rough-and-ready justice done in the streets — pickpockets were 
 held under the pump till they were half dead ; informers were 
 pelted through the streets, tarred, and feathered ; those worthy 
 citizens who beat their wives were serenaded with pots and pans, 
 and had to endure the cries of indignant matrons. The stocks 
 were always in view ; the pillory was constantly in use. Now 
 the pillory was essentially punishment by the people ; if they 
 sympathised with the culprit, he escaped even disgrace ; if they 
 condemned him, addled eggs, rotten potatoes, turnips, dead cats, 
 mud and filth, flying in his face, proclaimed aloud the opinion of 
 the people. 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 325 
 
 One thing more — the universal patten. When women went 
 abroad all wore pattens ; it was a sensible fashion in days of bad 
 pavements and muddy crossings, as Gay wrote kindly, yet with 
 doubtful philology : 
 
 The patten now supports each frugal dame, 
 Which from the blue-eyed Patty takes the name. 
 
 There was also great expense and ostentation observed at 
 funerals ; every little shopkeeper, it was observed, must have a 
 hearse and half a dozen mourning coaches to be carried a 
 hundred yards to the parish churchyard. They were often 
 conducted at night, in order to set off the ceremony by hired 
 mourners bearing flambeaux. 
 
 The amount of flogging in the army and navy is appalling 
 to think of That carried on ashore is a subject of some ob- 
 scurity. The punishment of whipping has never been taken out 
 of our laws. Garotters, and robbers who are violent, are still 
 flogged, and boys are birched. I know not when they ceased 
 to flog men through the streets at the cart-tail, nor when they 
 left ofl* flogging women. The practice certainly continued well 
 into the century. In the prisons it was a common thing to flog 
 the men. As for the severity of the laws protecting property, 
 one illustration will suffice. What can be thought of laws which 
 allowed the hanging of two children for stealing a purse with two 
 shillings and a brass counter in it ? Something, however, may 
 be said for Father Stick. He ordered everything, directed 
 everything, superintended everything. Without him nothing 
 was ever done ; nothing could be done. Men were flogged into 
 drill and discipline, they were flogged into courage, they were 
 flogged into obedience, boys were flogged into learning, 'prentices 
 were flogged into diligence, women were flogged into virtue. 
 Father Stick has still his disciples, but in the last century he 
 was king. 
 
 We have spoken of station and order. It must be re- 
 membered that there was then no pretence of a clerk, or anyone 
 of that kind, calling himself a gentleman. Steele, however, 
 notes the attempts made by small people to dub themselves 
 esquire, and says we shall soon be a nation of arniigeri. The 
 Georgian clerk was a servant^the servant of his master, and a 
 very faithful servant too, for the most part. His services were 
 
126 LONDON 
 
 rewarded at a rate of pay varying from twenty to a hundred 
 pounds a year. A clerk in a Government office seldom got 
 more than fifty pounds, but some of them had chances of a 
 kind which we now call dishonest. In other words, they took 
 perquisites, commissions, considerations, and bribes. 
 
 I have said, elsewhere, that the London craftsman sank about 
 this time to the lowest level he has ever reached. In the City 
 itself, as we have seen, he was carefully looked after. Each little 
 parish consisted of two or three streets, where every resident was 
 well known. But already the narrow bounds of the Freedom 
 had pushed out the people more and more. The masters — 
 the merchants and retailers — still remained ; those who were 
 pushed out were the craftsmen. When they left the City they 
 not only left the parish where all were friends — all, at least, belong- 
 ing to the same ship's crew ; where there was a kindly feeling to- 
 wards the poor ; where the boys and girls were taught the ways 
 of virtue and the Catechism— they left the Company, to which 
 they were no longer apprenticed, and which became nothing but 
 a rich company of masters or men unconnected with the trade ; 
 they left the church ; they left the school ; they left all the chari- 
 ties, helps, encouragements which had formerly belonged to 
 them. They went to Whitechapel, to St. Katherine's Precinct, 
 to Spital Fields, to Clerkenwell. They lived by themselves, 
 knowing no law except the law of necessity, and they drank^- 
 drank — drank. No energetic vicar, no active young curate, no 
 deaconess, no sister, no Bible-woman, ventured among them. 
 They went forth in the morning to their work, and in the even- 
 ing they returned home to their dens. We read about these 
 people in Fielding, Smollett, Colquhoun, Eden, and others : we 
 see what they were like in Hogarth. Their very brutality 
 rendered them harmless. Had they been a little less brutal, a 
 little more intelligent— had they been like the lower sort of 
 Parisian, there might have been a revolution in this country with 
 brutalities as bad as any that marked the first act in that great 
 drama played between 1792 and 181 5. 
 
 The seamy side of London in the last century has been laid 
 bare by one writer after another. Because it seems more 
 picturesque than the daily humdrum life of honest folk, it is 
 always chosen in preference to the latter. Gentlemen who live 
 by their wits are common in every age ; they adorn the Victorian 
 as much as the Elizabethan period. The rogue is always with 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 
 
 327 
 
 us. There are, however, as we have seen, vatieties belonging to 
 each period. Thus the kidnapper, who has now left these 
 islands, was formerly a very common variety of rogue. He was 
 sometimes called crimp, sometimes kidnapper, and his trade was 
 the procuring of recruits. In time of war he enlisted for the 
 army and the navy, and in time of peace for the merchant 
 service -and the East India Company's. He carried on his 
 business with all the tricks and dodges which suggested them- 
 selves to an ingenious !| •■ 
 mind, but his favourite : |„, , 
 way of working was 
 this. He prowled about 
 places where young 
 countrymen might be 
 found. One presently 
 appeared who had come 
 to town on business or 
 for amusement. He 
 lent a willing ear to the 
 courteous and friendly 
 stranger, who so kindly 
 advised him as to the 
 sights and the dangers 
 of the wicked town. He 
 readily followed when 
 the stranger proposed 
 a glass in an honest 
 tavern, which could be 
 highly recommended. 
 He sat dov.n without 
 suspicion in a parlour 
 where there were two 
 or three of the right sort, together with two gallant fellows in 
 uniforms, sergeants of the grenadiers, or bo's'ns in the E. I. C. 
 service. He listened while these heroes recounted their deeds of 
 valour ; he listened with open mouth ; and, alas ! he drank with 
 open mouth as well. Presently he became so inflamed with the 
 liquor that he acceded to the sergeant's invitation, and took the 
 bounty money then and there. If he did not, he drank on until 
 he was speechless. When he recovered next day, his friend — 
 the courteous stranger of the day before — was present to remind 
 
 SIR JOHN FIELDING'S COURT, BOW STREET 
 
328 LONDON 
 
 him that he had enlisted, that the bounty money was in his 
 pocket, and that the cockade was on his hat. If he resisted, he 
 was hauled before a magistrate, the sergeants being ready to 
 prove that he voluntarily enlisted. This done, he was conducted 
 to a crimp's house, of which there were many in different parts of 
 London, and there kept until he could be put on board or taken to 
 some military depot. In the house, which was barred and locked 
 like a prison, he was regaled with rum which kept him stupid 
 and senseless. Should he try to escape, he was charged with 
 robbery and hanged. 
 
 The continual succession of wars enriched London with that 
 delightful character, the man who had served in the army — 
 perhaps borne his Majesty's commission— and had returned to 
 live, not by his wits, because he had none, but by his strength of 
 arm, his skill of fence, and his powers of bluster. He became 
 the bully. As such he was either the Darby Captain, who was 
 paid to be the gaming-house bully, or the Cock and Bottle 
 Captain, who was the ale-house bully, and fought bailiffs for his 
 friends ; or the Tash Captain, who now has another name, and 
 may be found near Coventry Street. 
 
 The Setter played a game which brought in great gains, but 
 was extremely difficult and delicate. He was the agent for 
 ladies whose reputations were — let us say unjustly — cracked. 
 His object was to restore them to society by honourable 
 marriage, and not only to society but also to position, credit, and 
 luxury. A noble ambition ! He therefore frequented the 
 coffee-houses, the bagnios, and the gambling-places on the look- 
 out for heirs and eldest sons, or, if possible, young men of wealth 
 and position. Of course they must be without experience. He 
 would thus endeavour to obtain the confidence of his victim 
 until it became safe to introduce him to the beautiful young 
 widow of good family and so on ; the rest we may guess. Some- 
 times, of course, the young heir was a young fortune hunter, who 
 married the widow of large fortune only to find that she was a 
 penniless adventuress with nothing but debts, which he thus 
 took upon himself and paid by a life-long imprisonment in the 
 Fleet. 
 
 The travelling quack we have considered. There was 
 another kind who was stationary and had a good house in the 
 City. This kind cured by sympathy, by traction, by earth- 
 bathing, by sea-bathing, by the quintessence of Bohea tea and 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 329 
 
 cocoanuts distilled together, by drugs and by potions. He 
 advertised freely ; he drove about ostentatiously in a glass 
 coach ; he had all kinds of tricks to arrest attention — for 
 instance, the Goddess of Hygeia was to be seen by all callers 
 daily, at the house of the great Dr. Graham. The cruel persecu- 
 tion of the College of Physicians has extinguished the quack, 
 who, if he now exists, must have first passed the examinations 
 required by the regular practitioner. 
 
 The bogus auction has always been a favourite method of 
 getting quick returns and a rapid turnover. It is not now so 
 common as formerly, but it still exists. 
 
 The intelligence office, where you paid a shilling and were 
 promised a place of great profit, and were called upon for 
 another shilling and still another, and then got nothing, is now 
 called an agency, and is said to flourish very well indeed. 
 
 The pretended old friend, who was a common character in 
 1760, has, I am told, crossed the ocean and changed his name. 
 He is now a naturalised citizen of the United States, and his 
 name is Bunco Steerer. 
 
 Let me add to this account — too scanty and meagre — of 
 London in the last century a brief narrative — borrowed, not 
 invented — of a Sunday holiday. It has been seen that the City 
 was careful about the churchgoing of the citizens. But laws 
 were forgotten, manners relaxed ; outside the City no such 
 discipline was possible, nor was any attempted. And to the 
 people within the walls, as well as to those without, Sunday 
 gradually became a day of holiday and pleasure. You shall see 
 what a day was made of a certain Sunday in the summer of 
 17 — by a pair of citizens whose names have perished. 
 
 The holiday makers slept at the Marlborough Head, in 
 Bishopsgate Street, whence they sallied forth at four in the 
 morning. Early as it was, the gates of the inn-yards were 
 thronged with young people gaily dressed, waiting for the 
 horses, chaises, and carriages which were to carry them to 
 Windsor, Hampton Court, Richmond, etc., for the day. They 
 were mostly journeymen or apprentices, and the ladies with 
 them were young milliners and mantua-makers. They first 
 walked westward, making for the Foundling Hospital, on their 
 way passing a rabble rout drinking saloop and fighting- 
 Arrived at the fields lying south of that institution, they met 
 with a company of servants, men and girls, who had stolen some 
 
330 
 
 LONDON 
 
 of their masters' wine, and were out in the fields to drink it. 
 They shared in the drink, but deplored the crime. It will be 
 observed, as we go along, that a very creditable amount of 
 drink accompanied this holiday. Then they continued walking 
 across the fields till they came to Tottenham Court Road, 
 where the Wesleyans, in their tabernacle, were holding an early 
 service. Outside the chapel a prize fight was going on, with a 
 crowd of ruffians and betting men. It was, however, fought on 
 the cross. 
 
 They next retraced their steps across the fields and arrived 
 at Bagnigge Wells, which lay at the east of the Gray's Inn 
 
 Road, nearly opposite what is 
 now Mecklenburgh Square, and 
 north-east of the St. Andrew's 
 Burying Ground. Early as it was, 
 the place already contained several 
 hundreds of people. The Wells 
 included a great room for concerts 
 and entertainments, a garden 
 planted with trees, shrubs and 
 flowers, and provided with walks, 
 a fish pond, fountain, rustic bridge, 
 rural cottages and seats. The ad- 
 mission was threepence. They 
 had appointed to breakfast at the 
 Bank Coffee-house, therefore they 
 could not wait longer here. On 
 the way to the City they stopped at the Thatched House and 
 took a gill of red port. 
 
 The Bank Coffee-house was filled with people taking break- 
 fast and discussing politics or trade. It is not stated what they 
 had for breakfast, but as one of the company is spoken of as 
 finishing his dish of chocolate, it may be imagined that this was 
 the usual drink. A lovely barmaid smiled farewell when they 
 left the place. From this coffee-house they went to church 
 at St. Mary-le-Strand, where a bishop preached a charity 
 sermon. At the close of the sermon the charity children were 
 placed at the doors loudly imploring the benefactions of the 
 people. After church they naturally wanted a little refresh- 
 ment ; they therefore went to a house near St. Paul's, where the 
 landlord provided them a cold collation with a pint of Lisbon. 
 
 CONCERT TICKET 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 331 
 
 The day being fine, they agreed to walk to Highgate and to 
 dine at the ordinary there. On the way they were beset by 
 beggars in immense numbers. They arrived at Highgate just 
 in time for the dinner — probably at two o'clock. The company 
 consisted principally of reputable tradesmen and their families. 
 There were also an Italian musician, a gallery reporter — that is, 
 a man who attended the House and wrote down the debates 
 from memory — and a lawyer's clerk. The ordinary consisted of 
 two or three dishes and cost a shilling each. They had a bottle 
 of wine and sat till three o'clock, when they left the tavern and 
 walked to Primrose Hill. Here they met an acquaintance in the 
 shape of an Eastcheap cheesemonger, who was dragging his 
 children in a four-wheeled chaise up the hill, while his wife 
 carried the good man's wig and hat on the point of his walking- 
 stick. The hill was crowded with people of all kinds. 
 
 When they had seen enough they came away and walked to 
 the top of Hampstead Hill. Here, at the famous Spaniards, 
 they rested and took a bottle of port. 
 
 It was five o'clock in the afternoon when they left Hampstead 
 and made for Islington, intending to see the White Conduit 
 House on their way to the Surrey side. 
 
 All these gardens — to leave these travellers for a moment — 
 Ranelagh, Vauxhall, Bagnigge Wells, and the rest, were alike. 
 They contained a concert and a promenade room, a garden laid 
 out in pleasing walks, a fish pond with arbours, and rooms for 
 suppers, a fountain, a band of music, and a dancing floor. The 
 amusements of Ranelagh are thus described by a visitor who 
 dropped into verse : 
 
 To Ranelagh, once in my life, 
 
 By good-natured force I was driven ; 
 
 The nations had ceased from their strife, 
 
 And Peace beamed her radiance from heaven. 
 
 (I stop to apologise for these two lines ; but everybody knovys 
 that strife and heaven are very neat rhymes to life and driven. 
 Otherwise L admit that they have nothing to do with Ranelagh.) 
 
 What wonders were there to be found 
 That a clown might enjoy or disdain ? 
 
 First we traced the gay circle around, 
 And then we went round it again. 
 
12>^ LONDON 
 
 A thousand feet rustled on mats — 
 
 A carpet that once had been green ;. 
 Men bowed with their outlandish hats, 
 
 With women so fearfully keen. 
 Fair maids, who, at home in their haste, 
 
 Had left all their clothes but a train. 
 Swept the floor clean as they passed, 
 
 Then walked round and swept it again. 
 
 At these gardens this Sunday afternoon there were several 
 hundreds of people, not of the more distinguished kind. They 
 found a very pretty girl here who was so condescending as to 
 take tea with them. 
 
 Leaving the Conduit House, they paid another visit to Bag- 
 nigge Wells in order to drink a bowl of negus. By this time 
 the place was a scene of open profligacy. They next called a 
 coach, and drove to Kensington Gardens, where they walked 
 about for an hour seeing the great people. Among others they 
 had the happiness of beholding the D — of Gr-ft-n, accompanied 
 by Miss P — , and L — d H — y with the famous Mrs. W — . 
 Feeling the want of a little refreshment, they sought a tea-garden 
 in Brompton known as Cromwell's Gardens or Florida Gardens, 
 where they drank coffee, and contemplated the beauty of many 
 lovely creatures. 
 
 It was now nine o'clock in the evening. In the neighbour- 
 hood of the Mall they saw a great block of carriages on their 
 way to Lady H — 's Sunday routs. The explorers then visited 
 certain houses frequented by the baser sort, and were rewarded 
 in the manner that might have been expected, namely, with 
 ribaldry and blasphemy. As the clock struck ten they 
 arrived at the * Dog and Duck,' St. George's Fields. From the 
 * Dog and Duck ' they repaired to ' The Temple of Flora,' a place 
 of the same description as Bagnigge Wells. Here, as the magis- 
 trates had refused a wine licence, they kept a citizen and vintner 
 on the premises. He, by virtue of his livery, had the right to 
 sell wine without a licence. Our friends took a bottle here. The 
 Apollo Gardens, the Thatched House, the Flora Tea Garden, 
 were also places of resort of the same kind, all with a garden, 
 tea and music rooms, and a company of doubtful morals. They 
 drove next to the Bermondsey Spa Gardens, described as an 
 elegant place of entertainment, two miles from London Bridge, 
 with a walk hung with coloured lamps not inferior to that 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 333 
 
 of Vauxhall. There were also a lovely pasteboard castle and 
 a museum of curiosities. They had another bottle here, and 
 a comfortable glass of cherry brandy before getting into the 
 carriage. Finally they reached the place whence they started 
 at midnight, and after a final bumper of red port retired to rest. 
 A noble Sunday, lasting from four o'clock in the morning till 
 midnight. They walked twenty miles at least ; they drank all 
 day long — port, Lisbon, chocolate, negus, tea, coffee, and cherry 
 brandy, besides their beer at dinner. On nine different occasions 
 they called for a pint or a bottle. A truly wonderful and 
 improving Sunday ! 
 
 A chapter on Georgian London would be incomplete indeed, 
 which failed to notice the institution which plays so large a part 
 in the literature of the period — the debtors' prison. Strange it 
 seems to us who have only recently reformed in this matter, that 
 a m^an should be locked up for life because he was unable to pay 
 a trifling debt, or even a heavy debt. Everybody knows the 
 Fleet, with its racquet courts, and its prisoners ; everybody knows 
 the King's Bench, and the Marshalsea also is familiar to us. 
 Here, however, is a picture of Wood Street Compter, which is 
 not so well known. In this place, one of the two City Compters 
 under the sheriffs, were confined not only debtors, but also 
 persons charged with night assaults — men or women — and felons 
 and common thieves, the latter perhaps when Newgate was full. 
 For these there was the strong room, in which men and women 
 were locked up together, unless they could afford a separate 
 room, for which they paid two shillings a night before commit- 
 ment, and one shilling a night after. On the master's side, those 
 of the debtors who could afford to pay for them had separate 
 rooms, but miserably furnished ; on the common side there were 
 two wards. In one of these, which was nearly dark and called 
 the Hole, shelves were arranged along the wall like the bunks in 
 a cabin ; here those who had any beds laid them ; those who 
 had none slept on the bare shelf This was the living room and 
 the cooking room, as well as the sleeping room. The smell of 
 the place, the narrator says, was intolerable. In the second ward 
 of the common side lived those a little removed from destitution, 
 who could pay fifteen pence a week for the accommodation of a 
 bed. Otherwise it was the same as the first ward. The women 
 had a separate ward. There was a drinking-bar here in a kind 
 of cellar — * the place full of ill smells and every inconvenience 
 
334 LONDON 
 
 that man could conceive.' Quarrels, fightings, and brawls were 
 punished by black hole. Men in prison on charge of night 
 assaults were called rats ; women under similar charges were 
 called mice. 
 
 It seems as if life under such conditions must have been in- 
 tolerable. Never to be alone, never to be clean, never to be 
 quiet, never to be free from the smell of bad cooking, confined 
 rooms, stale tobacco, vile spirits, never to be free from the society 
 of vile men ; this was the punishment for those who could not 
 pay their debts. Wood Street Compter was removed to Giltspur 
 Street in 1791. 
 
 The subject of Fleet weddings has been treated at length in 
 a certain novel founded on one of them. They did not alto- 
 gether belong to the baser sort, or to the more profligate sort. 
 Many a young citizen arranged with his mistress to take her 
 secretly to the Fleet, there to marry her, then back again and 
 on their knees to the parents.. This saved the expense of the 
 wedding feast, which was almost as great as that of the funeral 
 feast. 
 
 As to trade, it was marching in giant strides, such as even 
 good old Sir Thomas Gresham had not considered possible. 
 The increase of trade belongs to the historian ; we have only to 
 notice the great warehouses along Thames Street, the quays and 
 wharves, the barges and lighters, the ships lying two miles in 
 length in two long lines below bridge, the crowd of stevedores, 
 watermen, lightermen, the never ending turmoil of those who 
 loaded and unloaded the ships, the solid, sober merchants dressed 
 in brown cloth with white silk stockings and white lace ruffles 
 and neckerchiefs. They are growing rich : they are growing 
 very rich. London has long been the richest city in the world. 
 
 These notes are wholly insufficient to show the London of 
 George the Second. They illustrate the daily life of the citizens ; 
 they also show something of the brutality, the drunkenness, and 
 the rough side of the lower levels. The better side of London, 
 that of the scholars, divines, writers, and professional men, comes 
 out fully in the memoirs and letters of the period, which are 
 fortunately abundant. There we can find the stately courtesy 
 of the better sort, the dignity, the respect to rank, the exaction 
 of respect, the social gradations which were recognised by those 
 above as well as those below, the religion which was partly 
 formal and partly touched with the old Puritanic spirit, the , 
 
GEORGE THE SECOND 335 
 
 benevolence and the charity of the upper class, coupled with 
 their determination that those below shall never be allowed to 
 combine, the survival of old traditions and all the other points 
 which make us love this century so much. If any notes on 
 London of this period omitted mention of these points, they 
 would be inadequate indeed. 
 
 These notes — these chapters — to conclude, make no pretence 
 to show more than the City life ; which was decorous at all times, 
 and especially during the last century. Of the wickedness, 
 goodness, vice and virtue that went on at the Court, and among 
 the aristocracy from age to age, nothing has been said. The 
 moralist has plenty to say on this subject. Unfortunately, the 
 moralist always picks out the worst cases, and wants us to 
 believe that they are average specimens. A good deal might 
 be said, I am of opinion, on the other side, in considering the 
 many virtues ; the courage, loyalty, moderation, and the sense 
 of honour ; which have always distinguished the better sort 
 among the nobility. 
 
 We have seen London from age to age. It has changed 
 indeed. Yet in one thing it has shown no change. London 
 has always been a city looking forwards, pressing forwards, 
 fighting for the future, using up the present ruthlessly for the 
 sake of the future, trampling on the past. As it has been, so it 
 is. The City may have reached its highest point ; it may be 
 about to decline ; but as yet it shows no sign, it has sounded 
 no note of decay, or of decline, or of growing age. The City, 
 which began with the East Saxon settlement among the forsaken 
 streets thirteen hundred years ago, is still in the full strength 
 and lustihood of manhood — perhaps as yet it is only early man- 
 hood. For which, as in private duty bound, let us laud, praise, 
 and magnify the Providence which has so guided the steps of 
 the citizens, and so filled their hearts, from generation to genera- 
 tion, with the spirit of self-reliance, hope, and courage. 
 
INDEX 
 
 ABE 
 
 Abergavenny House, 122 
 
 * Abrani Man,' the, 277 
 
 Agas, Ralph, his map of Londofi, 182 
 Agelnoth, 60 
 
 Alehouses, number of, in 1736, 319 
 Alfune, founder of Church of St. Giles, 
 
 Cripplegate, 43 
 Alleyn, 242 
 All Hallows the Clreat, Church of, 
 
 Thames St. , 294 
 Almshouses, City and other, 160, 191 
 Alphege, Archbishop of Canterbury, 
 
 60 
 Alsatia, 84 
 Amusements in Saxon and Norman 
 
 times, 63, 64 
 Anderida destroyed, 21 
 'Angler,' the, 276 
 
 * Angli(t Metropolis, or the Present 
 
 State of London,' 1690, quoted, 268 
 Anglo-Saxon 'Chronicle,' i, 6-8 
 
 London not mentioned in, 9 
 
 Antwerp at commencement of Eliza- 
 beth's reign, 194 
 Apothecaries, 318 
 Apprentices, London, 223 
 Assessment of London in 1397, J 26 
 Augusta, fate of, after the Romans left, 
 
 6, 21 
 Aulaf, 60 
 Austin Friars Monastery, 78, 176 
 
 distinguished persons buried there, 
 
 176 
 
 Bacon on Architecture, 190 
 
 Bagnigge Wells, 330, 331 
 
 Ball, John, destruction of buildings by, 
 
 91 
 
 Baltic Coffee-house, 320 
 Bank Side, 2^6 
 Barber surgeons, 318 
 Barnard's Castle, 193 
 Barnes, John, 132 
 Bartholomew's Fair, 306 
 Bassing Hall, 58 
 
 CAR 
 
 Bath, ruins of Roman temples at, 4 
 Baynard's Castle, history of, 113 
 Bean tansy, 319 
 Bear baiting, 240, 271, 306 
 Bede's Ecclesiastical History, 2 
 Beer-drinking, 279 
 
 — the national drink, 59, 323 
 Bermondsey, Abbey of, 94, 162, 179 
 
 — Spa Gardens, 332 
 Bethlehem Hospital, 91 
 
 Black Friars Church destroyed, 178 
 
 Blackfriars Theatre, 203 
 
 Blackwell Hall, 58 
 
 Blakeney, William, story of, 169 
 
 Blue-Coat School, 82, 200 
 
 Bone-setters, 318 
 
 Bonvici, Antonio, 119 
 
 Bow Church, Mile End Road, 94 
 
 Bowes, Sir Martin, 179 
 
 Bowyers' Company, 303 
 
 Brad ford- on-A von, description of 
 
 Church of St. Laurence at, 51, 53 
 Bread a luxury in time of Charles H. , 
 
 280 ; and George IL , 324 
 Brewer, Dr., and his estimate of 
 
 mediaeval London, 108 
 Breweries along the river, 36 
 Bridewell Palace, 58 
 Briset, Jordan, and Muriel his wife, 45, 
 
 90,91 
 Buildings small and mean until long 
 
 after the Norman Conquest, 34 
 Bull-baiting, 236, 240, 271, 306 
 * Bully,' the, in the Georgian period, 
 
 Burghley House, 189 
 Butcher Row, 297 
 
 Calleva Atrebatum destroyed, 21 
 Canterbury, St. Martin's Church at, 53 
 Card Makers' Company, 303 
 Card-playing temp. Elizabeth, 205 
 Carmelites, the, 84 
 
 Carpenter, John, founder of the City 0/ 
 London School, 131 
 
338 
 
 LONDON 
 
 CAR 
 
 Carthusians, House of the, 84 
 Castellan and Standard-bearer to the 
 
 City of London, 1 14 
 Cedd, Bishop, 37 
 Champneys, Sir John, 205 
 Chapter Coffee-house, 320 
 Charing Cross, 99 
 Charter House, 90, 178 
 
 School, 200 
 
 Chaucer, 105 
 Chepe, 222, 223 
 
 — East, butchers in, 145 
 
 — of medioeval London, 127 
 
 — the chief market of the City, 36 
 
 — West, mercers and haberdashers in, 
 
 145 
 
 Chester, batte of, in 607, 8 
 
 Chichele, Sir Robert, 132 
 
 Christ Church, built by Wren, 82 
 
 Christian symbols and emblems found 
 on site of Roman towns, 4 
 
 Christ's Hospital, 82 
 
 Churches, the thirteen large conven- 
 tual, 38 
 
 Church of England in time of George H. , 
 291 
 
 — penalties for absence from, 295 
 Cistercian Order, 2)^ 
 
 City companies, formation of, 139 
 
 — foreign trade of, 129 
 
 — holidays, 158 
 
 — of London School founded by John 
 Carpenter, 131 
 
 — residences of the nobility, 121, 122 
 
 — wall, 57, 76 
 
 — water supply of, 58 
 — wealth of, 126 
 
 — worthies, 132 
 *Clapperdozen,' the, 277 
 Cloth Fair, 45 
 
 Clubs, 320 
 
 Cnut, King, 60 
 
 Coals, duty on, to rebuild public build- 
 ings after the Great Fire, 266 
 
 Cock-fighting on Shrove Tuesdays 150 ; 
 at London fairs, 306 
 
 Cockpit Theatre, 203 
 
 Coffee-houses, business carried on at, 
 320 
 
 — first started temp. Charles IL, 273 
 Cold Harborough, house built by Sir 
 
 John Poultney, US, 193 
 Companies, City, formation of, 138 ; in 
 
 reign of George IL, 303 
 Congreve's ' Way of the World,' 272 
 Cordwainer Street, shoemakers in, 145 
 Cornhill, drapers in, 145 
 Court of Judicature created after the 
 
 Great Fire, 266, 267 
 Craftsmen of London, 144 
 
 EPP 
 
 Cranmer and Waltham Abbey, 98 
 Cromwell House, 177 
 
 — Lord, 215 
 Crosby Hall, 116, 193 
 
 — Sir John, 117 
 
 Crutched Friars' Church turned into a 
 carpenter's shop and tennis court, 
 177 
 
 Priory of, ^6 
 
 Cuneglass, King, 2, 3, 4 
 
 Curfew bell, the, 163 
 
 Curtain Theatre, Shoreditch, 203 
 
 Daily Life, Ehzabethan, 200 
 
 Dances in time of Elizabeth, 205 
 
 Danes, the, 34 
 
 Darcie, Sir Arthur, 176 
 
 Debtors' prison in the Georgian era, 333 
 
 Debts, like property, destroyed by the 
 
 Great Fire, 268, 269 
 Defoe, Daniel, and his account of the 
 
 Plague, 250 
 
 — trades enumerated by, 252 
 Derby House, 112, 193 
 Dick's Coffeehouse, 273 
 Dominicans, first settlement of, in Chan- 
 cery Lane, 2>t, 
 
 ' Dommerer,' the, 277 
 Dover, St. Mary's Church at, 53 
 Dress of the time of George H., 306 
 Drinking and fires the pests of London, 
 
 37 . . 
 
 — habits in the time of Charles H., 270 ; 
 in the time of George H., 319 
 
 Dryden, John, on the Great Fire, 269 
 D'Urfey, Tom, songs of, 273 
 Durovernum destroyed, 21 
 
 East India Company, the, 197 
 Eastland Company, the, 197 
 Eastminster, 93 
 
 — pulled down, 176 
 
 Edmund, Earl of Lancaster, founds 
 
 Holywell Nunnery, 92 
 Education of girls, thorough, fenip. 
 
 Elizabeth, 207 
 Edward II. and the City, 137 
 Edward IV. and Baynard's Castle, 114 
 Elbing, merchants of, 197 
 Eleanor, Queen, a benefactor of St, 
 
 Katherine's by the Tower, 45 
 Elizabethan daily life, 200 
 
 — house, the, 189 
 -- pageants, 201 
 
 Elsing Spital, founded in 1529, 102 
 Elsing, William, 132, 160 
 England, conquest of, completed, 8 
 Epping Forest, 156 
 
INDEX 
 
 339 
 
 ERB 
 
 Erber House, history of, 115, 116 
 
 Ermyn Street, 16, 17 
 
 Estfield, Sir William, 132 
 
 Ethelbald, King, grant of, to Bishop of 
 
 Rochester, 34 
 Etheling, Edmund, 60 
 Ethelwerd, i 
 
 Fairs, London, 306 
 Falcon Tavern, Bank Side, 240 
 Famines in London, 161 
 Feasts of Misrule, 204 
 Fire, Great, of London, 262 
 
 destruction caused by, 264 
 
 John I )ry(len on, 269 
 
 P'ires, great, of London, 262 
 
 Fitz-Mary, Simon, 91 
 
 P'itz-Stephen, William, 35, 36 
 
 Fleet weddings, 324, 334 
 
 Flemings, the, 32 
 
 Fletchers' Company, 303 
 
 Flogging in the army and navy, 325 
 
 Food in the time of George II., 319 
 
 — of the citizens, 159 
 
 Forgery, punishment for, 211 
 
 Fortune Theatre, Whitecross Street, 203 
 
 Foxe's * Book of Martyrs,' written at 
 
 Waltham Abbey, 98 
 Franciscans, the, 80, 159 
 Franklin, Benjamin, on beer-drinking in 
 
 a London printing-house, 279 
 Fraternities, the, 104 
 Fratres de Saccd, 99 
 Froissart on the Londoners, 137 
 Fuller, Thomas, wrote his Church History 
 
 at Waltham Abbey, 98 
 Funerals, 325 
 
 F'urniture in mediaeval times, 125 
 Fustarers' Company, 303 
 
 Gambling in the time of Charles H., 
 
 276 
 Gaming temp. Elizabeth, 205 
 Gardens in Saxon and Norman times, 63 
 Garraway's Coffee-house, 320 
 Gascony wine, ingredients of, 317 
 Gates of the City closed at sunset until 
 
 1760, 289 
 Gay's ' Trivia,' description of London in, 
 
 290 
 Geoffrey of Monmouth, I 
 Gerrard's Hall in Basing Lane, 123 
 Gildas, I, 2, 18, 31 
 Gin-shops, number of, in 1736, 319 
 Girls, education of, thorough, in time of 
 
 Elizabeth, 207 
 Gisors, John, 123 
 Glasse, Mrs., and her book on cookery, 
 
 319 
 
 JES 
 
 Globe Theatre, Bank Side, 203, 236 
 Glovers' Company, laws and regulations 
 
 of, 140 
 Government situations bought in time of 
 
 George H., 324 
 Greenstead Church, Essex, 51 
 Greenwich Fair, 306 
 Gresham College, 198, 199 
 
 — House, 191, 199 
 
 — Sir Thomas, account of, 193, 198 
 
 builds the Royal Exchange, 194 
 
 crest of, 195 
 
 Grey Friars, foundation of, 80 
 
 Church, celebrated persons buried 
 
 here, 179 
 library, founded by Whitlingfon, 
 
 131 
 
 Guildhall, remains of Roman London in, 
 
 34 
 Guilds, 36, 139 
 Guthrun's Lane, goldsmiths in, 145 
 
 Haberdashers' Company, 302 
 
 Hainault Forest, 157 
 
 Hampton Court, 191 
 
 Hanseatic League, 125 
 
 Harding, Stephen, founder of the Cister- 
 cian Order, 87 
 
 Harold at Waltham Abbey, 98 
 
 Ilengist, 6 
 
 Henry VL erects new grammar schools, 
 162, 200 
 
 Heraclius, Patriarch of Jerusalem, 90 
 
 Heralds' College, 1 12, 121 
 
 Herbalists, 317, 318 
 
 Heretics, punishment of, 21 1 
 
 Holy Trinity, Aldgate, founded by Queen 
 Matilda, 45, 77 ; destroyed, 177 
 
 Church, Minories, 92, 176 
 
 Holywell Nunnery, 92 
 
 Horsa, 6 
 
 Hosiers' Lane, 145 
 
 Household accounts of a family, 1677-9, 
 277 
 
 — — in time of George H., 312 
 
 — furniture, inventory of, of newly- 
 married pair, temp. 14th century, 170 
 
 Hudson's Bay Company, 197, 249 
 ' Huffs,' 276 
 Hutchinson, Lucy, 207 
 
 Ironmongers' Lane, ironmongers in, 
 145 
 
 Jamaica Coffee-house, 320 
 Jerusalem Coffee-house, 320 
 jesus Commons, foundation of, 102 
 
340 
 
 LONDON 
 
 JON 
 
 Jonathan's Coffee-house, 320 
 Jonson, Ben, 241, 242 
 Justice under the Plantagenets, 165 
 Jutes, the, 7, 20 
 
 Kidnappers of the Georgian era, 327 
 Kingston-on-HulI, Trinity House at, 61 
 Knights Hospitallers, Church of, blown 
 up with gunpowder, 178 
 
 Ladies' Bower, the, 62 
 
 — occupation of, in time of George H., 
 320, 321 
 
 ' Latroon, Meriton, Life of,' 275 
 Lepers, lazar-house established in St. 
 
 Giles in the Plclds for, 99 
 Life in the time of George H., 309, 310 
 ' Liniitour,' the, in Chaucer, 105 
 Lloyd's Coffee-house, 320 
 Loftie's Works on London, 10, 16, 139 
 Lombard Street, drapers in, 145 
 
 . Gresham's shop in, 199 
 
 London a city of ruins, temp. Elizabeth, 
 
 176 
 
 — commercial centre of the world, temp. 
 Elizabeth, 194 
 
 — conquest of, by the men of Essex, 
 compared with that of Jerusalem by 
 Titus, 29 
 
 — conversion of (a.d. 604), 32 
 
 — craftsmen of, 144 
 
 — described by William Fitz-Stephen, 
 
 35 
 
 — desolate state of, after the Roman 
 period, 24 
 
 — drinking and fires the pests of, 37 
 
 — found deserted by the East Saxons, 
 
 24 
 
 — mediaeval, description of, 108, 109, 
 126 
 
 — merchant generally a gentleman, 135 
 
 — municipal history of, 64 
 
 — not mentioned in Anglo-Saxon ' Chro- 
 nicle,' 9 
 
 — population of, temp. Richard II., 35 
 
 — rebuilding of, after Great Fire, 264 
 
 — Saxon and Norman described, 65 
 
 — veritable mother of saints, 32 
 London Bridge, chapel on, 56 
 first stone, 54, 55 
 
 .songs on, 57 
 
 Londoners in the time of Elizabeth, 185 
 Long Bowstring Makers' Company, 303 
 Loriners' Company, 303 
 
 Mail-coaches, 311 
 ^Talpas, Philip, 160 
 
 OXF 
 
 Manners, City, in the time of Charles II., 
 270 
 
 Manny, Sir Walter, 85, 86 
 Matilda (Maud), Queen of Henry I., 45, 
 71,99 
 
 — wife of King Stephen, founds St. 
 Katherine's by the Tower, 45 
 
 Maurice, Bishop, 38 
 May-day in the City, 155 
 May Fair, 306 
 May-pole, the, 220 
 Mediaeval furniture, 125 
 
 — London, description of, 108, 109, 126 
 ■ — names, survival of, 14 
 
 Medicines and physick, 317, 318 
 Megusers' Company, 303 
 Mellitus, first Bishop of London, 28, 37 
 Mercers' Chapel, loi 
 
 — Company, 131, 200 
 Merchant adventurers, the, 196, 197 
 
 — London, generally a gentleman, 135 
 
 — Taylors' School, 200 
 Minnries (Abbey of St. Clare), 92 
 Misrule, feast of, 204 
 
 ' Mithridate ' water, 317 
 
 Mitre Tavern, 233 
 
 Monastery-towns grow rapidly and 
 
 prosper, 33 
 Monk, the, in Chaucer, 106 
 Montfichet tower, 58 
 Moorficlds, people camped in, after the 
 
 Great Fire, 265 
 More, Sir Thomas, and Crosby Hall, 1 19 
 ' Morning Post,' 311 
 Morris-dancing, 156 
 Mughouse a kind of music-hall, 322 
 ' Mumpus,' the, 277 
 Municipal London, history of, 64 
 Mystery plays, 66 
 
 Navy Office, the old, 191 
 Nennius, i 
 New Abbey, 93 
 
 pulled down, 176 
 
 Newspapers about 1750, 311 
 
 Nicol, Sir John, 131 
 
 Nobility, residences of, in City, 121, 122 
 
 Norman house, description of, 60 
 
 — London, monuments of, 37 
 
 Northumberland House, 191 
 
 site originally of Hospital of St 
 
 Mary Rounceval, 100, loi 
 Nunneries in Saxon times, 65 
 
 Old Change, goldsmiths in, 145 
 
 Old Jewry, branch of the Fratres de 
 
 Saccd established in, 99 
 'Oxford Clerk,' the, in Chaucer, 106 
 
INDEX 
 
 341 
 
 PAD 
 
 Pads, 276 
 Pageants, City, 150 
 
 — Elizabethan, 201 
 
 Palaces of the nobility in the City, 1 22 
 Papey College, 102 
 Pardon Churchyard, 86 
 
 * Pardoner,' the, in Chaucer, 106 
 Parish organisation in time of George II., 
 
 293 
 Paternoster Row, 145 
 Patten Makers' Company, 303 
 Pattens, 325 
 Pecock, Reginald, Bishop of Chichester, 
 
 132 
 Pembroke, Earl, and Baynard's Castle, 
 
 114 
 Pepys' Diary, 277 
 Pepys on the Great Fire of London, 202 
 
 — on the Plague, 250 
 Perranazabuloe Church, 53 
 Pewterers' Company, 303 
 
 Philippa, Queen, a benefactor of St. 
 Katherine's by the Tower, 45 
 
 * Philo Puttonists,' 276 
 Philpot, Sir John, 129 
 Picard, Sir Plenry, 123 
 Pilgrims, 40 
 
 — consecration of, 43 
 
 — office of, 42 
 Pillory, the, 165, 21 1 
 ' Pimpinios,' 276 
 Pinder, Sir Paul, 180 
 Plague, the, 249 
 
 — at Astrakhan in 1879, 258 
 
 — at Marseilles in 1720, 258 
 
 — Daniel Defoe on, 250 
 
 — loss caused to trade by, 256 
 
 — Pepys on, 250 
 
 — remedies for, advertised, 271 
 
 — water, 317 
 Plagues, 249 
 
 — of London, 85 
 
 — of 1603 and 1625, 258 
 Plantagenet London, religious houses 
 
 the most conspicuous feature of, 75 
 Poisoning, men boiled and women burnt 
 
 for, 21 c 
 Population of London according to Fitz- 
 
 Stephen, 59 
 Post-office rates about 1750, 311 
 Pouliney, Sir John, 115 
 Prentice, London, temp. Charles II., 
 
 275 
 Prices of food and other articles in time 
 of Charles II., 280, 281 ; in time of 
 George II., 310 
 
 * Prioress,' the, in Chaucer, 105 
 Priories, alien, suppressed, 162 
 Punishm.ents under the Plantagenets, 
 
 168 ; under the Tudors, 21 1 
 
 SAl 
 
 Quacks, 318 
 Queen's wardrobe, 12 1 
 Quintain, the, 201 
 
 Raiiere, 39, 43 
 
 Rainbow Coffee-house, 273 
 
 Rainwell, Sir John, 132 
 
 Ranelagh Gardens described, 331 
 
 Red Bull Theatre, St. John Street, 203 
 
 Red Cross, Order of, ^'j 
 
 Reeds, floors covered with, 61 
 
 Reformation, the, and destruction of ec- 
 clesiastical buildings, 181 
 
 Religious houses the most conspicuous 
 feature of Plantagc-net London, 75 
 
 Rents about 1750, 309, 310 
 
 Richard of Cirencester, i 
 
 Richard 11. and the City, 137 
 
 Riley's ' Memorials of London,' 15 
 
 Robins's Coffee-house, 320 
 
 Rogues, temp. Elizabeth, 208 
 
 Roman customs, no trace of in London, 
 
 15 
 
 — remains, 29 
 
 — London, City wall about three miles 
 long, 12 
 
 — — dependent on supplies from with- 
 out, 17 
 
 description of, 9- 13 
 
 probable population of, 12, 13 
 
 remains of at Guildhall, 34 
 
 the only port in the kingdom, 13 
 
 Roman street, no trace of in London, 15 
 
 — town, construction of, 15 
 Rooks, 276 
 
 Royal African Company, the, 197 
 
 — Exchange, 194, 222 
 iemp. Charles IL , 272 
 
 — Society, Institution of, 249 
 'Ruffins,'276 
 
 ' Ruffltrs,' 276 
 
 Russian Company, the, 197 
 
 Rutupix destroyed, 21 
 
 St. Alphege Church, 53, 103 
 
 St. Anthony, patron saint of the grocers, 
 
 139 
 St. Augustine, Order of, 78 
 St. Bartholomew the Great, built by 
 
 Rahere, 39, 43 
 St. Bartholomew's Hospital, founded by 
 
 Rahere, 43, 102 
 
 — Priory, 43, 84, 179 
 
 St. Botolph, church dedicated to, 33 
 St. Clare, abbey of, called the Minories, 
 
 92, 176 
 St. Dunstan, church dedicated to, 33, 53 
 St. Dunstan's in the East, church of, 
 
 built after the Great Fire, 266 
 
342 
 
 LONDON 
 
 SAI 
 
 St. Edmund the Martyr, church dedi- 
 cated to, 33 
 St. Erkenwald builds Bishopsgate, 32 
 St. Ethelburga, 32 
 St. Giles, Cripplegate, founded by Alfune, 
 
 43 
 
 in the Fields, church of, 99 
 
 St. Giles' Hospital, founded by Queen 
 Matilda, 45 
 
 St. Helen, church of, 78 
 
 St. Helen's Nunnery becomes the pro- 
 perty of the Leathersellers' Company, 
 
 178 
 St. James, Clerkenwell, parish church of, 
 
 91 
 
 St. John of Jerusalem, priory of, 45, 90; 
 
 destroyed by rebels under Wat Tyler, 
 
 91 
 St. John's Gate, Clerkenwell, 105 
 
 — Priory, 84 
 
 St. Katherine's by the Tower, 45 
 St. Magnus, church dedicated to, 33 
 St. Margaret Pattens, patten sellers in, 
 
 145 
 St. Martin, the patron saint of saddlers, 
 
 139 
 
 — — Outwich, church of, 197 
 
 St. Martin's le Grand, a house of 
 
 Augustine Canons, 80 
 church of, tavern built on site 
 
 of, 179 
 
 — — sanctuary and collegiate church of, 
 
 39 
 
 school, 200 
 
 St. Mary Axe Street, 219 
 
 skinners in, 145 
 
 of Bethlehem, hospital of, 91 
 
 Overies, legend of, 47 
 
 St. Mary Rounceval, hospUal of, at 
 
 Charing Cross, 99, 100 
 St. Mary's, or Bow Church, 94 
 
 — — Spital, House of, 92 ; destroyed, 178 
 St. Michael's Church, choir and aisles 
 
 rebuilt by Sir William Walworth, 102 
 
 • College, Crooked Lane, 102 
 
 le Quern Church, 227 
 
 St. Nicolas Shambles, butchers in, 145 
 
 St. Olaf, church dedicated to, 33 
 
 St. Osyth, Queen and Martyr, 33 
 
 St. Paul's, Cathedral of, 37, 38, 76, 230 ; 
 
 destroyed by fire, 264 
 ■ — — first church of, destroyed by fire, 34 
 
 Cross, 228 
 
 School, 200 
 
 St. Swilhin, church dedicated to, 33 
 St. Thomas of Aeon, College of, loi 
 of Canterbury, chapel dedicatee! *0j. 
 
 55 
 St. Thomas's- Hospital, 93 
 St. Vedast, church of, 53 
 
 THE 
 
 Salutation of the Mother of God, house 
 
 of the, 84 
 Saxon house, description of, 60 
 
 — London, destroyed by fire 1 135, 34 
 
 darkest period of any, 34 
 
 foreign merchants in, 31 
 
 no remains of, 37 
 
 — women, employment of, 65 
 Saxons, East, 25 
 
 before and after conversion to 
 
 Christianity, 32 
 
 — fond of vegetables, 62 
 
 Schools, Grammar, erected by Henry 
 VL, 162, 200 
 
 — — in (ime of Elizabeth, 199 
 
 — of the alien priories suppressed, 162 
 Sebbi, King, 37 
 
 Selds, 128 
 
 Sernes Tower, 58 
 
 Servants, troop of, a mark of state, in 
 time of Elizabeth, 205 ; ladies' treat- 
 ment of their, 205 
 
 ' Setter,' the, in the Georgian period, 328 
 
 Sevenoke, Sir William, 132, 144, 160 
 
 ' Shabbaroons.' 276 
 
 Shakespeare, William, 241 
 
 Sion College, 180 
 
 Smithfield, horse-fair in, 36 
 
 Somerset House, 191 
 
 ' Sompnour,' the, in Chaucer, 106 
 
 Soper's Lane, pepperers and grocers in, 
 
 145 
 Southwark, 288 
 
 — Fair, 306 
 
 Sports in Saxon and Norman times, 36 ; 
 
 in Plantagenet days, 149, 150 
 Stage-coaches, 31 1 
 Staple, Mr. Richard, 197 
 Steelyard, the, 125 
 Still-room, importance of the, 317 
 Stocks Market, butchers in, 145 
 Stodie, Sir John, 123, 160 
 Stow, John, the antiquary, 212 
 Sunday amusements in the Georgian 
 
 period, 329 
 Sutton, Thomas, 178 
 Swan Inn, Uowgate, 244 
 
 — with Two Necks, the, 311 
 Swegan, 60 
 
 Taxes of a house about 1750, 310 
 
 Tea becomes cheaper, UwJ>. Charles II., 
 
 272 ; price of, temj>. George H., 313 
 Tea-drinking, 314 
 
 — John Wesley on, 315 
 Temple Bar, 289 
 
 — Church, the, 47 
 
 Thames, River, in Tudor times, 243 
 
 — Street, fishmongers in, 145 
 Theatre companies, /em^. Elizabeth, 203 
 
INDEX 
 
 543 
 
 THE 
 
 Theatre, first, built in 1570, 203 
 Theatres at end of sixteenth century, 
 
 203, 237 
 Tobacco, use of, spreads rapidly, 207 
 Tofig, the royal standard-bearer, 96 
 Tom's Coffee-house, 273 
 Torgnton, Desiderata de, hanged for 
 
 theft, 166 
 Torold, Roger, imprisoned for speaking 
 
 disrespectfully of the mayor, 167 
 Tournaments, temp. Elizabeth, 201 
 ' Town Parson,' the, in Chaucer, 106 
 Tower of London, 57 
 
 — Royal, 58, 120 
 
 Trade, foreign, of City, 129 
 
 — great advance of, in time of Elizabeth, 
 
 I93> 195, 196 
 
 — loss and injury caused to, by the 
 Plague, 256 
 
 Trades carried on in the City, 36, 146 
 
 — enumerated by Daniel Defoe, 252 
 
 — of the City allotted their own places of 
 work and sale, 36, 145 
 
 Tradition, continuity of, 15 
 Turkey Company, the, 197 
 Tyler, Wat, destruction of buildings by, 
 91 ; killed, 102 
 
 Vagabonds, temp. Elizabeth, 208 
 Vauxhall Gardens, 331 
 Vegetables as part of daily diet rein- 
 troduced, 207 
 Venice treacle, 317, 318 
 Vicinal Way, 17, 24 
 Vintners' Hall, 123 
 Vintry, the, 123, 145 
 ' Vox Civitatis,' tract on the Plague, 260 
 Vortigern, King of the Britons, 6 
 
 Wages of the craftsman, 165 
 Walls, City, 288 
 
 WOO 
 
 Waltham Abbey Church, 95 
 
 Cranmer at, 98 
 
 Foxe's * Book of Martyrs ' written 
 
 here, 98 
 
 Harold at, 98 
 
 history of, 96-98 
 
 Thomas Fuller wrote his ' Church 
 
 History' here, 98 
 
 Walworth, Sir William, 102, 132 
 
 Wardens of Companies, 141 
 
 Washington, arms of, in Holy Trinity 
 Church, Minories, 92 
 
 Water supply of London, 58 
 
 Watling Street, 16 
 
 Weavers, Guild of, 139 
 
 Wells, Sir John, 132 
 
 Wesley, John, on tea-drinking, 315 
 
 Westminster, 288 
 
 Wethell, Richard, 205 
 
 Wheat, prices of, in time of Charles IL, 
 280 ; in time of George H., 324 
 
 ' Whip Jack,' the, 277 
 
 Whitawers' Coinpany, 303 
 
 White Friars, the house of the Carmel- 
 ites, 84 
 
 Whitefriars Theatre, 203 
 
 Whittington, Richard, 81, 124, 131, 
 
 134, I93> 198, 199 
 — College of, loi, 160 
 ' Wild Rogue,' the, 276 
 William of Wykeham, 39 
 Willoughby, Sir Hugh, 197 
 Winchester House, 177, 180, 193 
 Window-tax, 310 
 Wine-drinking introduced by Normans, 
 
 62 
 'Wonderful Year, the,' 1603, pamphlet 
 
 on plague, 258 
 Women, English, excel in embroidery, 
 
 Wood Street Compter, a prison, 333 
 
 I 
 
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