Stow, quoting a history of Edmund the Martyr, King of the East Angles, by Abbo Floriacensis, says that in , when the Danes approached Bury St. Edmunds, Bishop Alwyn removed the body of the martyred king to St. Gregory's Church, near ; and as it passed through Cripplegate, such was the blessed influence it diffused, that many lame persons rose upright, and began to praise God for their miraculous cure. The postern afterwards became a prison, like the Compter, for debtors and common trespassers. [extra_illustrations.2.229.1]  was rebuilt, says Fabian, by the Brewers of London, in , and again in , at the cost of , money left by Edmund Shaw, goldsmith and exmayor. It was again repaired and beautified, and a foot-postern made, in the Charles II. The

[extra_illustrations.2.230.1] , is the successor of founded some years after the Conquest. It suffered greatly by fire in (Henry VIII.) Matilda, queen of Henry I., had founded a brotherhood there, dedicated to St. Mary and St. Giles. The church was repaired, and perhaps partially rebuilt, after the fire of .

Since that event,

it has undergone miscalled adornments, but has not been materially changed.

In the north aisle of this interesting and historical church lies a great benefactor to London antiquaries, the learned and laborious John Speed, the great topographical writer, who died . He was a wise tailor whom Sir Fulke Greville patronised, and who was assisted in his labours by Cotton and Spelman. He had in his time sons and daughters. [extra_illustrations.2.230.2]  is adorned with an effigy of Speed (once gilt and painted), holding in hand a book, and in the other a skull. The long eulogistic Latin inscription describes him as

Civis Londinensis Mercatorum Scissorum Fratris.

Considering that Foxe, the martyrologist (buried, it is believed, on the south side of the chancel) was sheltered by Sir Thomas Lucy, Shakespeare's traditional persecutor-

At home a poor scarecrow, in London an ass,

in all noble qualities becoming a virgin of so sweet proportion of beauty and harmonie of parts.

The striking-looking monument represents a female in a shroud rising from a coffin. According to tradition it commemorates the story of a lady who, after having been buried while in a trance, was not only restored to life, but subsequently became the mother of several children, her resuscitation, it is said, having been brought about by the cupidity of a sexton, which induced him to open the coffin, in order to obtain possession of a valuable ring on her finger. This story, however, is entirely fabulous.

A small white marble tablet within the communion-rails also records another Lucy. The inscription is-

Here lies Margaret Lucy, the

second

daughter of Sir Thomas Lucy, of Charlcott in the county of Warwicke, Knight (the

third

by imediate discent of the name of Thomas), by Alice, sole daughter and heire of Thomas Spenser, of Clarenden, in the same county, Esq., and Custos Brevium of the Courte of Comon Pleas at

Westminster

, who departed this life the

18th day of November, 1634

, and aboute the

19th

year of her age. For discretion and sweetnesse of conversation not many excelled, and for pietie and patience in her sicknesse and death, few equalled her; which is the comforte of her nearest friendes, to every of whom shee was very dear, but especiallie to her old grandmother, the Lady Constance Lucy, under whose government shee died, who, having long exspected every day to have gone before her, doth now trust, by faith and hope in the precious bloode of Christ Jesus, shortly to follow after, and be partaker, together with her and others, of the unspeakable and eternell joyes in His blessed kingdome; to whom be all honour, laude, and praise, now and ever. Amen.

In this church, too, after many a voyage and many a battle, rests that old Elizabethan warrior and explorer, [extra_illustrations.2.230.3] , who was brought here in -, after receiving his death shot at Brest. His northern discoveries while in search of a north-west passage to China, in a mere fishing-boat of tons, his West Indian cruise with Drake, and his noble courage against the Spanish Armada, fully entitle Frobisher to rank as of the earliest of our naval heroes.

Above all, Milton is buried here. A sacrilegious desecration of his remains, we regret to record, took place in . The object of the search for the sacred body was reasonable, the manner of the search disgraceful. The church being under repair, and being spent upon it, the vestry clerk and churchwardens had agreed--as a monument to Milton was contemplated at , and the exact spot of the poet's interment only traditionally known--to dig up the coffin whilst the repairs were still going on. The difficulty was this: the parish tradition had always been that Milton was buried in the chancel, under the clerk's desk, where afterwards the common councilmen's pew stood, in the same grave with his father, the scrivener, of . He died years after the

blessed Restoration,

The stone is now removed, for about

two

years since the

two

steps to the communiontable were raised.

The right spot was at last remembered, the ground was searched, and Milton's leaden coffin discovered, directly over the wooden of his father. The coffin, which was old, and bore no inscription, was feet inches in length. The following ghoulish and disgraceful scene, described by P. Neve, in his , , then took place. The disinterment had been agreed upon after a merry meeting at the house of Mr. Fountain, overseer, in , the night

Holmes, the journeyman, having fetched a mallet and a chisel, and cut open the top of the coffin, slantwise from the head, as low as the breast, so that, the top being doubled backward, they could see the corpse, he cut it open also at the foot. Upon first view of the body, it appeared perfect, and completely enveloped in the shroud, which was of many folds, the ribs standing up regularly. When they disturbed the shroud the ribs fell. Mr. Fountain confessed that he pulled hard at the teeth, which resisted, until some one hit them a knock with a stone, when they easily came out. There were but five in the upper jaw, which were all perfectly sound and white, and all taken by Mr. Fountain. He gave one of them to Mr. Laming. Mr. Laming also took one from the lower jaw; and Mr. Taylor took two from it. Mr. Laming said that he had at one time a mind to bring away the whole under-jaw with the teeth in it; he had it in his hand, but tossed it back again. Also, that he lifted up the head, and saw a great quantity of hair, which lay strait and even, behind the head, and in the state of hair which had been combed and tied together before interment; but it was wet, the coffin having considerable corroded holes, both at the head and foot, and a great part of the water with which it had been washed on the Tuesday afternoon having run into it.

Elizabeth Grant, the gravedigger, and who is servant to Mrs. Hoppy, therefore now took possession of the coffin; and, as its situation under the common councilmen's pew would not admit of its being seen without the help of a candle, she kept a tinder-box in the excavation, and, when any persons came, struck a light, and conducted them under the pew; where, by reversing the part of the lid which had been cut, she exhibited the body, at first for sixpence and afterwards for threepence and twopence each person. The workmen in the church kept the doors locked to all those who would not pay the price of a pot of beer for entrance, and many, to avoid that payment, got in at a window at the west end of the church, near to Mr. Ayscough's counting-house.

The hair torn off the poet's forehead resembled the short locks seen in Faithorne's quarto print of Milton taken in , years only before the poet's death. In Charles II.'s time, coffin-plates were not generally used, and it was only usual to paint the name, &c., on the outer wooden case. The rascals altogether stole a rib-bone, teeth, and several handfuls of hair.

Upon this sacrilege Cowper, horrified, wrote these lines:--

Ill fare the hands that heaved the stones Where Milton's ashes lay, That trembled not to grasp his bones, And steal his dust away.

O, ill-requited bard! neglect Thy living worth repaid, And blind idolatrous respect As much affronts the dead!

In all fairness, however, it must be added that grave doubts have been raised as to whether the corpse found was really that of the poet. Immediately on the publication of Mr. Neve's Narrative, it was ably answered in the in

Nine

Reasons why it is improbable that the coffin lately dug up in the Parish Church of St. Giles, Cripplegate, should contain the reliques of Milton.

In , Samuel Whitbread, Sheridan's friend, erected a bust to Milton in this church with this inscription:--

John Milton,

Author of

Paradise Lost

,

Born

Dec., 1608

,

Died

Nov., 1674

.

His father, John Milton, died

March, 1646

.

They were both interred in this church.

Samuel Whitbread posuit

,

1793

.

In this most interesting old church were buried many illustrious persons, recorded by Stow. Amongst these we may mention Robert Glover, a celebrated Elizabethan herald, who assisted Camden with the pedigrees of his famous John Foxe, the pious and laborious author of that manual of true Protestantism, was also interred here, as well as that good old herbalist and physician of Elizabeth's time, Dr. William Bulleyn, author of the (), and a works full of old wives' remedies and fantastic beliefs. Foxe the martyrologist was a Lincolnshire man, born in , the year Luther openly opposed Romish errors. At Oxford he became

[extra_illustrations.2.232.1]  famous for writing comedies in especially elegant Latin. For his religious opinions he was expelled Magdalen College, of which he was a Fellow, and, forsaken by his friends, he was reduced to great distress, till he was taken as family tutor by Sir Thomas Lucy, of Warwickshire, the Shakesperian traditional persecutor. With this worthy knight he remained till his children arrived at mature years, and had no longer need of a tutor. Now commenced a period of want and despair, which closed with what his son calls, in the Life of his father

a marvellous accident and great example of God's mercy.

Foxe was sitting day in , almost spent with long fasting, his countenance wan and pale, and his eyes hollow, when there came to him a person whom he never remembered to have seen before, who, sitting down by him, accosted him very familiarly, and put into his hands an untold sum of money, bidding him to be of good cheer, to be careful of himself, and to use all means to prolong his life, for that in a few days new hopes were at hand, and new means of subsistence. Foxe tried all methods to find out the person by whom he was thus so seasonably relieved, but in vain.

The prediction was fulfilled, for within days the starving student was taken by the Duchess of Richmond as tutor to her nephews and niece, the children of the poet Earl of Surrey. At the escape of Surrey's father, the Duke of Norfolk, from prison, on the death of that swollen tyrant, Henry VIII., the duke took Foxe under his patronage, but Bishop Gardiner's determination to seize him compelled Foxe to take refuge in Switzerland. On the accession of Elizabeth, Foxe returned to England, and was made Prebend of Salisbury. Although befriended by Sir Francis Drake, Bishop Grindal, and Sir Thomas Gresham, Foxe never rose high in the church, having Genevese scruples about ecclesiastical vestments, which he was too honest to swallow. Queen Elizabeth used to call the old martyrologist

Father,

new monks,

into Jewish bondage.

The parish register of records the marriage of Oliver Cromwell and Elizabeth Bourchier, on the . The future Protector was then in his year.

In a fine battlemented piece of the of Edward IV.'s time, tufted with wild plants, that stood in the churchyard of , Cripplegate, was taken down, having become dangerous. It joined on to the fine base of the round bastion tower still existing at the south-west corner, and is the most perfect portion left.

In

Rainy Day

There is little to be said about the Norman church of St. Alphage, . It was built, remarks Cunningham,

in

1777

(it is said by Dance), on the site of the old Hospital or Priory of St. Mary the Virgin, founded for the sustentation of

one hundred

blind men in

1532

, by William Elsing, mercer, and of which Spittle, the founder, was the

first

prior. The living is a rectory, and was originally in the gift of the Abbot of

St. Martin's-le-Grand

. It afterwards came to the Abbot and Convent of

Westminster

, and was ultimately conferred by Mary I. on the Bishop of London and his successors for ever.

[extra_illustrations.2.232.2] , in , is said to have been of the date of Edward IV. The hall was built by Inigo Jones, , and was repaired by that distinguished amateur in architecture, the Earl of Burlington. The theatre, of the finest of Inigo's works, in the opinion of Horace Walpole, was pulled down at the latter end of the last century, and sold for the value of the materials. Hatton describes it temptingly as a theatre fitted with

four

degrees of cedar seats,

Trust in God,

Before the late changes the Barber-Surgeons'

[extra_illustrations.2.233.1]  Hall used to be dirty and neglected. The inner hall, now pulled down, was some feet by , and was lighted by an octagonal lantern, enriched with fruit and flowers delicately carved in wood. Many of the pictures are fine, especially the great Holbein's,

The Presentation of the Charter by Henry VIII.

To this year

also possibly belongs the Barber-Surgeons' picture of Henry granting a charter to the corporation. The Barbers and Surgeons of London, originally constituting one company; had been separated, but were again, in the thirty-second of Henry VIII., combined into a single society, and it was the ceremony of presenting them with a new charter which is commemorated by Holbein's picture, now in their hall in Monkwell Street. In 1745 they were again separated, and the Surgeons constituted a distinct company, and had a hall in the Old Bailey. The date of this picture is not known, but it was necessarily in or after 1541, and as Holbein's life did not extend much beyond this time, there is some probability in the report alluded to by Van Mander, namely, that the painter died without completing the picture. Besides the king's --a seated full-length, crowned, and with the sword of state in his right hand--it contains also portraits of eighteen members of the guild, three kneeling on the right hand of the king, and fifteen on the other, and among them are conspicuous our friends Butts and Chamber on the right. The head of the latter is effective and good, though the portraits generally are unsatisfactory; but Warden Aylef's, the second on the left, is especially good. The rest are indifferent, either owing to the fact of their having been some of them perhaps entirely repainted, or possibly having never had a touch of Holbein's in them.

There is a large engraving of this picture by B. Baron, but reversed. The names of the members of the guild are written in a most offensive manner over the face of the picture, which is a piece of barbarism that belongs, I imagine, to a period long subsequent to the time of Holbein. These names are J. Alsop, W. Butts, J. Chamber, T. Vycary (the master of the guild, who is receiving the charter from the left hand of the king), T. Aylef, N. Symson, E. Harman, J. Monforde, J. Pen, M. Alcoke, R. Fereis, X. Samon, and W. Tylly; five of the second row are without names.

The king is placed very stiffly, and the face, much repainted, is that we are familiar with in the many ordinary half-lengths of the king, representing him in the last years of his life. The composition is anything but graceful, and there is not an entire hand in the whole piece; the king's hands are good, though slight and sketchy. The principle of the composition is somewhat Egyptian, for the king is made about twice the size of the other figures, though they are in front of him.

We have an interesting notice of this picture in Pepys' Diary, where, against the date August 29, 1668, that is, two years after the Great Fire, he notes: At noon comes, by appointment, Harris to dine with me; and after dinner he and I to Chirurgeons' Hall, where they are building it new, very fine; and there to see their theatre, which stood all the fire, and, which was our business, their great picture of Holbein's, thinking to have bought it, by the help of Mr. Pierce, for a little money. I did think to give 200 for it, it being said to be worth 1,000; but it is so spoiled that I have no mind to it, and is not a pleasant though a good picture.

Pepys is very candid about his motive for buying the picture; because it was said to be worth a thousand pounds he was willing to give two hundred for it, not that he wanted the picture for its own sake; however, he did not like it, and he declined the speculation. When we consider the worth of money at that time, the estimated value seems an enormous one. Pepys' own price was not an inconsiderable sum. The picture is on oak, on vertical boards, about six feet high by ten feet three inches in width. The College of Surgeons possesses an old, but smaller, indifferent copy of it, on paper attached to canvas. J. Alsop, on the extreme right, is omitted; and in the place of a tablet with a Latin inscription, which disfigures the Barber-Surgeons' picture, is a window showing the old tower of St. Bride's, indicating, accordingly, the palace of Bridewell as the place of the ceremony.

There can be no question of the genuineness of this picture in its foundations, but in its present state it is not remarkable that it should cause discussions. I am disposed to believe that Holbein never did finish the picture, and from the great inferiority of the second series of heads on the left hand of the king I think that these must have been added later. There is no trace of Holbein's hand in them; and the fact of five of them being without names is also suggestive of the assumption that these five were not even members of the guild when the picture was painted. Two of this background group are named X. Samson and W. Tilley; these, therefore, may have been Holbein's contemporaries, though not introduced by him into the picture. it is not to be supposed that the king sat to Holbein for this portrait; it is the stock portrait of the time. The king is not looking at the master, Vycary, to whom he is handing the charter, but straight before him. The composition is a mere portrait piece, got up for the sake of the portraits. In the whole group of nineteen only, five besides the king wear their beards-Aylef, Symson, Harman, Alcoke, and Fereis. Monforde's, the fifth from the king, is a very expressive face, physicians to the considerably repainted, but full of character. The three on the right- Chamber, Butts, and Alsop--are perhaps so separately placed as physicians to the king.

There is a letter of James I. to the Barber-Surgeons still in their possession. It is written from Newmarket, and dated , requesting the loan of this picture, in order that it should be copied. In Mr. Wornum's opinion this copy is the still to be seen at the in . It was formerly in the possession of Desenfans, and at his sale in was purchased by the Surgeons' Company for guineas. In the picture there is a window at the back instead of the tablet with a long complimentary Latin inscription to Henry VIII. It was probably added after the picture had been injured in the Fire of London, where, from what Pepys says, it may have got injured. The picture was cleaned in . The cleaner sent in a bill for , but eventually took guineas.

Shortly before this picture of Holbein's was finished Henry (who was always murdering or mar-

Prince Albert,

visited this noble Holbein more desire it was sent to Buckingham Palace, and remained there a month; but when the directors of the Manchester Exhibition desired the loan of it they were refused. As doubts were entertained that it would be damaged by remaining in the city, a Royal Commission inspected it, and specimens of colours were hung in the hall for several months, with a view to ascertain whether the atmosphere was unfavourable to them, but no change took place, and Dean Milman, with his coadjutors, expressed their conviction that its removal was not desirable. It is pretended that Henry never sat for any other portrait, and that those of him at

Hampton Court

are merely copies. The other paintings,

well deserve notice.

Two

, certainly, are Vandyke's.

1st

. A wholelength of the Countess of Richmond, in a standing position, resting her right hand upon a lamb. This is a beautiful work of art. The face is expressive of unaffected goodness, and the attitude graceful, without stiffness. She is robed in white satin and so admirably is the fabric imitated that you half believe it may be grasped. There is a copy of this portrait at

Hampton Court

.

2nd

. A likeness of Inigo Jones, very fine, and highly characteristic. Over the entrance to the Hall is a bronzed bust of Jones, which is connected with a

The Barber-Surgeons' Picture.

rather discreditable story. It seems this bust, not many years since, was found in a lumber-closet. It was of white marble, and the sagacious Master of the day gave orders that it should be bronzed. There is a doubtful sketch of a head, as it is thought, of Linnaeus, and by whatever artist painted, its merit is of no common order. Also, portraits of Charles II. and Queen Anne, both benefactors of the Company; of Henry Johnson, a favourite of the Merry Monarch; and of Thomas Lisle, King's barber in

1622

---the latter a most solemn and imposing-looking personage, who might well pass for the Prime Minister. Across the principal entrance there stands a very curious twoleaved screen; originally it had

four

compartments,

two

are lost or have been destroyed. It exhibits the arms

of

the Company, and is elaborately wrought over with innumerable artistic emblems, fruit, flowers, fantastic ornaments, and gilding. Its history is a strange

one

. Once on a time a notable felon was

hanged

and his corpse handed over to the Barber-Surgeons for dissection; the operator, fancying the heart still pulsated, used means for resuscitation, and succeeded. The man was kept hidden for a long while, and then sent abroad at the Company's expense. He ultimately became rich, and in gratitude sent them this screen.

The Company's plate,

includes

a drinking-cup and cover, in silver gilt, the gift of Henry VIII.

, very beautifully chased; a similar cup, in silver, still more elaborately worked, the gift of Charles II. ; a dish, or bowl, very large, with a flowered edge, not remarkable for elegance, the gift of Queen Anne; an oblong dish, with a well centre, said to have been used for lather when people of rank were shaved; and

two

velvet caps, in filagree silver bands, worn on state occasions by the Master and his deputy, they being. privileged by charter to be covered in the presence of the sovereign.

In the reign of James I. the Company, it appears, nearly lost the whole of their plate, through a successful robbery.

The thieves,

were four men of the names of Jones, Lyne, Sames, and Foster, of whom the former confessed his guilt, when, in consequence of information which he gave, the plate was recovered. In the books of the Company for November, 1616, is the following matterof-fact entry recording the fate of the culprits:-- Thomas Jones was taken, who, being brought to Newgate in December following, Jones and Lyne were both executed for this fact. In January following, Sames was taken and executed. In April, Foster was taken and executed, Now, let's pray God to bless this house from any more of these damages. Amen.

The following extract from the Company's papers, under the date of the 13th of July, 1587, is still more curious :-- It is agreed that if any body which shall at any time hereafter happen to be brought to our hall for the intent to be wrought upon by the anatomists of the Company, shall revive or come to life again, as of late hath been seen, the charges about the same body so reviving shall be borne, levied, and sustained by such person or persons who shall so happen to bring home the body; and who, further, shall abide such order or fine as this house shall award. The last instance, it would appear, of recuscitation in a dissecting-room occurred in the latter part of the last century. The case, as used to be related by the late celebrated anatomist, John Hunter, was that of a criminal, whose body had been cut down after execution at Newgate.

This case we have already mentioned.

Lambe's Almshouses stood at the upper end of . The worthy clothworker who built these havens of refuge after life's storms was a gentleman of Henry VIII.'s chapel. These almshouses were on the site of an ancient chapel or hermitage, built in the old city wall, about the time of the early Norman kings, and was partly supported by royal stipend assigned to it in . Soon after it passed into the hands of the Corporation of London, and after the dissolution it was purchased by Lambe.

This benevolent man also built a conduit at Bridge, at a cost of , and gave pails for carrying water to such poor women

as were willing,

to take pains.

Any

New River

water here?

Anthony Munday's account of the perambulation

Boar's head,

and so,

home.

Basinghall Ward consists of alone. The present Bankruptcy Court is on the site of the old mansion of the Basings, of whom , Solomon Basing, was Lord Mayor in the year of Henry III. To his son, Adam, afterwards mayor, Henry III. gave messuages in and , and the advowson of the church at Basing Hall. According to an old tradition, which Stow derides, the house had once been a Jewish synagogue. It passed into the hands of the Bakewells, in the reign of Edward III., and in the reign of Richard II. was sold by the king for to the city, who turned it into a cloth exchange, which it continued till , when the present Bankruptcy Court was erected on its site.. In old times no foreigner was allowed to sell any woollen cloth but in Bakewell Hall. Part of the tolls or hallage was given by Edward VI. to , whose governors superintended the warehouses. It was rebuilt for in , destroyed in the Great Fire of , and re-erected about .

St. Michael's Bassishaw, in this ward, was founded about , rebuilt in , destroyed in the Great Fire, and again rebuilt in by Sir Christopher Wren. Here lies interred Sir John Gresham, uncle to Sir Thomas Gresham.

of the great benefactors of the church, John Burton, mercer, who died his (will was dated ), bequeathed chasubles wrought with gold, in honour of the Passion, to the church of Wadworth, in Yorkshire, and desired his executor to keep the day of his anniversary, otherwise called

yearsmind,

The following is part of an epitaph of an old knight and surgeon, of Henry VIII. and Edward VI.'s reigns:--

In chirurgery brought up in youth, A knight here lieth dead; A knight, and eke a surgeon, such As England seld hath bred.

For which so sovereign gift of God, Wherein he did excel, King Henry VIII. called him to court, Who loved him dearly well.

King Edward, for his service sake, Bade him rise up a knight, A name of praise; and ever since He Sir John Ailife hight, &c.

No less than of the smaller city companies pitched their tents in or near . The Masons' Hall is in Masons' Alley, between and . The Masons, with whom are united the Marblers, were incorporated about as

the Free Masons,

In the year

1589

the ingenious William Lee, Master of Arts, of

St. John's

College, Cambridge, devised this profitable art for stockings (but being despised went to France); yet of iron to himself, but to us and others of gold, in memory of whom this is here painted.

There is a tradition that Lee invented the machine to facilitate the labour of knitting, in consequence of falling in love with a young country girl, who, during his visits, was more attentive to her knitting than to his proposals.

Lee is named as the inventor in a petition of the Framework-knitters or Stocking-makers of London to Cromwell for a charter, which Charles II. subsequently granted.

In this street also stood Coopers' Hall. The banqueting-hall is large and wainscoted.

The Coopers,

were incorporated by Henry VII. in

1501

, and Henry VIII. empowered them to search and to gauge beer, ale, and soapvessels in the city and

two

miles round, at a farthing a cask.

Every-Day Book,

Girdlers' Hall, No. , , was rebuilt after the Great Fire. The Company of Girdle-Makers was incorporated by Henry VI., in , and the charter was confirmed by Elizabeth, and they were subsequently united with the Pinners and Wire-Drawers. In their arms the punning heralds have put a girdle-iron. The Company possesses a document dated , by which Edward IV. confirmed privileges granted to them by Richard II. and Edward III. They had the power to seize all girdles found within the city walls, which were manufactured with spurious silver or copper. The Girdlers still retain quaint old custom of their craft, and that is, at the annual election the clerk of the Company crowns the new master with a silk crown embroidered in gold with the Girdlers' devices, and the lesser officials wear ancient caps, after which the master pledges the company in a goblet of Rhenish wine.

The old Bankruptcy Court in had judges and commissioners; the present has only . The most important changes effected in the bankruptcy laws by the Bankruptcy Act of are as follow:--

In Henry V. built a house for a branch of the Brotherhood of St. Giles, which Henry VIII.) after his manner, eventually suppressed. Sir John Gresham, mayor, afterwards purchased the lands, and gave part of them as a maintenance to a free school which he had founded at Holt, in Norfolk. In this street there is the debtor's prison, now almost disused. It was built in -, from the designs of William Montague, Clerk of the city Works. Warm-hearted [extra_illustrations.2.238.1] , in her will, desired her natural son, the Duke of St. Albans, to lay out a year to release poor debtors out of prison, and this sum was distributed every Christmas Day to the inmates of Prison.

Whitecross Street Prison

,

is divided into six distinct divisions, or wards, respectively called--1, the Middlesex Ward; 2, the Poultry and Giltspur Street Ward; 3, the Ludgate Ward; 4, the Dietary Ward; 5, the Remand Ward; 6, the Female Ward. These wards are quite separate, and no communication is permitted between the inmates of one and another. Before commencing our rounds, we gain, from conversation with the intelligent governor, an item or two of useful preliminary information. The establishment is capable of holding 500 persons. It is, however, very seldom that half that number is confined at one time within its walls. At this period last year it had 147 inmates; the pressure of the times has since considerably increased the sum-total. There are now 205, of which number eight are females. The population of this prison is, moreover, very migratory. Last year there were no less than 1,143 commitments. This shows an advance upon previous years--the result of the operation of the Small Debts Act--a part of the building having been set apart for persons committed under that Act. Many debtors are now sent hither for a fixed term, mostly ten days, at the expiration of which they are discharged. This punishment is principally inflicted for contempt of court. A woman was recently locked up here for ten days, for contempt, because unable, or unwilling, it was difficult to say which, to discharge a debt of sevenpence! In all such cases a more penal discipline is enforced; the person incarcerated is not allowed to maintain him or herself, but is compelled to accept the county allowance.

Round the yard are the lofty walls of the prison, and the general pile of the prison buildings, several storeys high. On one side is a large board, containing a list of the benefactors of this portion of the prison. There are similar benefactions to each ward.; amongst others, one from Nell Gwynne, still periodically distributed in the shape of so many loaves of bread, attracts attention. These donations are, now employed in hiring some of the poorer of the prisoners to make the beds; clean the floors, and do other menial offices for the rest. Passing through a door in the yard, we enter the day-room of this ward. There are benches and tables down the sides, as in some of the cheap coffee-houses in London, and a large fire at the end, at which each man cooks, or has cooked for him, his victuals. On the wall a number of pigeon-holes or small cupboards are placed, each man having the key of one, and keeping therein his bread and butter, tea and coffee, and so forth. These things are all brought in, and no stint is placed upon the quantity consumed. A man may exist in the prison who has been accustomed to good living, though he cannot live well. All kinds of luxuries are prohibited, as are also spirituous drinks. Each man may have a pint of wine a day, but not more; and dice, cards; and all other instruments--for gaming, are strictly vetoed.

Redcross Street derived its name from a cross which stood near the end of , as did from a stone cross, near which ran a watercourse to . Hughson () calls

noble, wide, and well built, inhabited by persons of property.

Sir Thomas More, in his has a curious anecdote about Redcross Street:

And

first

,

to show you that by conjecture he (Richard III.) pretended this thing in his brother's life, you shall understand for a truth that the same night that King Edward dyed,

one

called Mistlebrooke, long ere the day sprung, came to the house of

one

Pottier, dwelling in Red Crosse Street, without Cripplegate, of London; and when he was, with hasty rapping, quickly let in, the said Mistlebrooke showed unto Pottier that King Edward was that night deceased.

By my troth,

quoth Pottier,

then will my master, the Duke of Gloucester, be king, and that I warrant thee!

What cause he had so to think, hard it is to say, whether he being his servant, knew any such thing pretended, or otherwise had any inkling

Barber-Surgeons' Hall (1800).

thereof, but of all likelihood he spake it not of ought.

The old Grub Street, the haunt of poor authors, the mosquitoes who tormented Pope, and the humble drudges with whom Dr. Johnson argued and perambulated in his struggling days, has now changed its name to . This absurd transition from Lazarus to Dives, from the dunghill to the palace, originated in the illogical remembrance of some opaque-headed Government official that Milton died at his house in the Artillery Walk, Bunhill Fields, adjoining to which place he had removed soon after his marriage. The direct association of Pope's Grub Street poets was surely better than the very indirect association of Grub Street with the sacred name of Milton; but officials are like that. Here poor hacks of weak will and mistaken ambition sat up in bed, with blankets skewered round them, and, encouraged by gin, scribbled epics and lampoons, and fulsome dedications to purse-proud patrons. Here poor men of genius, misled by Pleasure's , repented too late their misused hours, and, by the flickering rush. light, desperately endeavoured to retrieve the loss of opportunities by satires on ministers, or ribald

Stow describes Grub Street, in Elizabethan times, as having been inhabited by bowyers, fletchers (arrow-makers), and bow-string makers, who sup-

the name of a street in London much inhabited by writers of small histories, dictionaries, and temporary poems; whence any mean production is called Grub Street.

was the title of a publication commenced . Its object was to satirise unsparingly the personages of the and the productions of Cibber, Curll, Dennis, &c. It was continued weekly, till the end of . The reputed editors were Dr. Martyn, a Cambridge Professor of Botany, and Dr. Richard Russell, who wrote of the earliest treatises on the beneficial use of salt water.

Warburton seems prophetically to have

nothing but a Grub Street critic run to seed.

During the usurpation a prodigious number of seditious and libellous pamphlets and papers, tending to exasperate the people and increase the confusion in which the nation was involved, were from time to time published. The authors of these were for the most part men whose indigent circumstances compelled them to live in the suburbs and most obscure parts of the town. Grub Street then abounded with mean old houses, which were let out in lodgings, at low rents, to persons of this description, whose occupation was in publishing anonymous treason and slander.

One

of the original inhabitants of this street was Foxe, the martyrologist.

will utterly ruin Grub Street.

Mr. Hoole, the translator of Tasso, told Dr. Johnson, on occasion, says Boswell, that

he was born in Moorfields, and had received part of his early instruction in Grub Street. Sir, said Johnson, smiling, you have been regularly educated. Having asked who was his instructor, and Mr. Hoole having answered, My uncle, sir, who was a tailor, Johnson, recollecting himself, said, Sir, I knew him; we called him the metaphysical tailor. He was of a club in Old Street, with me and George Psalmanazar, and some others; but pray, sir, was he a good tailor? Mr. Hoole having answered that he believed he was too mathematical, and used to draw squares and triangles on his shopboard, so that he did not excel in the cut of a coat. I am sorry for it, said Johnson, for I would have every man to be master of his own business.

In pleasant reference to himself and Mr. Hoole, as brother authors, Johnson often said to a friend, Let you and I, sir, go together, and eat a beefsteak in Grub Street.

A remarkable seclusion from the world took place in Grub Street, in the person of [extra_illustrations.2.242.1] . This gentleman was a native of Lincolnshire, where he had an estate of above per annum. He possessed in an eminent degree the qualifications of a gentleman. Having been a competent time at the university and the inns of court, he completed his education by making the tour of Europe. He was happy in the love and esteem of all that knew him, on account of his many acts of humanity, benevolence, and charity. When he was about years of age, it is said that his brother (though another account makes it merely a ), an abandoned profligate, made an attempt upon his life with a pistol. It missed fire, and Welby, wresting it from the villain's hand, found it charged with bullets. Hence he formed the resolution of retiring from the world; and taking a house in this street, he reserved rooms for himself--the for his diet, the for his lodging, and the for his study. In these he kept himself so closely retired, that for years he was never seen by any human creature, except an old female servant that attended him, and who was only permitted to see him in some cases of great necessity. His diet was constantly bread, oatmeal, water-gruel, milk, and vegetables, and as a great indulgence, the yolk of an egg, but no part of the white.

The hermit of Grub Street bought all the new books that were published, most of which, upon a slight examination, he rejected. His time was spent in reading, meditation, and prayer. No Carthusian monk was ever more rigid in his abstinence. His plain garb, his long and silver beard, his mortified and venerable aspect, bespoke him an ancient inhabitant of the desert, rather than a gentleman of fortune in a populous city. He expended a great part of his income in acts of charity, and was very inquisitive after proper objects. He died October , in the eightyfourth year of his age, and was buried in , Cripplegate. The old servant died not above days before her master. He had a very amiable daughter, who married Sir Christopher Hildyard, a gentleman of Yorkshire; but neither she nor any of her family ever saw her father after his retirement.

A very grand old house in Hanover Yard, near Grub Street, was sketched by J. T. Smith, in . It was called by the neighbours [extra_illustrations.2.243.1]  On of the old water-spouts was the date, . The lead on the roof was of enormous thickness, the staircase spacious and heavy. The large rooms had ornamented plaster ceilings, and of the -floor wainscotings was richly carved with flowers. But the great feature of the old mansion, after all, was the porch, a deep gable-ended structure, supported by stately Ionic pillars, and in the centre of the pediments a lion looking out. The windows were wide and latticed. There is, however, no proof that General Monk ever resided in the house. When the trimming general returned from Scotland, he took up his headquarters at ; and on the refractory citizens refusing the demanded by the Parliament, Monk marched into the city, destroyed the portcullises, and drew up his soldiers

In Sweedon's Passage, Grub Street, Mr. Smith also discovered an extremely old house, which, according to tradition, had been inhabited by both Whittington and Gresham. It was part of houses which had occupied the site of an older mansion. The lower portions of the chimneys were of stone, the timber was oak and chestnut, and the ceilings were ornamented. There was a descent of feet into the parlour from the outer street. This house possessed a great curiosityan external staircase, which stood out like a rickety tower of timber and plaster, and was covered with a slanting projecting wooden roof. In an adjacent house was an oriel window, and in the street there ran a long line of lattices, once covered with the relics of a ruined penthouse.

, near , was so called, says Stow, vaguely, of

Coleman, the

first

builder and owner thereof,

Star,

Counsel.Mr. Gunter, what can you say concerning meeting and consultation at the Star, in Coleman Street?

Gunter.My lord, I was a servant at the Star, in Coleman Street, with one Mr. Hildesley. That house was a house where Oliver Cromwell, and several of that party, did use to meet in consultation. They had several meetings; I do remember very well one amongst the rest, in particular, that Mr. Peters was there; he came in the afternoon, about four o'clock, and was there till ten or eleven at night. I, being but a drawer, could not hear much of their discourse, but the subject was tending towards the king, after he was a prisoner, for they called him by the name of Charles Stuart.

I heard not much of the discourse; they were writing, but what I know not, but I guessed it to be something drawn up against the king. I perceived that Mr. Peters was privy to it, and pleasant in the company.

The Court.How old were you at that time?

Gunter.I am now thirty years the last Bartholomew Day, and this was in 1648.

The Court.How long before the king was put to death?

Gunter.A good while. It was suddenly, as I remember, three days before Oliver Cromwell went out of town.

Peters.I was never there but once with Mr. Nathaniel Fiennes.

Counsel.Was Cromwell there?

Gunter.Yes.

Counsel.Was Mr. Peters there oftener than once?

Gunter.I know not, but once I am certain of it; this is the gentleman, for then he wore a great sword.

Peters.I never wore a great sword in my life.

The street had been a loyal street to the Puritan party, for it was here that, in , the members accused of treason by Charles I. took refuge, when he rashly attempted to arrest them in Parliament.

And that people might not believe,

that there was any dejection of mind or sorrow, for what was done, the same night the same council caused a proclamation to be prepared for the stopping the ports, that the accused persons might not escape out of the kingdom, and to forbid all persons to receive and harbour them, when it was well known that they were all together in a house in the city, without any fear of their security. And all this was done without the least communication with anybody but the Lord Digby, who advised it; and it is very true, was so willing to take the utmost hazard upon himself, that he did offer the king, when he knew in what house they were together, with a select company of gentlemen who would accompany him, whereof Sir Thomas Lunsford was one, to seize upon them and bring them away alive, or leave them dead in the place; but the king liked not such enterprises.

That night the persons accused removed themselves into their stronghold, the city; not that they durst not venture themselves at their old lodgings, for no man would have presumed to trouble them, but that the city might see that they relied upon that place for a sanctuary of their privileges against violence and oppression, and so might put on an early concernment for them. And they were not disappointed; for, in spite of all the Lord Mayor could do to compose their distempers (who like a very wise and stout magistrate bestirred himself), the city was that whole night in arms, some people designed to that purpose running from one gate to another, and crying out that the Cavaliers were coming to fire the city, and some saying that the king himself was in the head of them.

The next morning Charles himself came in search of the five members. He told one of the sheriffs (who was of the two thought less inclined to his service) that he would dine with him. He then departed without that applause and cheerfulness which he might have expected from the extraordinary grace he vouchsafed to them; and in his passage, through the city, the rude people flocked together, crying out, Privilege of Parliament! privilege of Parliament! some of them pressing very near his own coach, and amongst the rest one calling out with a very loud voice, To your tents, O Israel! However, the king, though much mortified, continued his resolution, taking little notice of the distempers; and, having dined at the sheriff's, returned in the afternoon to Whitehall, and published the next day a proclamation for the apprehension of all those whom he accused of high treason, forbidding any person to harbour them, the articles of their charge being likewise printed and dispersed.

At No. , Great , now , [extra_illustrations.2.244.1] , the shoemaker poet, followed his calling. The poet's father was a poor tailor in Suffolk, and his mother kept a little school in which her own children were the chief pupils. Being too delicate to follow the plough, Bloomfield was sent to London to his elder brother George, to learn shoemaking. There, penned up in a garret with or other lads, who paid a shilling each for their lodging, Bloomfield wrote of which, in years, copies were sold, besides French, German, Italian, and Latin translations. The Duke of Grafton then kindly assigned him a pension of a shilling a day, and gave him a small post in the Seal Office. Compelled by ill-health to resign this situation, Bloomfield returned to the manufacture of ladies' shoes, became involved in debt, and died worn out and nearly insane in . Taylor, the waterpoet, describes the Cambridge carriers as lodging in his time at the

Bell,

Cowley, in his pleasant comedy of , admirably sketches the tricks of the old broken-down Cavaliers after the Restoration, who had to practise all their arts to obtain a dinner, and who, days out of , had to feast with Duke Humphrey, and flourish a toothpick, while all the while struggling with that unruly member, an empty stomach.

Jolly. (A gentleman whose estate was confiscated in the late troubles.) Ye shall no more make monstrous tales from Bruges, to revive your sinking credits in loyal ale-houses, nor inveigle into taverns young foremen of the shop, or little beardless blades of the Inns of Court, to drink to the royal family parabolically, and with bouncing oathes like cannon t every health; nor upon unlucky failing afternoons take melancholy turns in the Temple walks, and when you meet acquaintance cry, You wonder why your lawyer stays so long, with a hang to him!

Worm.(Cutters companion, and of much the same character.)They call him Colonel Cutter, but to deal faithfully with you, madam, he is no more a colonel than you're a major-general.

Cutter.(A merry, sharking fellow about town--entering.) Ha! Sure I mistake the rogue!

Wor. He never serv'd his king--not he!--no more than he does his Maker. 'Tis true he's drunk his health as often as any man, upon other men's charges, and he was for a little while, I think, a kind of Hector till he was soundly beaten one day, and dragg'd about the room, like old Hector o' Troy about the town.

Cut. What does this dog mean, trow?

Wor. Once, indeed, he was very low--for almost a twelvemonth-and had neither money enough to hire a barber nor buy scissors, and then he wore a beard (he said) for King Charles. He's now in pretty good clothes, but would you saw the furniture of his chamber! Marry, half a chair, an earthen pot without an ear, and the bottom of an ink-horn for a candlestick; the rest is broken foul tobacco-pipes, and a dozen o' gally-pots, with salve in 'em.

Cut. Was there ever such a cursed villain!

Wor He's been a known cheat about town these twenty years.

It was in a conventicle, hidden away in , on the east side of , that that dangerous fanatic Venner, a wine-cooper and Millenarian (already alluded to in our chapter on , ), preached to

the soldiers of King Jesus,

John Goodwin, a Puritan religious writer who promoted the condemnation of Charles I., was, in , presented to the living of , . He it was who had intruded himself on the king the day before his execution, and offered to pray with him. The king thanked him, but said he had chosen Dr. Juxon, whom he knew. Fearing the gallows after the Restoration, his pamphlet defending the sentence passed on the king having been burnt by the public hangman, Goodwin fled, but afterwards returned and opened a private conventicle in , where he died, .

Goodwin, whose hand was against every man, was much belaboured by John Vicars, an usher of , a man even more violent and intolerant than himself. The title of of Vicars's works will be sufficient to show his command of theological .

Coleman Street

conclave visited, and that grand impostor, the schismatic's cheater-in-chief (who hath long slily lurked therein), truly and duly discovered; containing a most palpable and plain display of Mr. John Goodwin's self-conviction under his own handwriting), and of the notorious heresies, errors, malice, pride, and hypocrisy of this most huge Garagantua, in falsely-pretended

piety, to the lamentable misleading of his too-too credulous soul-murdered proselytes of

Coleman Street

and elsewhere; collected principally out of his own big-bragadochio and wave-like-swelling, and swaggering writings, full-fraught with

six

-footed terms, and flashie rhetorical phrases, far more than solid and sacred truths. And may fitly serve (if it be the Lord's will), like Belshazzar's handwriting, on the wall of his conscience, to strike terror and shame into his own soul and shameless face, and to undeceive his most miserably cheated and inchanted or bewitched followers.

, , can boast some antiquity if it can boast no beauty, since between the years and the Dean and Chapter of granted both this building and , Jewry, to which it was appended as a chapel, to the prior and abbot of Butley in Suffolk. It is said by Stow to have been a synagogue, then a parish church, and lastly a chapel to , in which vassalage it continued till the of Edward IV., when it was again chosen to reign over a parish of its own. It was destroyed by the Great Fire, and meanly rebuilt by Wren in . The monuments, with few exceptions, are uninteresting. There is to John Taylor, a haberdasher, who left to be lent to young haberdashers, and a week in bread to be distributed for ever on Sundays to poor householders; and here lies the only hero of tombs, good old Anthony Munday, the continuator of Stow, who died in , after much industrious study of the London records, and years' honest labour at city shows and pageants. There is a certain friendly fervour about his epitaph, as if some city laureate had written it to pin to his hearse.

To the Memory of that ancient Servant to the city, with His Pen, in Divers Imployments, especially the Survey of London, Master Anthony Munday, citizen and Draper of London

He that hath many an ancient tombstone read, (I' th' labour seeming more among the dead To live, than with the living), that survaid Abstruse antiquities, and o'er them laid. Such vive and beauteous colors with his pen, That (spite of Time) those old are new again. Under this marble lies interr'd, his tombe Claiming (as worthily it may) this roome, Among those many monuments his quill Has so reviv'd, helping now to fill A place (with those) in his survey; in which He has monument, more fair, more rich Than polisht stones could make him where he lies, Though dead, still living, and in that ne'er dyes.

The entrance gateway of has [extra_illustrations.2.245.1] ; the clouds are as round and heavy as puddings, and the whole is inferior to the treatment of the same subject at St. Giles's-in-the-Fields. Of this parish, according to Defoe's romance, John Hayward was under-sexton during the Great Plague. He carried all the parish dead to the Plague-pit, and drove their bodies in the dead-cart, yet he never caught the disease, and lived years after. Among the modern monuments at is a marble bas-relief, by E. W. Wyat, erected in , to the Rev. Josiah Pratt, vicar of the parish, whose active missionary labours are personified by an angel addressing an African, a Hindoo, and a New Zealander.

The fine building with a Doric portico situated at the north-east corner of is the Armourers' and Braziers' Hall. It stands on the site of the old hall of the Company, incorporated at the beginning of the reign of Henry VI., in . The Armourers' function is now rather obsolete, but the hall is still decorated with coats of arms, and there is a fine gilt suit at the Tower, which was given by the Company to Charles I., when a gay young prince, with his narrow head firm on. In the Banqueting Hall is of Northcote's vapid but ambitious pictures, purchased by the Company from Boydell's Shakespeare Gallery, in . How the spiteful, shrewd little painter would writhe could he hear the opinions of critical visitors!

[extra_illustrations.2.229.1] The gate

[extra_illustrations.2.230.1] The church of St. Giles's, Cripplegate

[extra_illustrations.2.230.2] His marble monument

[extra_illustrations.2.230.3] Sir Martin Frobisher

[extra_illustrations.2.232.1] Porch of St. Alphage

[extra_illustrations.2.232.2] The first Barber-Surgeons' Hall

[extra_illustrations.2.232.3] The quaint old wooden doorway

[extra_illustrations.2.233.1] Barber-Surgeons' Hall: Admission of New Members

[extra_illustrations.2.238.1] Nell Gwynne

[extra_illustrations.2.242.1] Henry Welby, Esq

[extra_illustrations.2.243.1] General Monk's House.

[extra_illustrations.2.244.1] Robert Bloomfield

[extra_illustrations.2.245.1] a rude alto-relievo of the Last Judgment