'Clarke of the Bow Bell with thy yellow lockes:In thy late ringing, thy head shall have knockes.'
'Clarke of the Bow Bell with thy yellow lockes:In thy late ringing, thy head shall have knockes.'
To which the clerk replied:
'Children of Chepe, hold you all stille:For you shall have Bow Bell ring at your will.'
'Children of Chepe, hold you all stille:For you shall have Bow Bell ring at your will.'
St. Mary's Woolnoth was for many years the church of the Rev. John Newton, once the poet Cowper's friend. He began his life in the merchant service and was for many years engaged in the slave trade.
For these reasons—their antiquity, their history, their associations—the destruction of the City churches ought to be resisted with the utmost determination. You who read this page may very possibly become parishioners of such a church. Learn that, without the consent of the parishioners, no church can be destroyed. A meeting of parishioners must be called: they must vote and decide. Do not forget this privilege. The time may come when your vote and your's alone, may retain for your posterity a church rich in history and venerable with the traditions of the past.
You have seen how the wall surrounded Roman London. The same wall which defended and limited Augusta defended and limited Plantagenet London. Outside the wall on the east there continued to extend wide marshesalong the river; moorlands and forest on the north; marshes with rising ground on the west; marshes on the south. Wapping was called Wapping in the Wose (Wash or Ouze), meaning in the Marsh: Bermondsey was Bermond's Island, standing in the marsh: Battersea was Batter's Island, or perhaps Island of Boats: Chelsea was the Island of Chesel or Shingle: Westminster Abbey was built on the Isle of Thorns. The monasteries standing outside the wall attracted a certain number of serving people who built houses round them: some of the riverside folk—boat-builders, lightermen, and so forth—were living in the precinct of St. Katharine, just outside the Tower: all along the Strand were great men's houses, one of which, the Somerset House, still stands in altered form, and another, Northumberland House, was only pulled down a few years ago. Southwark had a single main street with a few branches east and west: it also contained several great houses, and was provided with many Inns for the use of those who brought their goods from Kent and Surrey to London Market. It was also admitted as a ward. On either side of the High Street lay marshes. The river was banked—hence the name Bank Side—but it is not known at what time.
That part of the wall fronting the river had long been pulled down, but the stairs were guarded with iron chains, and there was a river police which rowed about among the shipping at night.
CHEPE IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.CHEPE IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.
The streets and lanes of London within the walls were very nearly the same as they are at present, except for the great thoroughfares constructed within the last thirty years. That is to say, when one entered at Lud Gate and passed through Paul's Churchyard, he found himself in the broad street, the market place of the City, known as Chepe. This continued to the place where the Royal Exchange now stands, where it broke off into two branches, Cornhill and Lombard Street.These respectively led into Leadenhall Street and Fenchurch Street, which united again before Aldgate. Another leading thoroughfare crossed the City from London Bridge to Bishopsgate, and another, Thames Street, by far the most important, because here the merchant adventurers—those who had ships and imported goods—met for the transaction of business. The rough cobbled pavement of Thames Street was the Exchange of Whittington and the merchants of his time, who all had their houses on the rising ground, among the narrow lanes north of the street. You have seen what splendid houses a London merchant loved to build. What kind of house did the retailer and the craftsman occupy? It was of stone in the lower parts, but the upper storey was generally of wood, and the roof was too often thatched. The window was glazed in the upper part, but had open work and shutter for the lower half: this half, with the door, stood open during the greater part of the year. The lower room was the living room, and sometimes the work room of the occupant. The upper floor contained the bed rooms. There was but one fireplace in the house—that in the living room. At the back of the house was generally a small garden. But, besides these houses, there were courts dark, narrow, noisome, where the huts were still 'wattle and daub,' that is, built with posts, the sides filled in with branches or sticks and clay or mud, the fire in the middle of the floor, the chimney overhead. And still, as in Saxon times, the great danger to the City was from fire.
Men of the same trade still congregated together for convenience. When all lived together the output would be regulated, prices maintained, and wages agreed upon. Nothing was more hateful to the mediæval trader thanforestalling and regrating. To forestall was to buy things before they arrived at market with intent to sell at a higher price. To regrate was to buy up in the market and sell again in the same market at an advanced price. To undersell your neighbour was then also an unpardonable crime. You discover, therefore, that trade in Plantagenet London was not like trade in Victorian London. Then, all men of the same trade stood by each other and were brothers: now, too often, men of the same trade are enemies.
The names of streets show the nature of the trades carried on in them. Turners and makers of wooden cups and platters, Wood Street: ironmongers, in their Lane: poultry sellers, the Poultry: bakers, Bread Street: and so on. Chepe was the great retail market of the City. It was built over gradually, but in early times it was a broad market covered with stalls, like the market-place of Norwich, for instance; these stalls were ranged in lines and streets: churches stood about among the lines. Then the stalls, which had been temporary wooden structures, were changed into permanent shops, which were also the houses of the tenants: the living room and kitchen were behind the shop: the master and his family slept above, and the prentices slept under the counter.
LARGE SHIP AND BOAT OF THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.LARGE SHIP AND BOAT OF THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.(The mainsail of the ship has the Beauchamp arms, and the streamer the bear and ragged staff. From the 'Life of Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick,' by John Rous; drawn about 1485.)
The story of Dick Whittington has been a favourite legend for many generations. The boy coming up to London poor and friendless; lying despairing on the green slope of Highgate; resolved to return to the country since he can find no work in London: the falling upon his ears of the bells of Bow, wafted across thefields by the south wind—every child knows all this. What did the bells say to him—the soft and mellow bells, calling to him across four miles of fields? 'Turn again, Whittington—Turn again, Whittington—Lord Mayor of London—Turn again, Whittington.' He did turn, as we know, and became not once, but four times Lord Mayor of London and entertained kings, and was the richest merchant of his time. And all through a cat—we know how the cat began his fortune.
That is the familiar legend. Now you shall learn the truth.
There was a Dick Whittington: and he was Lord Mayor of London—to be accurate, he was Mayor of London, for the title of Lord Mayor did not yet exist.
He was not a poor and friendless lad by any means. He belonged to a good family, his father, Sir William Whittington, Knight, being owner of an estate in Herefordshire called Soler's Hope, and one in Gloucestershire called Pauntley. The father was buried at Pauntley Church, where his shield may still be seen. Richard was the youngest of three sons of whom the eldest, William, died without children: and the second, Robert, had sons of whom one, Guy, fought at Agincourt. From the second son there are descendants to this day.
Richard, at the age of fourteen, was sent to London, where he had connections. Many country people had connections in London who were merchants. Remember that in those days it would be impossible for a boy to rise from poverty to wealth and distinction by trade. Such a lad might rise in the church, or even, but I know not of any instance, by distinguished valour on the field of battle. Most certainly, he would be prenticed to a craft and a craftsman he would remain all his life. Whittington was a gentleman: that was the first and necessary condition to promotion: he came to London, not to learn a craft at all, but to be apprenticed to his cousin Sir JohnFitzwarren, Mercer and Merchant Adventurer. The Mercers were the richest and most important company in London: the merchant adventurers were those—the foremost among the Mercers—who owned ships which they despatched abroad with exports and with which they imported stuffs and merchandise to the Port of London. Whittington's master may have had a shop or stall in Chepe—but he was a great importer of silks, satins, cloth of gold, velvets, embroideries, precious stones, and all splendid materials required for an age of splendid costume.
A SEA-FIGHT.A SEA-FIGHT.(From the 'Life of Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick'; drawn by John Rous about 1485.)
What is the meaning of the 'cat' story? Immediately after Whittington's death the story was spread about. When his executors repaired Newgate they placed a carven cat on the outside: when Whittington's nephews, a few years later, built a house in Gloucester they placed a carven cat over the door in recognition of the story. All sorts of explanations have been offered. First, that there never was any cat at all. Next, that by a 'cat' is meant a kind of ship, a collier. Thirdly, that the cat is symbolical and means something else. Why need we go out of our way at all? A cat at that time was a valuable animal: not by any means common: in certain countries where rats were a nuisance a cat was very valuable indeed. Why should not the lad entrust a kitten to one of his master's skippers with instructions to sell it for him in any Levantine port at which the vessel might touch? Then he would naturally ever afterwards refer to the sale of the cat, the first venture of his own, as the beginning and foundation of his fortune. But you must believe about the cat whatever you please. The story has been told of other men. There was a Portuguese sailor, named Alphonso, who was wrecked on the Coast of Guinea. He carried a cat safelyashore and sold her to the King for her weight in gold: with this for his first capital he rapidly made a large fortune. Again, one Diego Almagro, a companion of Pizarro, bought the first cat ever taken to South America for 600 pieces of eight. And the story is found in Persia and in Denmark, and I dare say all over the world. Yet I believe in its literal truth.
In the year 1378 Whittington's name first appears in the City papers. He was then perhaps twenty-one—but the date of his birth is uncertain—and was already in trade, not, as yet, very far advanced, for his assessment shows that as yet he was in the lowest and poorest class of the wholesale Mercers.
For nearly fifty years after this Whittington leads an active, busy, prosperous life. It was a distracted time, full of troubles and anxieties. A Charter obtained in 1376, two or three years before he began business, was probably the real foundation of Whittington's fortune. For it forbade foreign merchants to sell by retail. This meant that a foreign ship bringing wine to the port of London could only dispose of her merchandise to the wholesale vintners: or one bringing silk could only sell it to wholesale mercers. The merchants, no doubt, intended to use this Charter for the furtherance of their own shipping interests.
This important Charter, presented by the King, was nearly lost a little after, when there was trouble about Wycliffe. The great scholar was ordered to appear at St. Paul's Cathedral before the Archbishop of Canterburyand the Bishop of London, to answer charges of heresy. He was not an unprotected and friendless man, and he appeared at the Cathedral under the protection of the powerful John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, son of King Edward III. The Bishop of London rebuked the Duke for protecting heretics, so the Duke, enraged, threatened to pull the Bishop out of his own church by the hair of his head. The people outside shouted that they would all die before the Bishop should suffer indignity. John of Gaunt rode off to Westminster and proposed that the office of Mayor should be abolished and that the Marshal of England should hold his court in the City—in other words, that even the liberties and Charters of the City should be swept clean away. Then the Londoners rushed to the Savoy, the Duke's palace, and would have sacked and destroyed it but for the Bishop. This story indicates the kind of danger to which, in those ages, the City was liable. There were no police; a popular tumult easily and suddenly became a rebellion: no one knew what might happen when the folk met together and wild passions of unreasoning fury were aroused.
Another danger of the time for the peaceful merchant. For some years the navigation of the North Sea and the Channel was greatly impeded by a Scottish privateer or pirate named Mercer. In vain had the City made representations to the King. Nothing was done, and the pirate grew daily stronger and bolder. Then Sir John Philpot, the Mayor, did a very patriotic thing. He built certain ships of his own, equipped them with arms, went on board as captain or admiral, and manned them with a thousand stout fellows. He found the pirate off Scarborough, fell upon him, slew him with all his men and returned to London Port with all his own ships andall the pirate's ships—including fifteen Spanish vessels which had joined Mercer.
The King pretended to be angry with this private mode of carrying on war, but the thing was done, and it was a very good thing, and profitable to London and to the King himself, therefore when Sir John Philpot gave the King the arms and armour of a thousand men and all his own ships and prize ships, the Royal clemency was not difficult to obtain. I wish that I could state that Whittington had sailed with Sir John on this gallant expedition.
A third trouble arose in the year 1381 on the rebellion of the peasants under John Ball, Wat Tyler, Jack the Miller, Jack the Carter, and Jack Trewman. The rebels held possession of the City for awhile. They destroyed the Savoy, the Temple and the houses of the foreign merchants (this shows that they had been joined by some of the London people). They murdered the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Prior of St. John's Hospital. Then the citizens roused themselves and with an army of 6,000 men stood in ranks to defend the King.
Then there happened the troubles of John of Northampton, Mayor in 1382. You have learned how trades of all kinds were banded together each in its own Company. Every Company had the right of regulating prices. Thus the Fishmongers sold their fish at a price ordered by the Warden or Master of the Company. It is easy to understand that this might lead to murmurs against the high price of fish or of anything else. This, in fact, really happened. It was a time of great questioning and doubt; the rising of Wat Tyler shows that this spirit was abroad. The craftsmen of London, those who made things, grumbled loudly at the price of provisions. They asked why the City should not take over the trade in food ofall kinds and sell it to the people at lower prices. John of Northampton being Mayor, took the popular view. He did not exactly make over the provisioning of the City to the Corporation, but he first obtained an Act of Parliament throwing open the calling of fishmonger to all comers; and then another which practically abolished the trade of grocers, pepperers, fruiterers, butchers, and bakers. Imagine the rage with which such an Act would now be received by London tradesmen!
The next Mayor, however, obtained the rescinding of these Acts. In consequence, fish went up in price and there was a popular tumult, upon which one man was hanged and John of Northampton was sent to the Castle of Tintagel on the Cornish Coast, where he remained for the rest of his life.
In the year 1384, being then about twenty-six years of age, Whittington was elected a member of the Common Council. In the year 1389 he was assessed at the same sum as the richest citizen. So that these ten years of his life were evidently very prosperous. In the year 1393 he was made Alderman for Broad Street Ward. In the same year he was made Sheriff. In the year 1396, the Mayor, Adam Bamme, dying in office, Whittington succeeded him. The following year he was elected Mayor.
In the year 1401, water was brought from Tyburn (now the N.E. corner of Hyde Park) to Cornhill in pipes, a great and important boon to the City.
In the year 1406 he was again elected Mayor. The manner of his election is described in the contemporaryrecords. After service in the chapel of the Guildhall, the outgoing Mayor, with all the Aldermen and as many as possible of the wealthier and more substantial Commoners of the City, met in the Guildhall and chose two of their number, viz., Richard Whittington and Drew Barentyn. Then the Mayor receiving this nomination retired into a closed chamber with the Aldermen and made choice of Whittington.
In the year 1419 he was elected Mayor for the third and last time, but, counting his succession to Bamme, he was actually four times Mayor. In 1416 he was returned Member of Parliament for the City.
It was not a new thing for a citizen to be made Mayor more than once. Three during the reign of Edward III. were Mayor four times; two, three times; seven, twice.
In Whittington's later years began the burning of heretics and Lollards. It is certain that Lollardism had some hold in the City, but one knows not how great was the hold. A priest, William Sawtre, was the first who suffered. Two men of the lower class followed. There is nothing to show that Whittington ever swerved from orthodox opinions.
In 1416, the City was first lighted at night: all citizens were ordered to hang lanterns over their doors. How far the order was obeyed, especially in the poorer parts of the City, is not known.
In 1407 a plague carried off 30,000 persons in London alone. If this number is correctly stated it must have taken half the population.
Many improvements were effected in the City during these years: it is reasonable to suppose that Whittington had a hand in bringing these about. Fresh water brought in pipes: lights hung out after dark: the erectionof a house—Bakewell Hall—for the storage and sale of broadcloth: the erection of a store for the reception of grain, in case of famine—this was the beginning of Leadenhall—the building of a new Guildhall: and an attempt to reform the prisons—an attempt which failed.
In his last year of office Whittington entertained the King, Henry V. and his Queen.
There was as yet no Mansion House: every Mayor made use of his own private house.
The magnificence of the entertainment amazed the King. Even the fires were fed with cedar and perfumed wood. When the Queen spoke of this costly gift the Mayor proposed to feed the fire with something more precious still. He then produced the King's bonds to the value of 60,000l.which he threw into the fire and burned. This great sum would be a very considerable gift even now. In that time it represented at least six times its present value. The Mayor therefore gave the King the sum of 360,000l.
This is, very shortly, an account of Whittington's public life.
He lived, I believe, on the north side of St. Michael's Paternoster Royal. I think so because his College was established there after his death, and as he had no children it is reasonable to suppose that his house would be assigned to the College. There is nothing to show what kind of house it was, but we may rest assured that the man who could entertain the King and Queen in such a manner was at least well housed. There is a little court on this spot which is, I believe, on the site of Whittington's house. They used to show a house in Hart Street as Whittington's, but there was no ground for the tradition except that it was a very old house.
Whittington married his master's daughter, AliceFitzwarren. He had no children, and he died in 1423 when he was sixty-five years of age.
Such was the real Whittington. A gentleman by birth, a rich and successful man, happy in his private life, a great stickler for justice, as a magistrate severe upon those who cheat and adulterate, a loyal and patriotic man, and always filled with the desire to promote the interests of the City which had received him and made him rich.
The stream of charity which has so largely enriched and endowed the City of London began very early. You have seen how Rahere built and endowed Bartholomew's, and how Queen Maud founded the Lazar House of St. Giles. The fourteenth century furnishes many more instances. Thus William Elsinge founded in 1332 a hospital for a hundred poor blind men: in 1371 John Barnes gave a chest containing 1,000 marks to be lent by the City to young men beginning trade. You have heard how one Mayor went out to fight a pirate and slew him and made prizes of his vessels. Another when corn was very dear imported at his own expense a great quantity from Germany. Another gave money to relieve poor prisoners: another left money for the help of poor householders: another provided that on his commemoration day in the year 2,400 poor householders, of the City should have a dinner and every man two pence. This means in present money about £600 a year, or an estate worth £20,000: another left money to pay the tax called the Fifteenth, for three parishes: another brought water in a conduit from Highbury to Cripplegate.
But the greatest and wisest benefactor of his timewas Whittington. In his own words: 'The fervent desire and busy intention of a prudent, wise, and devout man, should be to cast before and make secure the state and the end of this short life with deeds of mercy and pity, and especially to provide for those miserable persons whom the penury of poverty insulteth, and to whom the power of seeking the necessaries of life by act or bodily labour is interdicted.'
With these grave words, which should be a lesson to all men, rich or poor, Whittington begins the foundation of his College. If a man were in these days to found a College he would make it either a school for boys or a technical school—in any case a place which should be alwaysworkingfor the world. In those days, when it was universally believed that the saying of masses was able to lift souls out of punishment, a man founded a College which shouldprayfor the world. Whittington's College was to consist of a Master and four Fellows—who were to be Masters of Arts—with clerks, choristers, and servants. They were every day to say mass for the souls of Richard and Alice Whittington in the church of St. Michael's Paternoster Royal—which church Whittington himself had rebuilt. Behind the church he founded and built an almshouse for thirteen poor men, who were to have 16d.each per week, about 7s.of our money, with clothing and rooms on the condition of praying daily for their founder and his wife. Part of the ground for the building was granted by the Mayor and Corporation.
The College continued until the Dissolution of the Religious Houses—that is, for one hundred and fifty years: the almshouse continues to this day: but it has been removed to Highgate: on its site the Mercers' Company has established a school.
Whittington, further, built a library for the Franciscan House; part of the building still remains at Christ's Hospital. It was 129 feet long and 31 feet broad. He also gave the friars 400l.to buy books. He restored and repaired the Hospital of St. Bartholomew's, to which he gave a library. He paved and glazed the new building of Guildhall: he gave large sums for the bridge—and the chapel on the bridge—at Rochester—as a merchant he was greatly interested in keeping this important bridge in order: he repaired Gloucester Cathedral—the cathedral church of his native diocese: he made 'bosses,' i.e. taps of water, to the great aqueduct: he rebuilt and enlarged Newgate Prison; and he founded a library at Guildhall.
Many of these things were done after his death by his executors.
Such were the gifts by which a City merchant of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries sought to advance the prosperity of the citizens. Fresh water in plenty by 'bosses' here and there: the light of learning by means of libraries: almshouses for the poor: mercy and charity for the prisoners: hospitals for the sick: help for the young: prayers for the dead. These things he understood.
We cannot expect any man to be greatly in advance of his age. Otherwise we should find a Whittington insisting upon cleanliness of streets: fresh air in the house: burial outside the City: the abolition of the long fasts which made people eat stinking fish and so gave them leprosy: the education of the craftsmen in something besides their trade: the establishment of a patrol by police: and the freedom of trade.
He did not found any school. That is a remarkable omission. One of his successors, Sir William Sevenoke,founded a school for lads of his native town Sevenoaks: another, Sir Robert Chichele, founded a school, an almshouse, and a college in his native town of Higham Ferrers. A friend of his own, Sir John Niel, proposed to establish four new grammar schools in the City. And yet Whittington left no money for a school. We may be quite sure that there was a reason for the omission. Perhaps he was afraid of the growing spirit of doubt and inquiry. Boys who learn grammar and rhetoric may grow into men who question and argue; and so, easily and naturally, get bound to the stake and are consumed with the pile of faggots. Everything was provided except a school for boys. Libraries for men; but not a school for boys. The City of London School was founded by Whittington's executor, John Carpenter. There must have been reasons in Whittington's mind for omitting any endowment of schools. What those reasons were I cannot even guess.
When you think of a great city of the thirteenth or fourteenth century you must remember two things. First, that the streets were mostly very narrow—if you walk down Thames Street and note the streets running north and south you will be able to understand how narrow the City streets were. Second, that the great houses of the nobles and the rich merchants stood in these narrow streets, shut in on all sides though they often contained spacious courts and gardens. No attempt was made to group the houses or to arrange them with any view to picturesque effect.
It has been the fashion to speak of mediæval London as if it were a city of hovels grouped together along darkand foul lanes. This was by no means the case. On the contrary, it was a city of splendid palaces and houses nearly all of which were destroyed by the Great Fire. You have seen how the City was covered with magnificent buildings of monasteries and churches. Do not believe that the nobles and rich merchants who endowed and built these places would be content to live in hovels.
DURHAM, SALISBURY, AND WORCESTER HOUSES.DURHAM, SALISBURY, AND WORCESTER HOUSES.
The nobles indeed wanted barracks. A great Lord never moved anywhere without his following. The Earl of Warwick, called the King Maker, when he rode into London was followed by five hundred men, wearing his colours: all of these had to find accommodation in his town house. This was always built in the form of a court or quadrangle. The modern Somerset House, which is built on the foundations of the old house, shows us what a great man's house was like: and the College of Heralds in Queen Victoria Street, is another illustration, for this was Lord Derby's town house. Hampton Court and St. James's, are illustrations of a great house with more thanone court. Any one who knows the colleges of Oxford and Cambridge will understand the arrangement of the great noble's town house in the reign of Richard II. On one side was the hall in which the banquets took place and all affairs of importance were discussed. The kitchen, butteries and cellars stood opposite the doors of the hall; at the back of the hall with a private entrance were the rooms of the owner and his family: the rest of the rooms on the quadrangle were given up to the use of his followers.
Baynard's Castle—the name yet survives—stood on the river bank not far from Blackfriars. It was a huge house with towers and turrets and a water gate with stairs. It contained two courts. It was at last, after standing for six hundred years, destroyed in the Great Fire, and was one of the most lamentable of the losses caused by that disaster. The house had been twice before burned down, and that which finally perished was built in 1428. Here Edward IV. assumed the Crown: here he placed his wife and children for safety before going forth to the Battle of Barnet. Here Buckingham offered the Crown to Richard. Here Henry VIII. lived. Here Charles II. was entertained.
Eastward, also on the river bank and near the old Swan Stairs, stood another great house called Cold Harbour. It belonged to Holland, Dukes of Exeter, to Richard III. and to Margaret, Countess of Richmond.
North of Thames Street near College Hill was the Erber, another great house which belonged successively to the Scropes and the Nevilles. Here lived the King-maker Earl of Warwick. His following was so numerous that every day six oxen were consumed for breakfast alone. His son-in-law, who had the house afterwards, was the Duke of Clarence—'false, fleeting, perjured Clarence.'
If you would know how a great merchant of the fifteenth century loved to be housed, go visit Crosby Hall. It is the only specimen left of the ancient wealth and splendour of a City merchant. But as one man lived so did many. We cannot believe that Crosby was singular in his building a palace for himself.
London with its narrow streets, its crowded courts, and the corners where the huts and hovels of wood and daub and thatch stood among their foul surroundings, a constant danger to the great houses of fire and plague, was a city of great houses and palaces, with which no other city in Europe could compare. Venice and Genoa had their Crosby Halls—their merchants' palaces; but London had in addition, the town houses of all the nobles of the land. In the City alone, without counting the Strand and Westminster, there were houses of the Earls of Arundel, Northumberland, Worcester, Berkeley, Oxford, Essex, Thanet, Suffolk, Richmond, Pembroke, Abergavenny, Warwick, Leicester, Westmoreland. Then there were the houses of the Bishops and the Abbots. All these before we come to the houses of the rich merchants. Let your vision of London under the Plantagenets be that of a city all spires and towers, great churches and stately convents, with noble houses as great and splendid as Crosby Hall scattered all about the City within the walls and lining the river bank from Ludgate to Westminster.
We have heard so much of the religious Houses, Companies, Hospitals, quarrels and struggles that we may have forgotten a very important element in the life of the City—the amusements and pastimes of the citizens.Never was there a time when the City had more amusements than in these centuries. You have seen that it was always a rich town: its craftsmen were well paid: food was abundant: the people were well fed always, except in times of famine, which were rare. There were taverns with music and singing: there were pageants, wonderful processions representing all kinds of marvels, devised by the citizens to please the King or to please themselves: there were plays representing scenes from the Bible and from the Lives of the Saints: there were tournaments to look at. Then there were the Festivals of the year, Christmas Day, Twelfth Day, Easter, the Day of St. John the Baptist, Shrove Tuesday, the Day of the Company, May Day, at all of which feasting and merriment were the rule. The young men, in winter, played at football, hockey, quarterstaff, and single stick. They had cock fighting, boar fights, and the baiting of bulls and bears. On May Day they erected a May-pole in every parish: they chose a May Queen:and they had morris-dancing with the lads dressed up as Robin Hood, Friar Tuck, Little John, Tom the Piper, and other famous characters.
BEAR-BAITINGBEAR-BAITING.(From the Luttrell Psalter.)
Then they shot with the bow and the cross-bow for prizes: they had wrestlings and they had foot races.
The two great festivals of the year were the Eve of St. John the Baptist and the Day of the Company.
SHOOTING AT THE BUTTS WITH THE LONG-BOW.SHOOTING AT THE BUTTS WITH THE LONG-BOW.
On the former there took place the March of the Watch. Bonfires were lit in the streets, not for warmth but in order to purge and cleanse the air of the narrow streets: at the open doors stood tables with meat and drink, neighbour inviting neighbour to hospitality. Then the doors were wreathed with green branches, leaves, and flowers: lamps of glass were hanging over them with oil burning all the night: some hung out branches of iron curiously wrought with hundreds of hanging lights. And everywhere the cheerful sounds of music and singing and the dancing of the prentice lads and girls in the open street. Through the midst of this joyousness filed the Watch. Four thousand men took part in this procession which was certainly the finest thing that Mediæval London had to show. To light the procession on its way the City found two hundredcressets or lanterns, the Companies found five hundred and the constables of London, two hundred and fifty in number, each carried one. The number of men who carried and attended to the cressets was two thousand. Then followed the Watch itself, consisting of two thousand captains, lieutenants, sergeants, drummers and fifers, standard bearers, trumpeters, demilances on great horses, bowmen, pikemen, with morris-dancers and minstrels—their armour all polished bright and some even gilded. No painter has ever painted this March: yet of all things, mediæval, it was the most beautiful and the most mediæval.
On the day of the Company, i.e. the Company's Saint's Day, all the members assembled in the Hall, every man in a new livery, in the morning. First they formed in procession and marched to church, headed by priests and singing boys, in surplices: after these walked the servants, clerks, assistants, the chaplain, the Mayor's sergeants, often the Lord Mayor himself. Lastly came the Court with the Master and Wardens followed by the Livery, i.e. the members.
After church they returned in like manner to the Hall, where a great banquet awaited them, music played in the gallery: the banners of the Company were hung over their heads: they burned scented wood: they sat in order, Master and Wardens and illustrious guests at the high table: and the freemen below, every man with his wife or some maiden if he were unmarried. After dinner the loving cup went round: the minstrels led in the players: and they had dramatic shows, songs, dances and 'mummeries' for the rest of the day.
Do not think of mediæval London as a dull place—it was full of life and of brightness: the streets were narrow perhaps, but they were full of colour from thebright dresses of all—the liveries of the Companies—the liveries of the great nobles—the splendid costume of the knights and richer class. The craftsman worked from daylight till curfew in the winter: from five or six in the summer: he had a long day: but he had three holidays: he had his evenings: and his Sundays. A dull time was going to fall upon the Londoners, but not yet for two hundred years.
Hitherto our attention has been confined to the City within the walls. It is time to step outside the walls.
All this time, i.e. ever since peaceful occupation became possible, a town had been growing up on the west side of London. You have seen that formerly there spread a broad marsh over this part. Some rising ground kept what is now the Strand above the river, but Westminster, except for certain reed-grown islets, was nothing but a marsh covered over twice in the day by the tide. The river thus spreading out over marshes on either bank was quite shallow, and could in certain places be forded. The spot where any ford existed afterwards became a ferry. Lambeth Bridge spans the river at one such place, the memory of which is now maintained in the name of the Horseferry Road. The largest of these islets was once called Thorney, i.e. the Isle of Thorns. If you will take a map of Westminster, shift the bank of the river so as to make it flow along Abingdon Street, draw a stream running down College Street into the Thames; another running into the Thames across King Street, and draw a ditch or moat connecting the two streams along Delahaye Street and Princes Street you will have Thorney, about a quarter of a mile long, and not quite so much broad,standing just above high water level. This was the original Precinct of Westminster.
TOMB OF EDWARD III. IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY.TOMB OF EDWARD III. IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY.
The Abbey of St. Peter's, Westminster, is said to have been founded on the first conversion of the East Saxons, and at the same time as the Foundation of St. Paul's. We know nothing about the foundation of the church. During the Danish troubles the Abbey was deserted. It was refounded by Dunstan. It was, however, rebuilt in much greater splendour by Edward the Confessor. Of his work something still remains, and can be pointed out to the visitor. But the present Abbey contains work by Henry III., Edward I., Richard II.—Whittington being commissioner for the work—Henry VII. and Wren, Hawksmoor and Gilbert Scott the architects.
There is no monument on British soil more venerable than Westminster Abbey. You must not think that you know the place when you have visited it once or twice. You must go there again and again. Every visit should teach you something of your country and its history. The building itself betraying to those who can read architecture the various periods at which its builders lived: the beauty of the building, the solemnity of the services—these are things which one must visit the Abbey often in order to understand. Then there are the associations of the Abbey; the things that have been done in the Abbey: the crowning of the Kings, in a long line from Edward the Confessor downwards. Here Edward the Fourth's Queen, Elizabeth Woodville, took sanctuary when her husband suffered reverse: here the unfortunate Edward V. was born. Here the same unhappy Queen brought her two boys when her husband died. Here Caxton set up his first printing press: here is the coronation chair. Here is the shrine of the sainted Edward the Confessor. It is robbed of its precious stones and its gold: but the shrine is the same as that before whichfor five hundred years people knelt as to the protector saint of England. This is the burial-place of no fewer than twenty-six of our Kings and their Queens. This is the sacred spot where we have buried most of our great men. To name a few whose monuments you should look for, here are Sir William Temple, Lord Chatham, Fox and Wilberforce, among statesmen; of soldiers there are Prince Rupert and Monk; of Indian fame, here are Lord Lawrence and Lord Clyde; of sailors, Blake, Cloudesley Shovel, and Lord Dundonald. Of poets, Chaucer, Spenser, Beaumont, Ben Jonson, Dryden, Prior, Addison, Gay, Campbell. Of historians and prose writers, Samuel Johnson, Macaulay, Dickens, Livingston, Isaac Newton. Many others there are to look for, notably the great poet Tennyson, buried here in October 1892.
Read what was written by Jeremy Taylor, a great divine, on Westminster Abbey:—
'A man may read a sermon, the best and most passionate that ever man preached, if he shall but enter into the sepulchre of Kings.... There the warlike and the peaceful, the fortunate and the miserable, the beloved and the despised princes mingle their dust and pay down their symbol of mortality; and tell all the world that when we die our ashes shall be equal to kings, and our accounts easier, and our pains or our crowns shall be less.'
Although the Kings of England have occasionally lodged in the Tower and even at Baynard's Castle, and other places in the City, the permanent home of the Court was always from Edward the Confessor to Henry VIII. at the Royal Palace of Westminster. Of this building,large, rambling, picturesque, only two parts are left, Westminster Hall and the crypt of St. Stephen's Chapel. When King Henry VIII. exchanged Westminster for Whitehall the rooms of the old Palace were given over to various purposes. One of them was the Star Chamber, in which the Star Chamber Court was held: one was the Exchequer Chamber: St. Stephen's Chapel was the House of Commons; and the House of Lords sat in the Old Court of Bequests. All that was left of the Palace except the Great Hall, was destroyed in the fire of 1834. Very fortunately the Hall was saved. This magnificent structure, one of the largest rooms in the world not supported by pillars, was built by William Rufus, and altered by Richard II. Here have been held Parliaments and Grand Councils. Here have been many State trials. Sir William Wallace was condemned in this Hall. Sir Thomas More; the Protector Somerset; Lady Jane Grey; Anne Boleyn; King Charles I.; the rebels of 1745, Lords Kilmarnock, Balmerino and Lovat: Earl Ferrers, for murdering his steward; all these were condemned. One or two have been acquitted, Lord Byron—cousin of the poet—for killing Mr. Chaworth: and Warren Hastings, the great Indian statesman. In Westminster Hall used to be held the Coronation Banquets at which the hereditary champion rode into the Hall in full armour and threw down a glove.
After the removal of the Court the Hall became the Law Courts. It is almost incredible that three Courts sat in this Hall, cases being heard before three Judges at the same time. In addition to the Courts, shops or stalls were ranged along the walls where dealers in toys, milliners, sempstresses, stationers and booksellers sold their wares. A picture exists showing this extraordinary use of the Hall.
It is more difficult to restore ancient Westminster than any part of the City. We must remember that the great Hall formed part of a square or quadrangle on which were the private rooms of the Sovereign, the State rooms of audience and banquet, the official rooms of the King's ministers and servants; this court led into others—one knows not how many—but certainly as many as belong to the older part of Hampton Court, which may be taken as resembling Westminster Palace in its leading features. The courts were filled with men-at-arms, serving men, pages, and minstrels. They went backwards and forwards on their business or they lay about in the sun and gambled. Sometimes there crossed the court some great noble followed by two or three of his servants on his way to a Council: or a bishop with his chaplain, to have speech with the King: or a group of townsmen after a brawl, who had been brought here with ropes about their necks, uncertain whether all would be pardoned or half a dozen hanged, the uncertainty lending a very repentant and anxious look to their faces. Or it would be the Queen's most Excellent Highness herself with her ladies riding forth to see the hunt. This was the daily life of the Court: we read the dry history of what happened but we forget the scenery in which it happened—the crowds of nobles, bishops, abbots, knights, men-at-arms, serving men, among whom all these things took place. We are apt to forget, as well, the extraordinary brightness, the colour, the glitter and gleam that belonged to those times when every man went dressed in some gay livery wearing the colours and the crest of his lord. Who rides there, the hart couchant—the deer at rest—upon his helm? A Knight belonging to the Court: one of the Knights of King Richard the Second. Who march with the bear and ragged staff upon their arms?They are the Livery of the Earl of Warwick. The clash and gleam of arms and armour everywhere: colour on the men as well as the women: colour on the trappings of the horses: colour on the hanging arras of the wall: colour on the cloth of scarlet which they hang out of the windows when the royal pageant rides along.
Close to the Palace, the Abbey. That too belongs to the time. Within the Abbey precincts the people are almost as crowded as in the Palace. But it is a different crowd. There is not so much colour: no arms or armour: an orderly crowd: there are the Benedictine monks themselves, with their crowd of servants, cooks, and refectory men: brewers: bakers: clothiers: architects, builders and masons: scribes and lawyers: foresters and farmers from the estates: stewards: cellarers: singing boys: organists—for the Abbey Church of St. Peter is as great and as rich and maintains as large an army of servants as the Cathedral Church of St. Paul.
In the time of the Plantagenets the punishments inflicted on wrongdoers were much more lenient than those which followed in later years. There is none of that brutal flogging which grew up in the last century, the worst time in the whole history of the country, for the people. This flogging not only in the army and navy but also for such offences as vagrancy, lasted even into the present century. In the year 1804 six women were publicly flogged at Gloucester for this offence. Under Whittington this barbarous cruelty would not have been done. There were, it is true, certain punishments which seem excessively cruel. If a man struck a sheriff or an alderman he was sentenced to have his right handchopped off. That is, indeed, worse than hanging. But, consider, the whole strength of London lay in its power to act and its resolution always to act, as one man. This could only be effected by habitual obedience to law and the most profound respect to the executive officers. Therefore the worst penalty possible—that which deprived a man of his power to work and his power to fight—which reduced him to ruin—which made his innocent children beggars—which branded him till death as a malefactor of the most dangerous kind—was inflicted for such an offence. Here, again, mercy stepped in; for, when the criminal was brought out for execution, if he expressed contrition the offended officer, represented by the Alderman of the Ward—begged that he might be pardoned.
For burglary criminals were ruthlessly hanged. This crime is bad enough now; it is a crime which ought at all times to be punished with the utmost rigour. But in these days what is it that a burglar can carry away from an ordinary house? A clock or two: a silver ring: a lady's watch and chain: a few trinkets: if any money, then only a purse with two or three pounds. The wealth of the family is invested in various securities: if the burglar takes the papers they are of no use to him: there is a current account at the bank; but that cannot be touched. Books, engravings, candlesticks, plated spoons—these are of little real value. Formerly, however, every man kept all his money—all his wealth—in his own house; if he was a rich merchant he had a stone safe or strong box constructed in the wall of his cellar or basement—I have seen such a safe in an old house pulled down about seven years ago. If he was only a small trader or craftsman he kept his money in a box: this he hid: there were various hiding places: behind the bed,under the hearthstone—but they were all known. A burglar, therefore, might, and very often did, take away the whole of a man's property and reduce him to ruin. For this reason it was very wisely ordered that a burglar should be hanged.
They began in the reign of Henry IV. to burn heretics. Later on they burned witches and poisoners. As yet they had not begun to slice off ears and to slit noses: there was no rack: nobody was tortured: nobody was branded on the hand: there was no whipping of women in Bridewell as a public show—that came later: there was no flogging at the cart tail.
Punishments were mild. Sometimes the criminal performed theamende honorable, marching along Chepe bareheaded and wearing nothing but a white shirt, carrying a great wax taper, escorted by the Mayor's sergeants. There was a ducking-stool on the other side of the river, at Bank Side, in which scolds were ducked. There was the thewe, which was a chair in which women were made to sit, lifted high above the crowd, exposed to their derision. There was the pillory, which served for almost all the cases which now come before a police magistrate—adulteration, false weights and measures, selling bad meat: pretending to be an officer of the Mayor: making and selling bad work: forging title deeds; stealing—all were punished in the same way. The offender was carried or led through the City—sometimes mounted with his head to the horse's tail—always with something about his neck to show the nature of his offence, and placed in pillory for a certain time.
There was one punishment always in reserve—the worst of all. This was deprivation of the privileges of a freeman and banishment from the City. 'Go,' said theMayor. 'Thou shalt dwell with us; trade with us; converse with us; no more. Go.' And so that source of trouble was removed.
We have seen how the trades formed companies—every trade having its own company. It must not, however, be understood that the working man gained much power by their unions. They were organised: they had to obey: obedience was very good for them as it is for all of us, always; but it must be obedience to a corporate body, not to a master. This they did not understand and they tried to form 'covins' or trades unions of their own. The City put down these attempts with a stern hand. The trade companies ruled hours of work, wages, and standard of work. Lastly, though there was no City police to guard the streets, there were certain laws for the maintenance of order. Nobody under the rank of knight was to carry arms in the streets: no one was to walk about the street after nine at night: houses were not to be built over streets. In a word, there were not many laws; but the people were law abiding. And this, perhaps, as much as anything else, explains the greatness of London.