A History of London, Vol. I

Loftie, W. J.

1883

CHAPTER X. Shakespeare'S LONDON.

CHAPTER X. Shakespeare'S LONDON.

 

 

FROM the accession of . a change comes over our city annals. The civic constitution was now settled. The outermost ring of suburbs had been enclosed. The last touches had been put to the fabric over which rival aldermen and common councillors had contended for centuries. The city had become venerable. Her citizens had begun "to think upon her stones." The repair of the Roman wall, carried out in , is one of the first examples of the modern idea of " restoration," namely, a falsification of the history of a building. The first of the long series of London antiquaries, the first dramatist who was to illustrate her history, her people, her streets, for readers of all generations, were not yet born, but their time was drawing very nigh, and the printing-press was already at work. Fortunately for us, the old associations had begun to be studied before and the Fire came to obliterate them. Stow has made the stage and painted the scenery, and has put in the figures. The antiquary conducts us through the narrow lanes, among the crumbling courts, under the overhanging gables, into falling priories and empty aisles. The dramatist sets Henry before us marching to Agincourt; he makes Richard plot in Crosby Place; Nym and Bardolph carouse for him in Eastcheap; at "a hall in " the two cardinals sit under the king as

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judges. Even when lays his scene in Illyria, or at Verona or Messina, the watchmen are from the London streets, the palaces are London houses, Dogberry himself is a tradesman upon Cornhill. In writing the plays which relate to London in those times, he could speak of what was actually before his eyes. The Wars of the Roses were not more remote from him, than the Scots' rebellion is from us. He stood, with respect to the sad story of Henry VI., nearly as we stand to that of . London had not altered so much since Gascoigne, and Falstaff, and Dame Quickly walked the streets, as it has now since the Gordon riots. saw it as Stow, who was his contemporary, saw it. It is more than probable that the antiquary[1]  often passed before his eyes, " tall of stature, lean of body and face, his eyes small and crystalline," yet sober, mild, and "courteous to any that required his instructions." He may have seen at the Mermaid, and recognised his genius. Stow knew Ben Jonson well, who says of him that he had monstrous observation. He jested with poverty, being "of his craft a tailor." He always went about on foot, and travelled "to divers cathedral churches, and other chief places of the land, to search records." Yet he was merry, as was , and made epigrams. One of them is on the size of Sir Christopher Hatton's tomb, and the absence of any memorial of Philip Sidney and Francis Walsingham. He " annal'd for ungrateful men," and died at eighty, no richer than he had lived. Of 's personal history, we hardly know as much as we do of Stow's. But the few meagre facts that have been gleaned about him chiefly relate to

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London. [2]  His rare signature appears to a London lease. His brother's monument is in St. Saviour's Church. His theatre was at "the Gloabe on the Banckeside," a not very reputable locality. He owned a house in called the Boar's Head. He alludes to Whitefriars in his play of ' .,' and mentions London Stone in 'Henry VI.' A letter was addressed to him in Carter Lane, the main thoroughfare to Ludgate, where he lodged at the Bell. He bought a house near Puddle Dock, in , in . The Mermaid, in Cheapside, has long disappeared, but there can be no doubt of its site in the block of buildings between Friday Street and Bread Street, with an entrance from each side. His plays were published in St. Paul's Churchyard, at the "Signe of the Floure de Leuse and the Crown," or at the Green Dragon, or at " the Foxe," and some of them in Fleet Street, "under the diall" of St. Dunstan's Church.

What London was like then, we may gather from a third source. Norden was born of a good family, in Wiltshire, about . [3]  He was therefore, the contemporary of both Stow and . He lived chiefly at Hendon, in , and was employed as a land surveyor. His accounts of Hertfordshire and of were part of a projected work, which he never completed. His map of London was drawn in . There had been previous maps of the kind, bird's-eye

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views, in fact, such as that of Ralph Agas, which is believed to have been made about , but the earliest copy known was printed after the accession of . There is also a small view-map in Braun and Hohenberg's 'Cities of the World,' which must have been drawn before , as it shows the steeple of St. Paul's, burnt in that year. The first, however, on which full reliance can be placed, is Norden's, which represents the city only, at a definite date, I593. We see in it both Holborn Bridge and Fleet Bridge: Moorfields had been lately drained, but were not built over. The old hospital still stands in Spitalfields. St. Clare's Nunnery is outside Aldate. House, or Leicester House, is outside the Temple. Burbage's Theatre was placed in [4]  when the map was three years old. Close by, Baynard's Castle with its gables still remained as it was when Cicely, duchess of, the "proud" mother of ., had lived in it when she visited London. Another great mansion may also be identified. This is Pulteney's, or Pountney's Inn, also called Cold Harbour, which has already been mentioned. . gave it to the Heralds, whom he had incorporated, but after the battle of Bosworth it was occupied by the mother of the new king.[5] 

With Stow and Norden, 's London should be sufficiently familiar to us. By 's London I do not mean only the London in which the great dramatist moved; but that of which, having the scene before him, he wrote, and in which his characters had

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moved. To a mind like his, the actual scene of a great event must have been a direct incentive to clearness of description; just as we could realise the burial of queen Anne and queen Katharine, and so make a step towards realising their execution, when we saw the actual ground in which they were so carelessly laid, with its broken pavement as if but just disturbed. When we go now to the chapel of St. Peter, and see the gaudy and vulgar tiles and a royal or noble name neatly worked into an encaustic border, we experience no emotion whatever, unless it be one of anger. But in 's lifetime London was very much as it had been left by the wars of and . He could see the roses growing in the Temple Gardens, with the gabled buildings round them, which successive treasurers have since been so busy removing. He could traverse Cheap on the pathways overhung by the rapidly multiplying houses of Cheapside. He could walk in the long nave of " Powles" and listen to the distant music of the reinstated organist. He must have known many people who had seen[6]  heretics burnt in Smithfield.[7]  He may have been present when the heads of dukes and lords fell on the scaffold at Tower Hill. Therefore, to take up the thread of the narrative of the city history from the death of Henry VI., we proceed to describe the final tragedy of the old royal line, the fall of the Church which had so completely overshadowed the city, the acclamations which greeted the young , and when had become an " occidental star," the rising of the clouded days of the Stuarts. We are here chiefly concerned with the scenes which were constantly nearest his own

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mind as he turned over the pages of the black-letter chronicle of Holinshed-then among the newer books of the day. [8] Much that noticed is chiefly interesting now because he noticed it.

The popularity which . had obtained in the city remained with him until his death. The extension of trade, in which the king himself took part, brought great wealth to London. I have spoken of the English colony at Bruges, which owed its establishment to the Yorkist alliance with Burgundy. The military ability of Edward was equalled by his commercial enterprise. His cruelty on the battlefield was well balanced by his love of luxury. He wrought sad havoc, unless he is much belied by his contemporaries, in the hearts of the citizens' wives; but as his policy filled their coffers much was forgiven him. When William Harcourt was mayor in , the king made a great entertainment in Waltham Forest to the members of the corporation. After many deer had been hunted and killed, the citizens were feasted in a stately arbour erected for the purpose. The same year Edward sent, as a present to the mayoress and the wives of the principal citizens, two harts, six bucks, and a tun of wine. When he died, in April, , there was great lamentation in London; and though, shortly afterwards, his favourite, Jane Shore, was made to do penance before the people, it is recorded that "more pitied her penance than rejoiced therein." [9] 

Sir Edmund Shaw [10] . was mayor when Edward died; and Richard, seeing that the best chance of success in

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his schemes lay in obtaining the favour of the city, had him sworn of the privy council; and engaged his brother, Dr. Shaw, a famous preacher, to "break the matter in a sermon " at St. Paul's Cross. In this discourse Shaw hesitated at nothing. He not only accused the late king of bigamy, but the duchess of, his mother-" proud Cis" herself-of adultery; and proceeded to describe the duke of Gloucester as the perfect image of his illustrious father. At this point in Shaw's peroration Gloucester had arranged to appear in the background, perhaps coming up through Dean's Yard from Baynard's Castle, perhaps along Cheapside from Crosby Place,[11]  which he then rented. But by some mistake, Shaw had finished the passage before the duke appeared, and he ruined its effect by a repetition. The people had been expected to cheer the duke, but they maintained an obstinate silence. Next day an assembly, consisting of the mayor, aldermen, and principal citizens, was called in the Guildhall. Buckingham made them a speech, recapitulating a few cases of oppression and heavy taxation under the late reign, and referring to Shaw's sermon as if he had proved the truth of his various allegations regarding Edward and his mother. He next dwelt upon the dangers to the realm of having a boy-king, and ended by calling upon the citizens to offer the crown to Richard. Again there was obstinate silence; and Buckingham had to try a second speech. Even then no response was heard. The recorder, Fitzwilliam, at the mayor's command, also spoke in the same sense, but without avail. Buckingham then informed

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the citizens that the "lords and commons" would have determined the matter without them, but wished to have the city with them; and would expect an answer one way or other on the morrow.

The prescriptive right of London to elect the king was thus partially allowed. The great importance which Richard's party attached to an election by the citizens is a very interesting feature in the story; and when we remember that . had been similarly chosen, we can the better understand Buckingham's anxiety. At last some of the protector's servants, and some of the duke's, raised a shout at the further end of the hall, calling for king Richard, and throwing their caps into the air. This was enough, as no formal opposition was offered. Buckingham assumed the unanimity of the assembly, and invited them to accompany him on the morrow to lay the crown at Richard's feet.

The mayor, accordingly, with the chief citizens, put on their best apparel, and repaired to Baynard's Castle, where the protector was lodging in the house of the mother whom he had allowed to be so basely defamed.[12]  He probably thought that if things took an unfavourable turn it would be well to be near the water's edge, instead of at Crosby Place, where he might have been more easily hemmed in. He affected great reluctance, obliging the citizens to send twice before he would admit them, and giving Buckingham the opportunity of pointing out that he did not expect them. But once he had accepted the offer, he did not long delay, and made his way immediately to , going thither, no doubt, by water, and took his seat on the throne.

The mention of Crosby Place in this narrative may justify a brief digression. Baynard's Castle has wholly

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disappeared, though was probably as familiar with the one as the other. Of Crosby very considerable remains still exist, though the house has passed through some strange vicissitudes, and experienced some very narrow escapes. Of the adjoining priory only the "nuns' aisle" in the parish church of St. Helen, with its window looking towards the altar from the crypt, [13] now remains. When was an inhabitant of the parish,[14]  he saw it as it was left at the suppression, only that here and there the lead was torn from the roof, here and there a wall was battered down, and the pleasant gardens, of which three at least had belonged to the nuns, were untrimmed and neglected. Great St. Helen's must have presented a singularly picturesque appearance to him as he entered from the street of . On his left were the priory buildings, low, straggling, and irregular, with trees rising in many places above the roofs. On his right was Crosby Place, with its long row of gothic windows looking on the churchyard, and its lofty hall towering behind. In the midst was the church, overshadowed and "half hidden by the foliage." [15] 

The church of St. Helen stood here before the priory was founded, for between [16]  it was given to St. Paul's by one Ranulf, and Robert, his son. It is the only church of St. Helen in London, and seems to have been connected in some way with, since Ranulf stipulated for the keeping in it of the anniversary

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of the great archbishop Thurstan, who had died in .[17]  Half a century later [18]  the priory was founded by William Fitzwilliam, a goldsmith, who obtained the advowson of the church, and gave it to the prioress. The nuns seem to have stood in the same relation to the dean and chapter of St. Paul's as the nuns of Kilburn to St. Peter's, ; and one of the deans, Robert Kentwood, knowing, or suspecting, that things were not always conducted as they should be by the ladies of St. Helen's, issued a series of regulations, from which it is evident that he had cause for displeasure.[19]  He enjoins morning and evening service, and silence in chapel. He forbids the admission of any but nuns to the dormitory. He expresses anxiety as to the character of the portress: she should be " some sad woman and discreet." The presence of lodgers in the house is discouraged. That it was necessary to make these provisions for the good behaviour of the nuns is very evident from several parts of the document. One sentence is especially curious as giving us a somewhat novel idea of female monastic life in the fifteenth century: " Also we enjoin you that all dancing and revelling be utterly forborn among you, except Christmas and other honest times of recreation among yourselves, used in absence of seculars in all wise." This injunction has no meaning if it does not tell us that the prioress and her nuns were in the habit occasionally of giving balls, and of admitting the laity to them. [20] 

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The ground south of the church was leased for 99 years by the prioress, Alice Ashfeld, to Sir John Crosby in . He must have hurried on his building operations considerably if they were completed in his lifetime, as he only survived nine years, if so long, for his will was proved in February, . His rent amounted to 11£. 6s. 8d., and though he had no freehold, he seems to have been certain of a long tenure. The house must have been one of the most magnificent in London. Even yet, the hall, now a public dining-room, is a marvel of beauty. The carved oak roof rivals that of Eltham, while the building is in far better repair. The tall oriel illuminates the luncheons of bank clerks, and shines on any one, however humble, who can afford to sit near it; but it must have given light in its time to assemblies beside which even the famous coteries of Holland House are as nothing. Here "Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother," must have entertained Ben Jonson, and may have entertained . Fifty years before Crosby had belonged to Sir Thomas More. Colet and all the great men who gathered round the witty chancellor, must therefore have been here, but not Erasmus, who had left England.[21]  More's last letter, written from the Tower with a coal, the night before his death, was addressed to his friend Bonvisi, who had succeeded him

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in Crosby Place. It is but too easy to multiply names, and the few I have mentioned must suffice. St. Helen's Church has been called, not without reason,[22]  the of the city, and we may go further and say, in the same proportion, Crosby Place is its It is the central feature in 's London.

Six days after Bosworth, Henry of Richmond entered the city in triumph. This was in August, and he was received by the mayor, Thomas Hill, and the sheriffs and aldermen, with great pomp, and conveyed to St. Paul's, where he offered the standards he had captured, and took up his abode in the palace of the bishop close by. His coronation followed at at the end of October, but meanwhile a terrible calamity had befallen the city. "This year," says the chronicler,[23]  "was a great death and hasty, called sweating sickness." The mayor died and was succeeded by William Stocker. Six aldermen shared Hill's fate, and Stocker had only enjoyed his new dignity for three days when he followed his predecessor to the tomb. A third mayor was chosen in John Ward, who, whether he was a candidate at Michaelmas or had died in the meantime, only held the mayoralty till the annual election, and was succeeded by Hugh Brice, an Irishman. Thus London, in the short space of a single month, saw four different mayors at the Guildhall.[24] 

The reign of . commenced with an incident very noteworthy in the city annals. The new king invented a national debt. He borrowed 3000 marks, and

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probably to the surprise of the lenders, he repaid it at the appointed time. This judicious conduct enabled him a few years later, in , to obtain 6000£. without any trouble, and it would have been better for his popularity if he had continued to borrow and had occasionally paid. But in he extorted a so-called benevolence, and saying that he who paid most should be esteemed his best friend, he made all his enemies. The conduct of Empson and Dudley, his extortionate agents, is well known. It was signalised in London by the fine of 2700£., which they imposed on Sir William Capel, an alderman, for some imaginary infringement of a forgotten law, but which, by the intercession of powerful friends, was eventually reduced a half, though not till he had been committed to the custody of the sheriff. He was marked down for future spoliation: and the king, though on one occasion, in a sudden fit of liberality, he released all the debtors in London who owed forty shillings and under, permitted the prosecution of Thomas Kneesworth for some abuse when he had been mayor two years before, and sent Shaw and Groves, who had been his sheriffs, to the Marshalsea. Heavy fines only obtained their release. When Christopher Haws, an alderman, was apprehended on some imaginary charge, "being a timorous man," it killed him: and in , when the king went so far as to depose one of the sheriffs, Johnson by name, and to put William Fitzwilliam [25] in his place, " the other," we read, "[26]  took such a thought that he died." Capel was made of stouter stuff, and when a year later Empson and Dudley prosecuted

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him for having allowed the escape of some coiners at the time of his mayoralty, he absolutely refused to pay the fine of 2000£. imposed on him, and went cheerfully to prison, first to the Compter, [27] and afterwards to the Tower, where he remained till Henry's death in .

Much more serious crimes than any Haws or Capel had committed were condoned for a money payment. The rebels under Lord Audley threatened London from Blackheath in , and when the citizens had armed themselves and had repaired their fortifications, the king led them against the rebels, who were signally defeated. A few, including the leaders, were put to death: but the rest compounded for their lives at the rate of two or three shillings each. Even Perkin Warbeck was not hanged till he had made two attempts to escape from the Tower. In this respect Henry's reign is in strong contrast to the reigns of the succeeding monarchs of his family. But he was not on that account the more popular with the citizens, on whom he forced a new charter, at the price of 5000 marks, to be paid by instalments, which merely recapitulated some of the privileges already granted by former kings.

The young king, ., when he succeeded his father in , was not yet the husband of the princess Katharine, but on the occasion of their marriage, a procession passed from the Tower to , which must have shown the citizens, in its lavish display, how different was their new king from his father. The western end of Cheapside, which was known as Goldsmiths' Row, from the number of shops belonging to that craft, was hung with gold brocade: and the civic dignitaries took a prominent part in the day's pomp.

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Henry was immensely popular, and contrived to retain his popularity in the city to the end of his long reign. While he was still young he came freely among the citizens: he saw the watch march through the streets in state on St. John's eve, and joined the May games on Shooter's Hill. But one of his very first acts had been to fling Empson and Dudley into the Tower, and when, in the course of the following year, they were both attainted by parliament, they were immediately handed over to the headsman, and their agents in extortion were about the same time marched in mock procession through the city, riding backwards, to the pillory.

The inclination to severity and the disregard of human life which marked Henry's later years had not yet been displayed. On the contrary, he seemed to delight in the exercise of the royal prerogative of pardon. On " Evil May Day," as it was called, a foolish demonstration against foreign merchants was turned by an injudicious alderman into a riot. The apprentices had been excited by a sermon preached by a certain Dr. Bell, and the same day Alderman John Mundy, finding some young men playing at single-stick in Cheap ordered one of them into custody. A rescue was attempted. The Compter was broken open, the foreign houses were plundered, many people on both sides were hurt, and finally prison was assailed and some rioters who had been arrested and shut up were set at liberty. To add to the confusion, the Lieutenant of the Tower, Sir Roger Chomeley, fired off his guns, and by daylight next morning all the suburbs were pouring soldiers into the city. The lord prior of Clerkenwell came with his knights. The duke of Norfolk summoned his guardsmen. The Inns of Court sent their volunteer students. In short, such a riot has seldom been stirred up in a

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single night, or so much alarm awakened with so little known cause. Dr. Bell was sent to the Tower, where his punning device may still be seen carved-" A Bell " -on the wall of a dungeon.[28]  A special commission sat at the Guildhall to try the rioters. An immense number were condemned, and gallows were set up at the principal gates and in other places. Thirteen only were hanged, and the rest, to the number of 400, including 11 women, were brought with ropes about their necks to , where they were formally pardoned by the king, cardinal Wolsey exhorting them to loyalty and obedience.

It is not easy to understand the political significance of this event. Evil May Day is referred to long afterwards in many city documents. Ostensibly the demonstration was against French workmen and merchants, and especially against one Mewtas or Mottas, of whom the ' chronicler says that he "was an outlandish man " whom they would have slain had he not "hid him in the gutters in his house." Ten years later, Seymour, who had been sheriff during the riot, was a candidate for the mayoralty, but was objected to by the commons on account of his share in the severities which followed, and was only elected after violent opposition.[29] 

In these early years of Henry's reign the city was agitated by another event. The unpopularity of the clergy was becoming greater every year, though no stop

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was put to the increase of chantries and other ecclesiastical foundations. An innumerable multitude of clergy, secular and regular, of mass priests, monks, friars, singers, and preachers, pervaded the city. The nunneries were crowded. Twenty-seven minoresses died of a plague in one year at .[30]  The difficulty of keeping order must have been greatly increased by the comparative immunity of religious people. Colet, the friend of More, of Erasmus, of Warham, of all who were good and learned, in short, and himself a clergyman and dean of St. Paul's, in a sermon before convocation spoke openly of the morals of the priests.[31]  The occasion was a serious one. The bishop, Fitz James, was known to have shown no mercy in his dealings with Lollards. Yet Colet permitted daily readings in his church, and had been heard to pin his faith to the Bible and to the Apostle's Creed.[32]  He catechised the young in English, and it was notorious that many who were suspected of heresy came to hear him. As the convocation met in his cathedral he could not well refuse to preach to them. Yet he hesitated. If he spoke, he knew he must speak the truth. At last his mind was made up and he determined to do his duty, cost what it might. He boldly reproved his hearers for their mode of life, their hunting of preferment, their avarice, their pride, their lust, and exhorted them to newness of mind. This sermon struck the first note of the English Reformation. The bishop would have prosecuted Colet, but archbishop Warham ignored the charges. Henry himself, though he heard

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from him unpalatable truths, did not hesitate to declare "This is the doctor for me."

In the city the bishop made little way towards gaining the confidence or affection of the people. The burnings in Smithfield were frequent. It was dangerous to bring a priest to justice even for the worst offences. Richard Hunne, a respectable citizen who had been concerned in a prosecution against a priest, was accused of heresy, shut up in the Lollards' Tower adjoining the cathedral, and there, after a short interval, was found dead. A coroner's jury refused to bring in a verdict of suicide, but accused the keepers of the prison of wilful murder. The chancellor, Dr. Horsey, notwithstanding his indignant denial, was suspected of having helped to kill Hunne, and of having hung up the body so as to raise the suspicion of suicide. The bishop, by way of screening Horsey, made matters worse. A Wycliffite bible had been found in Hunne's house. His body was dug up, condemned by a mock court at which the bishop presided, and actually burnt in Smithfield.

The long-continued troubles of the Wars of the Roses, and the subsequent extortions of . had diverted public attention from the ecclesiastical question, but it now daily became more and more prominent. The clergy had laid up in men's minds a store of bitter memories from which they could not in after years escape. Quite apart from religious feeling every citizen had his own grievance; there was no family but had suffered more or less from the extortions, cupidity, immorality, or accusations of a priest: and nowhere in England were the later measures of Henry more popular than in London, nowhere did the hatred of "superstition " become so intense, nowhere, unfortunately, did the enthusiasm now being awakened lead to more complete

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and contemptuous destruction of "massing stuff," of noble buildings, of gorgeous monuments,

" Of tombs Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men, Old knights,"

the fathers of the city.

Under the year , we have a curious illustration of the position of the religious houses in these last days of their existence. The chronicler,[33]  from whom I have so frequently quoted, tells us of the escape of a prisoner from into the adjoining priory. He continued seven days in the church, when the sheriff and his officers obtained leave to speak with him. In spite of all exhortation, he refused either to abjure the realm, or to give himself up; and at length, exasperated by his obstinacy, the sheriff seized him, and took him forcibly away. This breach of sanctuary caused the friars to shut the church from Monday till Thursday, and "mass was sayd and songe in the fratter." At length the bishop of St. Asaph, who lived in the house, reconsecrated the church; but the "powre prisoner continewyd in prisone, for they sowte all the wayes that they cowde, but the lawe wolde not serve them to honge him; and at the last was delyvered and put at lyberte."

The next entry is of a different character, but interesting as illustrating the history of the theatre. It relates to an actor. His name was John Scotte. He was one of "the kynges playeres," and was put into for "rebukynge of the shreffes." Perhaps he presumed on his position in the royal service; but he lay for a "sennet" (seven-night) in gaol, and was then led through the city and back again; and, finally, was

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"delyveryd home to hys howse," but-and this gives us some idea of what a prison must have been in those days--"he took such a thought that he died, for he went in his shirt."

The beginning of the end was now at hand for the monasteries. The same year that the poor player was done to death, a solemn farce was being enacted at the house of the . The two legates, cardinal Campeggio, and his brother cardinal, Wolsey, sat on the divorce question; and in the autumn Wolsey ceased to be chancellor. must often have visited the beautiful hall of the Dominicans, in which he lays the scene.[34]  To the privileges accorded to the monastic orders, and the odour of sanctity which hung about places which had once been theirs, we may attribute the very existence of the theatre in which Richard Burbage built in , and in which was a shareholder. Players had been expelled from the city, on account of the fear of infection in large crowds; but the sheriff could not touch them within the sacred precincts. And the ancient house of the Black Friars, by its protection, repaid the poet for the immortality he has conferred upon it.[35]  Another scene which occurred here might well have been dramatised. In , a parliament had sat in the great hall. The names of the city representatives have not been preserved, but we cannot doubt that Sir Thomas More was one of them. He was certainly a member, and was elected speaker. The king had demanded a heavy subsidy, and Wolsey came into the hall to advocate it.[36]  He was

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attended by his whole retinue, his mace-bearers, his cross, his scarlet hat, the great seal of England, and all the state which belonged at once to an archbishop, a cardinal, and a chancellor. The scene that ensued puts the reader in mind of the visit of I. to the House of Commons, in . More and the members, repeatedly addressed by the overbearing Wolsey, took no notice of him whatever. They sat silent in their places. At length the cardinal began to perceive the mistake he had made. He said he had been sent by the king, who would require an answer. The silence was surprising and obstinate. "Is it," he asked, " that the house will only express its mind through the speaker?" On this More made answer, assuring the cardinal that the members were abashed at the sight of so great a personage. This little bit of flattery shows the admirable tact of the speaker, who went on to say that the chancellor's presence was not in accordance with the ancient liberties of the house; and that he himself could give no reply to the demand except as instructed by it. Wolsey was obliged to retire discomfited, and afterwards, in the gallery at Whitehall, said to More, " Would to God you had been at Rome, Master More, when I made you speaker."

The divorce took place in , but already the city monasteries had begun to feel the heavy hand of Henry. On the ,[37]  the work that was to transform London began by the suppression of the Augustinian canons of Elsing Hospital,[38]  a blind asylum. A few months later the venerable priory of [39]  was dissolved; the canons dispersed to other houses, and

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the site given to lord chancellor Audley.[40]  When queen Anne Boleyn was crowned,[41]  she passed through the city in procession on her way to , having two days before gone by water from to the Tower "with barges, the mayer, aldermen, and the crafftes, as the mayerdothe toWestmesterwhan he takys hys othe." Burnings and persecutions now went on with renewed vigour. The foolish proceedings of Barton, a Kentish prophetess, involved many of the clergy in destruction. In May, , "the Holy Maid," as she was called, was drawn to , with two monks from the cathedral at Canterbury, two friars, and a London rector, and all were hanged and beheaded. The bodies of the monks [42]  were buried in the ' church, those of the friars and the prophetess at the '; and the parson in his own church. This was but the beginning of executions. Three Carthusian priors, including the head of the London "Charter House," and six monks were hanged at , and quartered. One of the quarters of the prior was set up at the entrance of his own house facing into Street. The same year Fisher and More were beheaded on Tower Hill; and so what Mr. Green has well called the English Terror was inaugurated. The pages of the Chronicle are taken up with long lists of abbots, priors, priests, monks, friars, noblemen, knights, and ladies, who pass in sad procession to the gallows, the block, or the stake. In ten women and three men were hanged at in one day. The rebels of the Pilgrimage of Grace were tried and condemned at the Guildhall; and after their

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execution their quarters were buried at the Charterhouse. A single paragraph from the journal I have already so often quoted [43]  will be a sufficient example of the horrors which went on in London during the rule of . It tells us first of the execution at of six men, including the abbot of Fountains and the prior of the in; and goes on, "At that time was drawn from the Tower after, the lady Margaret Bowmer (Bulmer), wife unto Sir John Bowmer, and he made her his wife; but she was the wife of one Cheyny, for he sold her unto Sir Bowmer; and she was drawn when she came to into Smithfield, and there burned the same forenoon."

The assumption by the king of what had hitherto been considered the rights of the pope, in , placed the monasteries at his mercy. The early zeal of the monks and friars had passed away. The apostles of the New Learning wanted to spread education, and beheld the magnificent buildings and vast estates of the so-called religious houses with envious eyes. and the king had an old grudge against them for resisting a " benevolence." Nor did any one rise to defend them. The whole system which it had taken so many centuries to build up, and which had grown so vast that it overshadowed the land, fell at a blow. In London, without mentioning the suburbs, the suppression left vacant great spaces of the most valuable land at what we still call Whitefriars, at , at Street, at Smithfield, at the Charterhouse, at St. Martin's-le-Grand, in Cheap, at the Austin Friars, at the Crutched Friars, in the Minories, at , at , at St. Helen's; and, in short, on more than a dozen sites, great

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or small; some of them within, some without the walls. It is worth notice that only one abbey was in the city.[44]  All were priories except the house of the nuns of St. Clare, whose abbess, as the Minoresses were a Franciscan order, would more correctly be described as a prioress. But many houses with mitred abbots and lady abbesses at their head held land in London; and the fall of , of Barking, of Bermondsey, of Battle, and many others, some of them much further away than these, which had owned estates in the city, contributed to the surprising change. In the work was completed, and the division of spoils began.

There were among the convents a few in which sick people had always been received. The hospitals were not all of this character, but a majority of them certainly seem to have performed their duty to the poor, and their suppression with the rest left their patients uncared for. The city authorities, though they probably saw the ruin of so many fine buildings and so many splendid churches, with utter indifference, were alive to the charge which the absence of endowments for the succour of the poor and suffering threw upon them. A period of great misery must have followed the suppression. No provision of any kind seems to have been made beforehand for carrying on the good work hitherto performed at Smithfield, in St. Bartholomew's, or at , in Bethlehem. The blind at Elsyng'Spittle, the lame at St. Giles's, the leprous at St. Thomas's, were thrown upon the world. The evil was so great that, immediately on the suppression, the mayor, aldermen and commonalty

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addressed a petition to the king praying him to grant them four houses which they named, for the relief of poor, sick, and needy persons. In the general confusion, the petition lay neglected for eight years. It is probable however, that though no formal step was taken, the citizens were allowed to use the hospitals, or some of them. They asked for "Saynt Mary Spytell, Saynt Bartylmewes Spytell, and Saynt Thomas Spytell, and one abbey called the Newe Abbey at Tower hyll, fownded of good devocion, by auncient fathers, and endowed with great possessions and rents, onely for the relyeff, comforte, and ayde of the poore and indygent people not beyng hable to helpe theymselffs." [45]  In the citizens succeeded in obtaining St. Bartholomew's. Two years later they agreed to pay 500 marks a year to meet a similar contribution from the king towards the expense of providing for the poor. In the same year, I546, they obtained the ', and a scheme for the management of an extensive charity was formed by which the church, under the name of Christ Church, was to be made parochial; the neighbouring parishes of St. Nicholas Shambles and St. Ewen were to be united, and two clergymen, one a vicar, and the other to be called the Visitor of , were to be appointed. Early in the following year the king made a further concession, and the city obtained possession of Bedlam. The first years of the reign of . were taken up in arranging and regulating the hospitals, and in dealing with their endowments, committees being formed of aldermen and common councillors, to survey and govern the charities to the best advantage. In , Sir Richard Dobbes,

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then mayor, called all the citizens together into their respective parish churches, "where, by the lord mayor, the aldermen and other grave citizens, they were by eloquent orations persuaded how great and how many commodities would ensue unto them and their city, if the poor of divers sorts, which they named, were taken from out their streets, lanes, and alleys, and were bestowed and provided for in hospitals." The result of this appeal was so satisfactory, that in the course of the same year the ' convent was fitted up as a school, the hospital of St. Bartholomew newly furnished, and the hospital of St. Thomas, now called "St. Thomas the Apostle," in , purchased from the crown and repaired for the reception of " poor, impotent, lame, and diseased people." In the following year, a further grant was obtained of the palace of Bridewell, as a workhouse, the endowments given by . to the Savoy being transferred to it, and on the 26th June, , . signed the letters patent, formulating the whole system of municipal charity.

Except Bridewell, all these foundations still subsist. The conception of the public duty towards pauperism has altered since . gave his father's palace to the citizens for a workhouse. Bridewell " has become the ordinary name throughout the country for a temporary prison, and its origin is hardly remembered, the more so, as every vestige of the ancient house has disappeared. Some of the kings had a residence here as carly as the reign of ., if not of John. The spot can hardly have been dry land much before the beginning of the thirteenth century. We have, however, very few particulars of its history, and can but fall back upon the theory that it, like the neighboring Savoy, was foreshore, and so became royal property. .

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seems to have liked the position, and to have rebuilt the house. He and Katharine were living here when the two cardinals sat on the divorce in the ' house at the opposite side of the Fleet; and when the . was in England he lodged with the friars, and a temporary bridge was made for his suite to pass into their apartments in Bridewell. The city authorities applied the palace to various uses, but it was chiefly what we should now call a " casual ward." [46]  It was only pulled down in . In old views and maps, it appears as a castellated building of some architectural pretensions.[47]  It was the scene of the third act of 's '.,' who, playing at the ', had Bridewell almost before his eyes.

The estates in the city, confiscated at the suppression, speedily became the prey of greedy courtiers. himself condescended to fix upon London for the site of a residence. Some small tenements in Throgmorton Street, belonging to, and adjoining the house of the Austin Friars, were pulled down, and a " very large and spacious" mansion was erected for the vicar-general. Stow, whose father suffered from 's tyranny, feelingly describes the way in which the great man[48]  encroached on the land of his neighbours, and by the simple process of removing their fences, or the more complicated device of pushing back their summer-houses on rollers, succeeded in piecing together the open space still marked on maps as the Drapers' Garden. It was bought by the company in . . played at

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dice with Sir Miles Partridge for the bells and belfry at the eastern end of St. Paul's Churchyard, and lost them. How he had become possessed of them is not very clear, unless they were reckoned among the useless ornaments of the church, but the tower was pulled down, and the bells melted. This was the tower beside which the citizens had of old so often assembled in their folkmote, summoned by the great bell. [49] The site of the Charterhouse was first granted to lord chancellor Audley, who as we have seen had also Holy Trinity, at , and by him sold to lord North, who again parted with it to Dudley, duke of Northumberland. St. Helen's Priory was granted to Williams, 's brother-in-law, who, though not in any sense his heir,[50]  assumed the name, and became ancestor of Oliver , the Protector. The site of the priory of the Crutched Friars, at the south-east corner of Hart Street, was granted to Sir Thomas Wyatt. The school and church of St. Thomas of Acon, in Cheapside, were bought for 969£., by Sir Richard Gresham and the mercers' company, in , and the good work inaugurated by Neal in the fifteenth century was carried on almost without a break.

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The alteration made in the aspect of the city by means of these changes must have been remarkable, and the social changes must have been scarcely less enormous. The monasteries had long ceased to inspire any popular enthusiasm. The people feared the mass-priests, and hated them. The friars inspired only contempt. The ' chronicler, whose quaint pages I have so frequently quoted, was perhaps afraid to record his indignation at the destruction of so many sacred places, and so many objects of reverence, though he does not fail to show his pleasure when the reign of Mary brings some of them back. But his tone throughout the reign of . is uniformly marked by gloom. He notes the ruin of ancient houses, the desecration of churches, and the non-observance of holy-days, but restrains himself to the occasional ejaculation, " Almyghty God helpe it when hys wylle ys," or, if a more than usually fierce Protestant preaches at St. Paul's, cries, " What an ironyos oppynyone is this !" He makes frequent mention of the successive steps by which London was transformed during this period. In , we read that the church of the was pulled down and the steeple of the . " Item, thys same yere in the same monyth (September) was the Charterhowse pulde downe." He notices in the last month of Henry's reign, two events, the death of the earl of Surrey, amid "grete lamentacion," and the reopening of the church of the , "and it was namyd Crystys Churche of the fundacion of Kynge Henry the viijth." Henry was actually on his death-bed, at Whitehall, when Ridley, then bishop of Rochester, celebrated the reopening of "Christ Church," in a sermon the same day at St. Paul's Cross, in which he dwelt on the king's munificence, and recapitulated the advantages of his tardy gift to the city.

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The very same year saw the destruction of the choir of the church. The oaken stalls were taken out and sold. The altars were all pulled down, and with them the altartombs and the larger gravestones, and were sold for their value as old materials-Stow says for the paltry sum of 50£. A catalogue of about two hundred monuments is still extant.[51]  Two old stones, commemorating only private persons, were found on the site fifty years ago. The other monastic houses fared even worse. We have already seen how the marquis of Winchester treated the Austin Friars.[52]  It, with the priory of St. Bartholomew's, was spared by the Great Fire, and portions of the old buildings of the Minoresses were extant till the beginning of this century.[53]  The choir of St. Bartholomew's still stands, a magnificent example of Norman work, but partially desecrated by the neighbourhood and intrusion of a factory. Some portions of a cloister and other buildings may be made out in the adjoining courts and lanes. Of the ' Priory nothing is left. Of the ' we have only the name. The Mercers' chapel survived till the Great Fire, when it consisted of a handsome nave and aisles, with a lofty choir, quite overshadowing the little parish church of St. Mary.

It is, perhaps, with secret satisfaction that the chronicler demonstrates the sinfulness of the people of his time and dwells on the punishments inflicted for various crimes. To a contemporary, Henry Machyn,[54]  a cheerful undertaker

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, we are also indebted for many curious particulars of social life and street scenery. One example is mentioned by both. In April, , on Easter-even, a woman "rod thrugh London " in a cart; she dwelt in , and made " aqwavyte "; and was exposed for cruelty to her servant, "of the wyche the damsell ys lyke to dee." The cruelty was depicted above the cart on a banner painted with the figures of a woman with a card in her hand, "such as one doth card wool withal," and of a naked girl, whom she is represented as carding-" the wyche she left butt lytyll skyn of her "-and about her neck was hung the implement of her misdeeds. She was finally set down at her own door, the beadles making a proclamation of her shameful acts. Other misdemeanours were punished with whipping, as some girls who were idle and would not work, some immoral apprentices, and a man for selling false rings. A 'pyller " or "post of reformacyon," is many times mentioned, and seems to have given great satisfaction to the authorities. It was set up on the 1st June, , at the Standard in Cheap. One Sunday morning the mayor superintended the flogging "with roddes soore on their backes" of two young servants, who were tied to the pillar with "a chain that they might go about it," and, afterwards "as many as pleased the mayor."

The death of Edward took place at , on the 6th July. The short reign of queen Jane was chiefly signalised in the city by the cruel punishment of Gilbert Potter, "a drauer at Sent Jones [55]  at Ludgate," who had spoken slightingly of the new queen's title, for which his ears were nailed to the pillory, and afterwards "clean cut off." His master, who had denounced him, was the

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same afternoon accidentally drowned in shooting London Bridge on his way to the Tower, where he held the place of a gunner. Queen Mary was no sooner come to the throne, than the Guildhall authorities gave poor Potter a reward, and in the following year he received a grant of land in Norfolk, which, by the way, he speedily sold.[56] 

The Londoners, no doubt, had learned to hate the overbearing duke of Northumberland, and many of them had heard from their fathers of the wars of a disputed succession. Mary's title was accepted with more pleasure than might have been expected by so Protestant a community, but there was probably by this time a strong reaction against the excesses of the reformers, and we cannot doubt, also, that many believed the princess to be by no means so bigoted as her enemies asserted. It turned out well for the Protestants in the result. The queen was far more bigoted than her worst enemy could have described her, and the new party needed but the cruel persecution she so soon commenced to restore them to their former popularity. The new queen, " goodly imparelde," was received at by the mayor and aldermen, and conducted in great state to the Tower, the crafts in their livery lining the streets; and as the sympathising chronicler declares, the people's heart rejoicing at her coming in, and giving her "God save Her Grace, and long to continue, and prosper her in goodness ! Amen." Mary soon justified the friar's joy. Notwithstanding his declarations, there was a strong party in the city, which, though hating Northumberland and loyal to the queen, was not prepared for

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the complete restoration of papal supremacy. The very first sermon preached at the Cross by one of the old religion gave offence, though the lord mayor was present. The preacher, Bourne, the queen's chaplain, was ultimately " pullyd owte of the pulpyt by vacabonddes," and a dagger flung in his face. In fact he would probably have perished had not Bradford and Rogers, both of them subsequently martyred, interfered to save him, and he took refuge hard by in St. Paul's School. The Grey Friar notices many such outbreaks, uniformly attributing them to "vagabonds" and the lowest of the people, but it is not unreasonable to suppose many of the same rank as Bradford and Rogers were of the same way of thinking. He records with pleasure the return of Bonner from the Marshalsea, "lyke a byshope," and speaks of the welcome he received, and of the women who pressed to kiss him, and of the joy-bells which the people rang. The altar in St. Paul's was set up again, with such magnificence that the work occupied a month. Mass was performed early in October, the bishop singing "in hys pontyficalibus," and at the beginning of the old procession, with the mayor and aldermen in their robes, was renewed about the church on Sundays. Controversial disputations were held in "the longe chapell in Powles," three times a week, between " the new sortte and the olde," and there " came moche pepulle; but they ware never the wyser." It is pretty clear that the "new sort" had the best of these arguments, for they were very speedily put down by an order in council. On the occasion of the coronation the daily service had to be suspended because all the priests not under censure for Protestantism, or for having married, were summoned to assist at . When the queen passed through the city on her way, a man bearing flags stood on the

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summit of the cathedral spire, a form of adornment repeated when Philip of Spain made his entry a few months later, and "one came downe from the chapterhowse upon a roppe."

A procession of a different kind conducted lady Jane, with her young husband and two of his brothers, from the Tower to Guildhall, in November, to their trial. With them went the aged Cranmer, and all were tried together. [57]  The old walls can never have witnessed a sadder sight. "They all v. wher cast for to dee," says Henry Machyn. Thomas White, the mayor,[58]  was among the judges, and no one can have envied him the duty. The prisoners pleaded guilty, and confessed the truth of the indictment against them. Sentence was then pronounced, and they were led back as they had come, on foot. The lady Jane was dressed in black cloth, we are told, with a velvet cap, a black velvet book hanging to her girdle, and another book in her hand. She was at this time but "sweet seventeen," and her husband and his brothers were mere boys. It can hardly have been intended that the sentence should be executed; but Wyatt's [59]  ill-timed, ill-planned, and illconducted rising sealed the fate of two of them.

He appeared before on the afternoon of

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1st February, and remained at the bridge-foot for a week, during which he suffered the ardour of his followers to cool. Some deserted. Some were taken and hanged-two of them before the western door of St. Paul's. At length he was forced to march westward, as far as Kingston, before he could cross the . If he had possessed ordinary military ability, or had not temporised in , no one can say what might have happened. As it was, he marched unimpeded to , past Whitehall, where the queen actually lay at the time, and through Fleet Street to Ludgate. No preparations had yet been made to oppose him. As his men were ascending the hill an officious citizen named Harris, a merchant tailor of Watling Street, exclaimed, " Those be Wyatt's ancients," [60]  and at his word the gates were shut. It is very possible that a majority of the citizens would at least have let Wyatt in. "Some were very angry," says the chronicler, " with Harres because he spake." In short, though there was not enough discontent abroad among the citizens to induce any one himself to strike the blow, they would not have been sorry to see the blow struck.

Wyatt returned towards Temple Bar, where he was made prisoner; and having been first conducted to Whitehall, was sent finally to the Tower by water. The sequel is soon told. This was 7th February. On the 12th, lady Jane and lord Guildford Dudley were beheaded. On the 14th, twenty of Wyatt's adherents, and of those who had deserted from Norfolk, were hanged in various places. On the 23rd, Suffolk, the lady Jane's father, was beheaded on Tower Hill. Three weeks later the lady , the queen's step-sister, was committed to the Tower. On the 11th March, Wyatt

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himself suffered the penalty of high treason on Tower Hill.[61] 

So ended this miserable business, and the Marian persecution began. Philip II. and Cardinal Pole arrived in the autumn. Numerous timid Protestants recanted; and bonfires were actually ordered throughout London "for joy of the people that were converted." Our chronicler observes that "this year was divers burned in many places in England," and evidently takes as little notice as possible of individual cases. But the last entry in his diary is significant. "The Vth day of September () was browte thorrow Cheppesyde teyd in ropes xxiiij tayd to-getheres as herrytykes, and soo unto the Lowlers tower." Rogers, who had intervened to save Dr. Bourne, was the first to suffer in Smithfield; [62]  and Gardiner is said to have refused him permission to bid his wife farewell, on the ground that priests have no wives. This story, even if it is untrue, shows how savagely the persecutions were believed to be carried on. We have no occasion here to detail them.[63]  An inundation, a pestilence in the course of which no fewer than seven aldermen died, and a famine which followed, added to the general gloom. The loss of the last of England's possessions in France was a blow deeply felt by all classes of citizens; and Mary died in November, , leaving behind her a memory of hatred which the lapse of three centuries did not wholly obliterate. Her persecution of the reformers had utterly failed to stamp out the new religion; but had, on the contrary, in London

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especially, the effect of rendering it more enduringly popular. Of the purely civic history we know but little. A loan was contracted in the city, in the last year of the queen's reign, on the security of certain lands, and interest at twelve per cent. allowed on it. The mayors seem to have submitted to the ecclesiastical tyranny without a murmur; and were busied with schemes of internal reform, especially regarding the civic expenditure, the old standing quarrel with foreign traders, the regulation of their newly acquired hospitals, and the reduction of into a "ward without."

This last-named event deserves more than a mere passing mention. The borough, as it is so often called, had been a constant source of trouble to the authorities, and, as we have seen, in the reign of ., some concessions were made by which the London magistrates obtained a certain jurisdiction over it, and were enabled to prevent the escape of criminals across the bridge or the . But it was not until that the mayor and aldermen obtained the complete control of . By a royal charter dated on the 23rd April in that year, . granted to the commonalty of London the manor of , and all the manorial rights annexed to it, with a criminal and civil jurisdiction. For this grant [64]  the mayor and citizens paid 647£. 2s. 1d., and it included a number of houses which had belonged to Charles Brandon, duke of Suffolk, and had been bought from him by ., and the site of the dissolved abbey of Bermondsey. These possessions have ever since, as the Bridge House Estate, paid for the maintenance of . The ancient farm rent of 10£. yearly was still to be paid, as well as

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a sum of 500 marks for the hospital of St. Thomas, "now called the King's Hospital." The mayor, recorder, and such aldermen as had passed the chair were to be magistrates within the borough, and the whole was to be held of the king "as of his manor of , by fealty only, and in free socage by way of service." On receiving this charter, the court of aldermen added another member to their number, and erected into a ward of the liberties of the city; and at first the choice of an alderman was directed to be by the election of the inhabitants.

In the reign of Philip and Mary a change was made, and the alderman was appointed by the court of aldermen; and the office speedily became a sinecure, which it still remains, the senior alderman for the time being holding it upon translation from his own original ward. A magistrate appointed by the court presides in the district, and a high bailiff executes the duties of a sheriff.

had probably, in the early days of the Roman occupation, been a place of importance not second even to London. The remains found under the modern streets tell us of a time when the bridge foot was a station to be protected with care. Solid foundations and pavements are frequently uncovered. The boundaries of the fort are still indicated, as in the city, by the occurrence of interments ; and the great extent of the cemetery betrays the size of the town. [65]  It does not appear to be anywhere mentioned in a Saxon charter,

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but its name shows that the walls existed in Saxon times; and they were certainly available for the protection of the bridge during the Danish invasions. They were, however, easily destroyed by Norman William, and probably remained a very inconsiderable place for several centuries, though it has sent members to parliament since . Richard the Clerk and William Dynnok were returned in that year; and is mentioned as having two members in , , and later years.

The central feature of the borough was and is the church of the priory of St. Mary " Overey," now called St. Saviour's, which has in part survived to our own day among the few conventual churches left in London. The nave was senselessly pulled down and rebuilt in a hideous style in , when many interesting features, including a fine Norman doorway, were obliterated. The site of the adjoining priory seems to have been occupied by some religious foundation connected with the bridge at a very early period, but its authentic history begins with the year , when two knights, one of whom bore the suggestive name of Pont-de-l'arche, brought in a colony of Augustinian canons, and made Algod the first prior. . gave them the parish church of St. Margaret; and shortly after they obtained the house of Pont-de-l'arche, and other property, much of which is still in the hands of the corporation as the so-called "Bridge House Estate," and is devoted to the maintenance of the fabric of . The priory was, however, poor at first, but after the death of St. Thomas, it grew and prospered, being the resort of Canterbury pilgrims, and indeed of all travellers going south. The two parishes of St. Margaret and St. Mary Magdalene were absorbed, and portions of the great building

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assigned to the parishioners. At the dissolution the two were legally united into a new parish of St. Saviour, with the priory as a parish church; and it still stands, in part at least, as it stood when, in , the register received the significant entry, "Edmond , a player."

The "restoration" of St. Saviour's took place while Gothic architecture was still very imperfectly understood. The old nave was wholly removed; and the new one is a building which possesses the rare characteristic of absolute ugliness. It is, indeed, disagreeably remarkable to the thousands, perhaps millions, who see it from one branch or another of the network of railways which now surrounds it. The eastern end and the transepts have also been severely handled, but still retain traces of their mediæval beauty, and are crowded with interesting monuments; some of them, such as the altar-tomb of John Gower, the poet, having been brought from the demolished nave. The Lady chapel has been thoroughly remodelled, but retains some ancient features; and, amid the squalor of the neighbourhood, the staring vulgarity of the store-houses which now cover the site of the conventual buildings, and the great heavy mass of the brewery opposite, where once was the park of the bishops of Winchester, it is a veritable oasis. There was another chapel in the angle of the choir and the south transept. It was, strictly speaking, the parish church of St. Mary Magdalene. It shared the fate of the nave, but was not rebuilt. A handsome Perpendicular chapel was east of the Lady chapel, and was also removed. In it had been buried the great Lancelot Andrews, bishop of Winchester. His tomb was taken down, and replaced within the existing building. The palace of the bishops has long disappeared,

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but stood very near the church to the westward, where the names of some of the narrow lanes commemorate it. Clink Street, in particular, points out the site of the prison in which the bishops confined heretics. In the restoration of the Lady chapel care was taken to set up the names of the Protestant martyrs of queen Mary's time who were examined by Gardiner in the adjoining eastern chapel, long used as a consistorial court.[66] 

The connection of William with is one of the most unquestionable facts in his biography. He owned a house called the Boar's Head in the High Street, immediately opposite the east end of the church.[67]  His brother, as we have seen, was buried in the church. His theatre was the " Gloabe upon Banckside," to which reference has already been made. Close to it, but rather more to the westward, was the Rose, another theatre. A little further in the same direction were two "pits" for bear-baiting and bullbaiting, and the locality is still, or was very lately, known as the Bear Garden, and is so marked on many maps. Another old name still extant is that of the Falcon Dock, close to which stood the Falcon Tavern, which is said to have been patronised by and his company. was exactly on the spot now covered by the southern approaches of Bridge. If the modern visitor, therefore, wishes to identify the place where played, he cannot do better than take the train from to Cannon Street, and when he has crossed the line of

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the Chatham and Dover Railway he is in the classical region of Bankside. Looking towards the river he will see St. Peter's Church, immediately beyond which, a little to the right, were the bull and bear pits. The train then crosses the Bridge Road, on the right-hand side of which, looking from the railway, is Barclay and Perkins' brewery. It covers the site not only of the Globe, but also of the Rose, the Hope, and various other places of a similar kind which existed here from before 's time until all theatres were abolished by the Commonwealth. The Globe was a great hollow octagon, something like a modern martello tower, but thatched. The thatch took fire in , "by the negligent discharge of a peal of ordnance close to the south side thereof." [68]  'Henry the Eighth' was actually being played at the time. It was rebuilt on a larger scale, and continued in occupation till , when the ground landlord, Sir Matthew Brand, pulled it down, no doubt at the instance of the authorities.[69]  The other theatres on Bankside and the bear pit were spared a few years longer, but in the last of them was removed. "Seaven of Mr. Godfrie's Beares, by command of Thomas Pride, then hie sheriefe of Surry, were shot to death, on Saterday, the 9 day of February, , by a company of Souldiers." [70] 

The long reign of commenced with the customary procession through the city. " Her Grace" was met at Highgate by the lord mayor and aldermen

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and conducted to the Charter-house, whence on several occasions she passed through the outskirts of London before her coronation, which was delayed, it is said, on account of the difficulty of finding a Catholic bishop to bless the heretic. On the 14th January, , however, she made her solemn progress from the Tower in state to , every step of which was minutely chronicled,[71]  with the decorations of each street-corner and gate, the wondrous pageants and subleties, the dreary verses in English and Latin, the children that " made orations," the beatitudes at the Conduit in Cheap, and above all, the famous presentation at the door of St. Peter's Churcht[72]  of a Bible in English. In Cheapside, we are told, her grace smiled "for that she had heard one say ' Remember old King Henry theyhgt.'" The citizens were charmed to see " how many nosegays did her grace receive at poor women's hands; how oft-times stayed she her chariot, when she sawe any simple body offer to speak to her grace; a branche of rosemary geven to her grace with a supplication by a poor woman about Flete bridge, was seen in her chariot till her grace came to ."

, like most strong sovereigns, was popular in the city, and she retained her popularity, in spite of a few demonstrations of the old Tudor temper, to the end of her life. People never forgot that her great grandfather had been a mayor.[73]  True, there was a strong

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Catholic party among the citizens at first, led by Sir Thomas White,[74]  the founder 'of St. John's College, who, indeed, had much cause to complain of the reformers' zeal. In parliament, where he sat for Southampton, he opposed the change of religion, but " to every Protestant the Mass was identified with the fires of Smithfield, while the Prayer-book which it displaced was hallowed by the memories of the Martyrs."[75]  This, the natural effect of Mary's ruthless persecutions, turned the citizens into vehement Protestants, and it did not wholly lose its influence for a hundred years. The excesses of the Puritans in the time of . and the Commonwealth turned popular feeling a different way, but from , or from the accession of queen to the death of Oliver , London was animated with a religious fervour which prevailed over every political or civic feeling such as had previously moved them.

Commercial enterprise took a new direction from the extension of English naval power. "Merchant adventurers" formed companies and obtained charters.[76]  Trade with Flanders flagged when Alva ruined Antwerp; but the refugees brought with them fresh ideas and aspirations, as well as fresh methods of business. The Royal Exchange, which opened in , was an avowed imitation of the bourses of the Low Countries. The old traditions of a guild merchant were unconsciously revived in it, though Sir Thomas Gresham had no idea that he was superseding one of the most ancient institutions of his city. The next movement, that which

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resulted eventually in the formation of the Bank of England, took its rise about the same time, and Sir Thomas Gresham, at the sign of the Grasshoper in Lombard Street, was one of the first goldsmiths who began to develop into bankers.[77]  As the trade of Flanders died away under Spanish oppression, that of London increased, and in the markets of the city "the gold and sugar of the new world were found side by side with the cotton of India, the silks of the east, and the woollen stuffs of England itself."[78]  The queen's statue in the Exchange was an acknowledgment of the helps to trade which her policy afforded; and her punctual payment of crown debts, and abolition of benevolences and such illegal exactions, coupled with the reform of the coinage, gave general satisfaction. The steady support of the city undoubtedly tended to strengthen her government. Money, ships, and men were forthcoming at every emergency. In fact, the citizens were far more inclined for war than the queen herself; and when the generation that had lived under Mary, and had breathed the air of Smithfield reeking with the smoke of human sacrifices, began to pass away, a little of the old temperament showed itself again. In the whole city was illuminated, bonfires blazed at every corner, tapestry was hung on many a house-front, bells were rung, the poor were feasted, and all because Babington's conspiracy had been detected and Mary Stuart condemned. The queen wrote a letter of thanks to the mayor on the occasion, and the demonstrations of joy were repeated a little

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. later when news came of the final tragedy at Fotheringay.[79] 

The military and naval preparations to oppose the Armada were watched by the citizens with anxious eyes. asked London for fifteen ships and five thousand men. To this demand the citizens replied with thirty ships and ten thousand sailors, while the trained bands, to the number of ten thousand more, paraded each evening at the Artillery Ground [80]  in Spital Fields. We may be sure that all London poured out by river and road to the famous review at Tilbury, and when the flotilla of Philip was finally defeated, attended a solemn service in St. Paul's on the . She was conducted from the choir to a closet made on the north wall of the church, whence she could hear the discourse of bishop Pierce of Salisbury, at the Cross, and she afterwards returned through the church and dined in London House with bishop Aylmer. Seven years later, also in November, a special service of thanksgiving was held for the queen's long reign, when bishop Fletcher, who had succeeded Aylmer, preached a sermon in praise of .[81]  When at length she died, the grief of the citizens was marked by the most lively tokens. Monuments were erected to her memory in the churches, with epitaphs in which her virtues were set forth in language worthy of

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Euphues.[82]  When her funeral passed to there was " such a general sighing, groaning and weeping, as the like hath not been seen or known in the memory of man, neither doth any history mention any people, time, or state, to make like lamentation for the death of their sovereign." [83] 

Such were the personal relations of and the citizens. Of the political history of London during her reign there is less to tell. We have on several occasions outbreaks of apprentices, but it is impossible to assign any great meaning to them. As in all oligarchical periods the lower classes were more or less oppressed. Though the mayor and aldermen were much engaged in the regulation of the charities, pauperism increased to an alarming extent. Sturdy beggars, who gave themselves out as disbanded soldiers from the wars in Flanders, infested every road, and in the evil grew to such a height that the mayor was commanded to suppress it within three miles of London. Rioting, in which the apprentices were but too willing to join, ensued, and in the very year, , which saw the rejoicings for 's long reign, five unhappy wretches were condemned for sedition at the Guildhall, and were hanged upon Tower Hill. Among such fiery materials the authorities had no difficulty over and over again in finding soldiers, and on one memorable occasion the lord mayor and aldermen being at service in St. Paul's received a message from the queen asking them to raise a certain number of men for immediate service. Before night a thousand were enrolled, being chiefly, no doubt,

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impressed from the casual wards and the streets, and were so rapidly equipped that the next morning they were ready to march for Dover. Their services, as it turned out, were not required, and they were dismissed to their homes, as many, that is, we must suppose, as had homes, within twenty-four hours. , in his silly attempt at the close of 's reign, reckoned on the assistance of one of the sheriffs, who commanded a force of a thousand trained-band men, but while he was demanding "munitions of war" from the armourers in Gracechurch Street, Burghley had proclaimed him a traitor in Cheapside. It is curious to note the appearance of the bishop once more among the civic dignitaries on this occasion. When attempted to return to his house at the Outer Temple, the bishop, we are told, had posted a number of men at Ludgate to oppose him, and so effectually that having had a drink in Friday Street, perhaps at the classic Mermaid, which must have been well known to his companion, Southampton, he turned back, St. Paul's Chain was lifted up to let him pass, and he descended to Queenhithe, whence he took his way home by water.

This event, of little importance in the city annals, is yet the turning point in the career of .[84]  He was the friend of the seditious earls. He may have been implicated in their insurrection. Certain it is that their fall, the death of , the imprisonment of Southampton, the banishment of Pembroke,[85]  left an indelible mark on his mind. He had prospered in London. His subordinate share in Burbage's Theatre at

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had blossomed into the proprietorship of the Globe, which had been built in on the opposite bank. He had made money and fame. He had paid his father's debts, and bought an estate in his native town. was beheaded in the Tower on the 19th February, , and the populace of the city, though they had declined to join his standard, showed their sympathy by waylaying the headsman and beating him as he returned homeward from performing his hideous task. From this melancholy year a change comes over the spirit of the poet. 'Julius Cæsar' was published in , "and we may have scattered through the telling of the great Roman's fate the expression of 's sorrow for the ruin of ." The times, as Hamlet, whose tragedy next appeared, asserts, were "out of joint." It is impossible not to see the queen's old age and impending death reflected in many ways. We are reminded of the old age of . was already " aweary of the world," and in the five years that follow he wrote the more melancholy of his plays, 'Othello,' for example, and 'Lear,' and dwelt on " the darker sins of men, the unpitying fate which slowly gathers round and falls on men, the avenging wrath of conscience, the cruelty and punishment of weakness, the treachery, lust, jealousy, ingratitude, madness of men, the follies of the great, and the fickleness of the mob,"[86]  and as the " bright and occidental star" of 's life sank at length in gloom, his genius reflects the universal sadness with which the new era of the Stuarts was ushered in.

 
 
Footnotes:

[1] Thoms's 'Stow,' p. xii.

[2] The "New Shakspere Society" have done good work for lovers of Shakespeare's London, in publishing Harrison's 'Description of England in Shakspere's Youth,' together with Norden's map, Mr. Wheatley's valuable notes on it, and the extracts from Perlin and Hentzner, and others. In the following pages I make continual use of this book, and acknowledge my obligation gratefully once for all.

[3] ' Shakspere's England,' New Shakspere Society, p. xc. Mr. Wheatley's notes on Norden's map.

[4] Its site is still marked by Playhouse Yard, behind the Times office.

[5] A foreign map, by Ryther of Amsterdam, published in 1604, closely resembles Norden's, but being much larger and clearer I have preferred to have it copied, the more so as Norden's map has been copied very often. Ryther's map, in two editions, is in the Crace collection at the British Museum, Nos. 31 and 32.

[6] ' Greyfriars' Chronicle,' pp. 75, 80.

[7] Evelyn saw a woman burnt there for murder.-'Diary,' 10th May, 1652.

[8] Holinshed'; ' Chronicle,' from which Shakespeare derived his historical knowledge, was printed in 1577. This, the first edition, is often described as Shakespeare's Holinshed. See Lowndes, p. 1086.

[9] Stow's ' Annals.'

[10] Or Shaa

[11] Shakespeare makes Richard tenant of Crosby Place as early as 1471(' Richard III.,' act i. scene 2), but this is an anachronism. He also mentions it in act i. scene 3, and in act iii. scene I. Richard certainly lived there at the time of the young king's death.

[12] It is sometimes said that the deputation of citizens attended at Crosby Place.

[13] So Malcolm describes it ('Londinum Redivivum,' iii. 554), and he had seen a considerable portion of the Priory standing; but from his print it would seem that the cloister was at a lower level than the church, and that this " squint" was in the cloister wall.

[14] He is assessed in the parish books in October, 1598, for 5£. 13s. 4d.

[15] Malcolm.

[16] The date is not given, but the names of the witnesses, chiefly prebendaries, enable it to be fixed within five years. Newcourt, i. 363.

[17] For St. Helen, the "Empress Helena," see chap. ii. " Roman London."

[18] Newcourt thinks 1212 is the exact date.

[19] They are printed in full by Hugo, 'Last Ten Years of the Priory of St. Helen,' and by Malcolm.

[20] Mr. Hugo's materials were chiefly the same as Malcolm's, but his long paper already quoted, which was originally contributed to the 'Transactions' of the London and Middlesex Society, adds a little to our knowledge of the history of the Priory. The nuns are said by Stow to havebeen popularly called Minchons, whence Minchon, or Mincing Lane, which belonged to the Priory. The last prioress, Mary Rowlesley, had evidently provided for her kindred. In 1534 she granted the manor of Burston, now called Bordeston, or Boston, to John Rowlesley, at 9£. a year, and he and Edward Rowlesley continued to receive pensions till 1556.

[21] Erasmus left England in 1514. Colet died in 1519. More had Crosby Place between 1516 and 1523, but the More household described by Erasmus was in Bucklersbury. See Seebohm, ' Oxford Reformers.'

[22] By the late Dean Stanley.

[23] 'Greyfriars' Chronicle,' p. 24.

[24] Further references to this and other visitations of pestilence will be found in a subsequent chapter.

[25] This William Fitzwilliam built the church of St. Andrew Undershaft as we now see it. He had been recorder in the year of Richard's accession, as mentioned above.

[26] 'Greyfriars' Chronicle,' p. 29.

[27] Or sheriffs' prison.

[28] By one of the most senseless of all the vandalisms to which the Tower has been subjected in our own day, the prisoners' inscriptions in the Beauchamp Tower have all been assembled in one chamber, thus not only destroying their historical value, but that also of the carvings which were already on the walls.

[29] 'Greyfriars' Chronicle,' p. 33.

[30] " This year, 1514, was great death at the Minories." ' Greyfriars' Chronicle,' p. 29.

[31] See Milman, 'St. Paul's,' and Green, ii. 88.

[32] For further particulars as to Colet's views, see Seebohm's 'Oxford Reformers.'

[33] ' Greyfriars' Chronicle,' p. 34.

[34] ' King Henry VIII.,' act ii. scene 4.

[35] The Playhouse, still commemorated in Playhouse Yard, where the Times office stands now, was pulled down in 1655.

[36] Roper's ' Life of More,' p. 18.

[37] 'Greyfriars' Chronicle,' p. 35.

[38] Afterwards Sion College.

[39] For an account of the foundation see above, chapter vi.

[40] He had also the site of the Charterhouse.

[41] On Whitsunday, May 31, 1532.

[42] :The monks were Bocking and Dering; the friars, Rich and Risby; the priest, Gold. He was rector of St. Mary Aldermary.

[43] The 'Greyfriars' Chronicle,' p. 40.

[44] The " New Abbey" of St. Mary of Grace, in East Smithfield, sometimes called East Minster, was without the walls. It belonged to the Cistercian order. The victualling office, so often mentioned by Pepys, afterwards stood on the site.

[45] 'Memoranda, References and Documents relating to the Royal Hospitals,' printed under the direction of the committee of the Court of Common Council, 1836.

[46] See view of court in Wilkinson, vol. i., and of the wretched "Pass room,' in Ackerman's ' Microcosm,' vol. i.

[47] Wilkinson calls it a "western arx palatina."

[48] "Thus much of mine own knowledge have I thought good to note, that the sudden rising of some men causeth them in some matters to forget themselves " (p. 68).

[49] The place of meeting of the Folkmote is defined for us by a presentment against the dean and chapter in the fourteenth year of Edward II ., as to the obstruction and enclosure of "quandam placeam terræ de solo Domini Regis," 30 feet long by 20 feet wide in one part, in other 15 by 8. The citizens contended that the ground on the east, including a new cemetery, and the cemetery by the bell-tower, as well as the ground on the west side, belonged to the king, and that the ground between the Cheap Gate and St. Augustine's, was king's highway. Sir Miles, " the wych playd wyth Kynge Henry the viiite at dysse, for the gret belfery," was hanged on 26th February, 1552, on Tower Hill.

[50] ThomasCromwell's son and heir was summoned to parliament as lord Cromwell in the very month of his father's death. His descendants became, in 1607, earls of Ardglass, and on their extinction in the male line, in 1687, the representation of the great vicar-general devolved on an ancestor of the present lord de Clifford.

[51] Printed in ' Collectanea Topographica et Genealogica,' vol. v. See also preface to Mr. Nichols' edition of the ' Greyfriars' Chronicle.'

[52] See above, chapter viii.

[53] They are engraved by Smith. 'Topography,' p. 8.

[54] " Monser the Machyn de Henry," as he playfully describes himself (p. 143), kept his diary, which has been printed by the Camden Society, from 1550 to 1563.

[55] St. John's lead Tavern; see Nichols' ' Chronicle of Queen Jane' (Cam. Soc.), p. 115.

[56] See the curious "Epistle of Poor Pratte to Gilbert Potter 'in the tyme when he was in prison'" ('Chronicle of Queen Jane,' p. 116). Northumberland is alluded to as "the bare and ragged staf," and is compared to the lions in the den with Daniel. Pratte's knowledge of scripture makes " Nabuchodonosor " the king by whom he was cast in.

[57] Mr. Doyne Bell (' St. Peter ad Vincula,' p. 169), says, " The trial was by special commission before the Lord Mayor (Thomas White), the Duke of Norfolk presiding as Lord High Steward, and other peers." The meaning of this sentence escapes me. Was the mayor included in the commission ? If so, how can the duke have presided ? I cannot conceive the mayor taking a subordinate place in his own Guildhall. The point is interesting, but Mr. Bell, though he seems to have inspected the original documents relating to the trial, does not notice it.

[58] He was the founder of St. John's College, Oxford, in 1555.

[59] The general history of Wyatt's rebellion does not come within the scope of the narrative in the text. I have only inserted what concerns London.

[60] A very Shakespearian expression.

[61] It is sometimes said that he was hanged on Hay Hill, which was then in sight of St. James's, but though two of his men were gibbeted there, our chronicler can hardly be wrong in making their leader die on Tower Hill.

[62] 4th February, 1555.

[63] The whole number burnt is set down at 277.

[64] See 'The Charters of London,' p. 164, where the text, summarised by Norton, p. 386, is given in full.

[65] The opinion that Roman London stood on the site of Southwark is a mere question of names. Ptolemy, it is true, places London in Cantium (see above, chapter ii.), and Southwark may have been reckoned an integral part of the city, and may, moreover, before the extension of the walls, have been the larger part.

[66] There is a view of it in Wilkinson's ' Londina Illustrata,' vol. i., as well as a view of the interior of the church, from which an idea may be formed as to the ruthlessness of Gwilt's " restoration."

[67] Boar's Head Court has not long been taken away.

[68] Stow. We are not informed how the artillery came to be discharged so near, but it may have been stage play.

[69] " Munday the 15 April, 1644, to make tenements in the roome of it." MS. note in a copy of Howes' Stow, at Thirlestane House, in the Phillips collection, quoted in the 'Academy' of October 28th, 1882, by Mr. Furnival.

[70] Ibid. The Blackfriars "players' playhouse," was pulled down on the 6th August, 1655, " and tenements built in the rome."

[71] Allen has reprinted a scarce tract (vol. i. p. 254), which is devoted to an account of the " Passage of our most dread soveriegne Lady Quene Elizabeth through the city of London to Westminster." It was printed by Tottill in 1559.

[72] St. Peter's in Cheap was not rebuilt after the Great Fire.

[73] Sir Geoffrey Boleyn, just a century before the queen's accession. The citizens had good cause to cherish his memory, for he left an enormous sum, 1000£., equal to perhaps 30,000£. in our money, to poor householders.

[74] Mayor at the trial of the lady Jane, in 1553. See above, p. 316.

[75] Green, ii. 303.

[76] The company of so-called Merchant Adventurers obtained their first charter from Henry VII., and that from Elizabeth in 1564, the Turkey Company in 1579, and the East India Company in 1600.

[77] See Mr. Price's ' Handbook of London Bankers,' p. 66. Messrs. Martin and Co., 68, Lombard Street, occupy the site of the Grasshopper, and claim to represent the original firm. The sign was abolished in 1770, and lost in 1794. (See below, chapter xiii.)

[78] Green, ii. 389.

[79] There are notices of these events in nearly every city register. See Smith's ' Topography,' p. 51.

[80] Artillery, it is hardly necessar) to observe, originally meant archery. The history of the Honourable Artillery Company is very interesting. The Guild of St. George which presided over it, was, perhaps, the only city guild which survived Edward VI. Artillery Lane, Spital Fields, commemorates the archery ground.

[81] Sparrow Simpson, 'Old St. Paul's,' p. 227. Aylmer died in 1594, and Fletcher was appointed in the following year, that of the thanksgiving.

[82] Many sets of these verses are in Stow's ' Survey.' These monuments were set up also in many country churches. I have observed that for some unexplained reason they are nearly as obnoxious as hatchments to restorers, and few of them survive.

[83] Howe's Stow.

[84] See Mr. Stopford Brooke's 'Primer of English Literature,' p. 99.

[85] Whose mother, "learned, good, and wise," is immortalised in Ben Jonson's epitaph. She lived in Crosby Place. (See above p. 290; and Mr. Rendle on the Globe Playhouse, Harrison's 'England' (New Shak-] spere Society), part ii., appendix i.

[86] Brooke, p. 100.