A History of London, Vol. I

Loftie, W. J.

1883

CHAPTER VIII. THE BISHOP.

CHAPTER VIII. THE BISHOP.

 

IT would be hardly possible to overrate the influence of religion on the external appearance of London in the fourteenth century. The parishes did not multiply, but in each of the churches were numberless private chantries. The older monasteries were as sleepy as ever, but beside them were the friars, ever begging, ever teaching, ever preaching. The houses of the poorer folk were still very miserable. Overcrowding must have been the rule, when every man had to live near the scene of his daily work. A long journey home after dark was impossible through unlighted streets and unmended roads: and so, although the houses were taller than before and overhung more and more until opposite neighbours could shake hands from upper windows, the squalor, the bad air, the want of pure water, the teeming population, contributed to a state of things almost incredible. The death rate must have been under ordinary circumstances from 40 to 60 per 1000, instead of from 18 to 20 as now. And when the plague came, as it did in and raged for seven years, the average of deaths must have been something of which we can have no conception. Even if the estimate be exaggerated which makes 50,000 to have been buried during one year in a new cemetery provided by Bishop Stratford,-the nephew of Stratford, archbishop of Canterbury, who as bishop of Winchester had

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taken so prominent a part in the deposition of Edward II.-yet the fact that the deaths were so estimated by contemporary writers shows how terribly the pestilence must have raged. Sir Walter Manny bought "the Spittle Croft" which adjoined the bishop's field, and the two together were soon afterwards covered by the buildings of a Carthusian monastery built by Stratford's successor, bishop Northburgh.[1] 

The blow inflicted by this awful visitation seems to have taken effect in an increase of ecclesiastical establishments; chiefly, however, in the endowment of mass priests to pray for the souls of the deceased, one or more of whom must have been mourned by every family. The result did not add much to the substantial beauty of the parish churches. They continued small and mean with certain exceptions, such as St. Mary le Bow in Cheap: and the view of the city from a distance, say from the opposite side of the river, must have been remarkable for the number rather than the height of the towers. Some of the conventual churches and the noble spire of St. Paul's must have been very conspicuous among the smaller edifices. The aspect of old London in the later years of ., in fact, from what we know, was very fine. No doubt, as in the case of so many modern cities on the Continent and in the East, the best view was from the outside, where the narrow winding lanes, the broken pavement, the filth and ruin were not apparent, and where the spectator was astonished by the vast mass of buildings great and small which covered the double hill, a few standing out by themselves on account either of their beauty or their

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size. The long, red-tiled roofs of the companies' halls were contrasted with the shingled or lead-covered spires of the churches which rose between, while here and there a grim bastion of the city wall, or one of the gates, crowned by vanes and banners alternating with the heads of Scottish marauders, showed high and square.

The Templars had long disappeared; but their house was the first to greet the traveller from the west. It seems never to have been decided whether the Temple is in the city or not. The Temple, in fact, was on the spot before the city had ventured to throw its arms round the new suburban ward of Farringdon Without. So far back as the question was raised. The original Templars had come and gone before . Their successors were nothing if not aggressive and litigious. The Lord Mayor who ventures into the precincts of the lawyers with his sword and his mace held upright does so at the risk of being mobbed. Woe betide the policeman who pursues a thief into the labyrinth of courts. Yet the Outer Temple, a little district of alleys and lanes chiefly named after Devereux, earl of , is in the city and amenable to the jurisdiction of the civic authorities. But when the students of the common law in accepted their lease from the hospitallers to whom the house of the Knights of the Sepulchre had been given, an exception was made for what was then and long after the house of the bishops of Exeter. The bishops of Ely were also entitled to "corrody" in the Temple, and John of Kirkeby had many a contest with the knights on the subject, before he removed to Holborn. [2]  It was to his house here, as we saw in the last chapter, that the body of the unfortunate bishop

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Stapleton was carried by pious choristers after his murder, and his successors retained their lodgings on the spot till the time of .

The Templars' first settlement had been in Holborn. There, in , they built a house which must have stood very close to what is now the north-east corner of Chancery Lane, or Southampton Buildings. Some relics of its carvings were unearthed on the spot a few years ago. The knights removed to the " New Temple," as it was called for centuries, in , and seem to have made it very strong. King John both resided in it on several occasions and also kept his treasures under the guardianship of the Templars. When they were suppressed, amid the troublous times of ., their house, of which only the chapel now remains, was given by the king to his cousin Aymer de Valence, earl of Pembroke. The earl of next obtained it, but on his " martyrdom" it reverted to the crown, and in , by special arrangement, went to the Templars' old rivals, the Knights of John of Jerusalem, at Clerkenwell. They had a house of their own already, and leased two-thirds of the estate to the students of common law for a rent of 10£. a year, while the Outer Temple, as we have seen, continued in the occupation of the bishops of Exeter.

Of the buildings which existed when the Knights of St. John made these transfers but one can be said to remain. The church with its circular nave is the most ancient edifice along the route between the Tower and A crypt still to be seen at Clerkenwell, and the church of St. Bartholomew, Smithfield, both retain features of the same period. But the Templars' chapel has peculiarities unequalled for their interest. Only three other examples of the round form

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affected by the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre are to be found in England. One is at Northampton, and one at Maplestead in , and most of us have seen the quaint little church which represents the Temple at Cambridge. The modern Templars have dealt very hardly with their church. Considering its antiquity and the venerable associations which might have been expected to guard its walls, which even the Great Fire spared, one is tempted to wonder at the audacity, rather than the bad taste, which has wiped off every trace of age, has renewed every crumbling stone, has re-chiselled every carving, has filled the windows with kaleidoscope glass, has painted the roof with gaudy patterns, and has taken the old monuments, rich with heraldry, down from their places and bestowed them under the bellows of the organ.[3] 

On the opposite side of Fleet Street another religious house survives, like the Temple, in its chapel alone. [4]  The hospital for converted Jews, which . founded in , has become the Rolls office, and the chapel was long desecrated by the presence of accumulated records. Little but the skeleton of the building is ancient, but very few of the thousands who daily pass so near it have any idea of the wealth of renascence monuments which the old walls contain. In calling attention to them I feel a certain hesitation. Should the ruthless hand of the restorer be let loose on the altar-tomb of John Young, by Torregiano, it will be a source of regret to every one who can admire work in a style which is neither gothic, nor classical, nor even " Queen Anne."

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The chapel in which Burnet and Atterbury, but above all Butler, preached, and whose pulpit was filled in our own time by the lamented Brewer, has exceptional claims on our regard.

The extension of the city liberties to Temple Bar was an infringement of the rights of the Abbot of , in whose great parish of St. Margaret the churches of St. Dunstan and St. Bride were but chapels of ease. Their dedications show the lateness of their dates. The dean and chapter still present to St. Bride's, but . persuaded the abbot to annex St. Dunstan's to his Jews' House. The opening of the Fleet Bridge under Ludgate, which had previously been a water-gate only, must have taken place before , and the "bar of the New Temple " is mentioned as early as the first year of the fourteenth century. A new roadway or street now connected the outlying suburb of Showell Lane, now Shoe Lane, with the city, by a route more direct than that which led through and over Holborn Bridge. Of the manor or ward which the great goldsmiths of the Farringdon family purchased here I have spoken already.[5]  This part, westward from the Fleet, was previously the aldermanry of Anketin de Auvergne, and was known for a time as his ward, and before him it apparently belonged to Joyce Fitz Peter.[6] 

That there was no bar here before is probable from the wording of the original grant of the Savoy.[7] 

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A piece of ground, there spoken of as lying outside the walls of London, is described in subsequent documents as lying outside Temple Bars. Similar bars were set up on the great western highway in Holborn, and at Smithfield, Norton Folgate, Whitechapel, and other places on the principal roads. When the archway which subsisted till our own time was built in , it succeeded to "a House of Timber," described by Stow, who, however, mentions " posts, rails, and a chain " as being the ancient arrangement. The singular form was adopted instead of the plural when this "house " was erected, but the bar was never properly a city gate, that is, a fortified opening in the wall. There was in fact no wall or other defence between city and county. Shire Lane [8]  till lately marked the boundary. Access could be had from the Templar's tilt-yard-now the site of the New Law Courts-into the city by numerous passages.

In addition to the monasteries and hospitals already enumerated as having been in existence in the time of Fitzstephen, a walk through the city from the Temple Bars, at the close of the reign of ., would have revealed a great number newly founded. The friars, to whom I have already had several occasions to refer, established themselves early in the reign of ., and by the middle of the fourteenth century their churches had become conspicuous ornaments of the city. The Carmelites had a house next door to the Temple, the site of which is still known as the White Friars'. On the opposite bank of the Fleet was the more celebrated settlement of the , or Dominicans, who made their appearance in London in , when, under the patronage of Hubert de Burgh, they opened their first house, like the Templars, in Holborn. The

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history of the gradual piecing together of an estate on this spot has been told with loving minuteness by a modern antiquary.[9]  In they had managed by gift or purchase to obtain so much land that it became possible for them to build a convent suited to the requirements of the order. Only a part of this estate, apparently, was occupied by the earl of Lincoln when the friars moved, in , to their new buildings on the river's bank, at what we call still the '. For this purchase the earl gave 550 marks, to be paid by instalments. The new house actually interrupted the course of the city wall, which the brethren, such was their extraordinary influence, obtained leave to remove and rebuild. One of their number, Robert Kilwardby, was at this time archbishop of Canterbury, and to his good offices, no doubt, they were indebted for the king's favour. It must be allowed to the credit of the Black Friars, that so far, at least, they did not seek popularity at any sacrifice of principle. They endeavoured to mitigate the cruelty of the decrees against the Jews by every means in their power, and when, in , thousands were sacrificed in a general persecution, the friars protected them with little regard to their own safety, "quod dictu horribile est," as one of the chroniclers of the day exclaims. So, too, at the time of the deposition of ., they took the king's side, and so greatly incurred the wrath of the Londoners, that they had to flee from their house into the country.

Gregory Rokesley, who, as we have seen,[10]  did much for the , seems to have looked with equal favour on the Dominicans. It was on a site of his presentation in "two lanes or ways next the street of

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Baynard's Castle," that their second house was built; and he permitted them to take down Montfitchet's Castle, and to use the materials for a church, which must have been one of the finest in London. It has as completely disappeared in its turn as the Norman baron's tower which it succeeded.[11]  The city wall was pulled down from Ludgate to the and rebuilt, so as to include the convent within its shelter. At the bend of the wall thus made a "certain good and comely tower" was reserved for the accommodation of the king, whenever he might choose to visit the brethren. Parliaments were held here on several occasions, and the magnificence of the buildings is frequently referred to in contemporary records. The Friars Preachers gradually fell into all the vices which beset their brethren of the older monasteries, and by the time of the suppression had as little claim on the public regard as any body of Benedictines or Cistercians in the kingdom.

The churches of the friars were always much esteemed places of burial. The could boast of preserving the tomb of Hubert de Burgh, which they brought with them from Holborn, and in addition were laid in their spacious aisles the bodies of John of Eltham, the brother of ., the father and mother of .'s last wife, and many other great folk, one of the most remarkable being that Tiptoft, earl of Worcester, who was Caxton's patron or friend, and who was as

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much distinguished for his learning as he was disgraced by his cruelty in war. But though the could show many noble names inscribed on their pavement, and had among their relics the heart of queen Eleanor and that of Alphonso her eldest son, they were not so highly favoured in this respect as their neighbours on the hill above. The church of the has disappeared as completely as that of the , its site being now partly a cemetery and partly covered by the modern Christ Church, Street: but in it were laid the bodies of four queens, and a larger number of great folk than even in " Powles " itself. Weever says of it that it was "honoured with the sepulture of four queens, four duchesses, four countesses, one duke, two earls, eight barons, and some thirty-five knights," summing them all up as "six hundred and sixty-three persons of quality here interred." Stow tells us of "nine tombs of alabaster and marble invironed with strikes of iron, in the choir; and one tomb in the body of the church also coped with iron; besides seven score grave stones of marble."[12]  The queens were Margaret, the second wife of .; Isabella, the widow of .; her daughter, Joan " Makepeace," wife of David Bruce, king of Scotland, whose funeral is said by tradition to have taken place the same day as her mother's; and Isabella, wife of Lord Fitzwalter, in her own right queen of Man. Besides these the church contained the hearts of Eleanor, queen of ., and of .[13]  All the monuments, which were at the east end of the church, were destroyed

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and sold for the paltry sum of fifty pounds by Sir Martin Bowes, Lord Mayor in .[14] 

The Franciscans, who came to London during the lifetime of their founder, in ,[15]  were at first entertained by the Friars Preachers who had preceded them. They then hired a house in Cornhill where they remained until the munificence of the citizens allowed them to migrate to Street, where John Ewen, or Iwyn, gave them a site, and himself joined their body. It has sometimes been said that they took up their abode among the shambles in token of humility, which is possible, but Ewen's grant and the probable openness of the spot are sufficient reasons for their choice. The first chapel, afterwards the choir, was built for them by William Joyner, mayor in . The nave was added by Henry Waleys; the chapter-house by Walter le Poter; the dormitory, as already mentioned, by Gregory Rokesley, who was buried here; the refectory by Bartholomew de Castro, who further gave the friars an annual feast on St. Bartholomew's day; the infirmary by Peter de Helyland, and the studies by Bonde, a king-of-arms. In later years the famous Whittington built and furnished their library.

The conventual buildings were but mean, as was the wont of the Franciscans, but a second church, which was not completed for twenty-one years, must have been one of the most magnificent in London. It was 300 feet long, and had columns and pavement all of marble. The ground occupied by the domestic buildings is now covered by the school known as Christ's Hospital, in

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many parts of which remains of the old architecture may still be seen.

There was also a house for sisters of the order, without . Waleys was its greatest benefactor and was buried in the church. It is commemorated by the street called the Minories, as the sisters were known as Minoresses, or poor Clares, from their patron, St. Clare. A curious history attaches to the site of their house, which though it was in Portsoken is not now reckoned in the city.[16]  Their church soon after the Reformation. was made parochial, under the name of Holy Trinity in the Minories, the gift being in the crown. Pretensions of an absurd kind were put forward by successive incumbents, as to exemption from episcopal visitation and other privileges of a royal chapel. Boniface VIII. in had indeed made the old house of the sisters exempt, and nothing but a kind of local tradition existed to support the claim, which was not, however, overruled till it had been a source of considerable trouble to the authorities. The curates used to perform marriages, as they were about the same time, and on similar grounds, performed at Somerset House and the Savoy, without licences or the publication of banns. The old church, after having been repeatedly repaired, was pulled down in and rebuilt as we now see it. The conventual buildings must have been of a substantial and even ornamental character, and worthy rivals of the neighbouring foundation after which the modern church is called.[17] 

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Intermediate between the Minoresses and the male representatives of their order, was the site of the noble foundation of the Augustinian Friars, which still, in an abbreviated form, retains their name, as the church-also shortened-retains some of its architectural features.[18]  The church pavement still shows traces of some two score of brasses, all marking the graves of illustrious people, including a step-brother of ., an earl of the Bohun family, one of the Arundels, one of the Veres, one of the Courtenays and one of the Berkeleys. Of the fabric of the church, which was built for the friars by the grandson of their founder, another Humfrey de Bohun, earl of Hereford, about the middle of the fourteenth century, we are told that it boasted a noble spire-" small, high, and straight," says Stow, who lived under its shadow -in this respect probably excelling the other churches of the mendicant orders. The friars had made their first settlement here in , and gradually, by encroachments, by favour, by purchase,-in short, by incessant activity, open or underhand,-they had put together, in the very heart of the city, an estate which even in the middle ages must have been immensely valuable. The church owes its partial preservation to its having been assigned for the use of a Dutch congregation, but after the dissolution neither considerations of taste nor the prayers of the inhabitants of the parish availed with the marquis of Winchester to spare the choir or to save the falling steeple : so that, as Strype observes bitterly, for one man's commodity London lost so goodly an ornament, "and times hereafter may more talk of it." Times hereafter, unfortunately, have to complain of what in some respects is an even greater act of vandalism. Of

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the old church as Stow knew it, little if anything now remains. A modern building, with neat masonry and shallow mouldings, was erected in its place under the name of restoration some few years ago, and the last remnant of the four noble churches-next to " Powles " the finest in London,-of which the corporation spoke in such moving terms to ., was wantonly and stupidly destroyed.

These mendicant orders, as the friars were called, abounded in bishops. Even then the greatness of the see of London made it necessary for its incumbent to employ a coadjutor or suffragan. For a long time Peter de Corbavia, an Italian, whose proper diocese was in Dalmatia, resided in London, and helped bishop Gravesend. We find him, in , employed to purify St. Paul's, where two rival canons had fought and one of them had shed blood.[19]  Another of his duties was to perform episcopal rites in churches which the pope has specially excepted from the supervision of the bishop. In we meet him again at St. Paul's to consecrate a new bell. In the following year he died and was buried among his brethren of the . The Black Friar, archbishop Kilwardby, has already been mentioned. The pride of the friars increased with years. Their learning soon gave place to mere pedantry. Their credit with the people declined. But their churches only grew more and more magnificent, and this lengthened notice of them is justified because, though they must have been among the most prominent architectural features of the city, they have now so utterly disappeared.

But far above all competitors within the boundaries of the city rose the new fabric of the cathedral church.

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The pavement was laid down in , and the spire finished with its cross and pommel within three years more. [20] Though it was not built of stone, but of timber covered with lead, this steeple must have presented a magnificent appearance. It rose, according to contemporary authority, to the extraordinary height of 520 feet:- "The height of the stone fabric of the belfry of the same church contains from the level ground cclx feet. The height of the wooden fabric of the same belfry contains cclxxiiij feet. But altogether it does not exceed five hundred and xxty feet. Also the ball of the same belfry is capable of containing, if it were vacant, ten bushels of corn; the rotundity of which contains xxxvj inches of diameter, which make three feet; the surface of which, if it were perfectly round, ought to contain four thousand lxviij inches, which make xxviij square feet and the fourth part of one square foot. The staff of the cross of the same belfrey contains in height xv feet, the cross beam being vj feet."[21]  The Londoners were justly proud of their cathedral church, which must have cost vast sums. The contemporary chronicles contain frequent entries as to the completion of various parts, the translation of the bodies of the saints to their new tombs, the dedication of altars, the reception of

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precious relics and the consecration of bells. Round about the church was the precinct wall pierced by six gates, of which the chief opened upon Ludgate Hill, affording therefore a measure for the eye of the visitor approaching from the west, and perhaps framing as in a picture the noble front of the church itself. At the northwestern corner was the house of the bishop. On the south side was the chapter-house, the scene of so many events of historical importance in the history of our city. Though the citizens still claimed the right to assemble in their folkmote at the eastern end of the churchyard, where the wall and a gate only intervened between it and the wider expanse of the Cheap, the old open space had gradually been encroached upon, and in spite of protests and even an action at law, was so reduced as to be useless for its former purpose.[22] 

 

When the first foundations of the new and glorious fabric of the cathedral church were laid, after the great fire of 1O87, the Cheap was covered only with the tents and booths of the market-people. When it was finished, and the spire had received its "pommel and cross," in , houses crowded round the precincts, the open space of Cheap was confined to a mere field near Bow Church, the vacant ground on the north was occupied by the church and house of the Franciscans, and only a little space, just about the bishop's " palace " and the so-called " Pardon Churchyard," were cultivated as gardens. In a fruiterer who was gathering nuts in what is now London House Yard fell from the tree and was killed.[23]  The king's coroner deeply offended the

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susceptibilities of the dean and chapter by holding an inquest in the bishop's hall, within their sacred precincts. The chapel of the Holy Ghost stood on the same side, and in Pardon Churchyard was an old Norman building erected by Gilbert Becket, the portreeve, with a cloister, in which the Dance of Death was painted. A little to the eastward and near the gate into Cheap stood a temporary pulpit, sometimes used for sermons by popular preachers, and sometimes, as at the death of . for proclamations to the people. The church itself had grown so much that two parish churches, St. Faith's and St. Gregory's, were both absorbed. The modern St. Paul's stands within the boundaries of St. Gregory's, though itself "extra-parochial," except the north aisle of the choir, which is in St. Faith's. The church was demolished about to make room for the completion of the east end of the cathedral, and parishioners worshipped in a portion of the crypt assigned to them and beautifully fitted up. St. Gregory's was built close to the western entrance, at the south side, and probably served as a foil or measure to the main building. In very mistaken taste, it was pulled down during the repairs and "beautifications" of St. Paul's carried out under the superintendence of Inigo Jones.

 

The number of priests attached to the service of this immense church, with all its chantries and altars, was reckoned at upwards of one hundred when the celebration of masses was abolished at the Reformation. Of these, the officers on the establishment, [24] so to speak, were the dean, subdean, four archdeacons, treasurer, sacrist, with his three vergers, precentor, chancellor, thirty canons, now called prebendaries, and twelve minor canons. This vast body subsists, in name at least, to this day, but the

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whole constitution of the cathedral has been altered. The prebendaries, from being each lord of a well endowed manor, are almost without any emolument, four " residentiary canons," without estates, but drawing a salary from the ecclesiastical commissioners, represent the higher clergy, and occupy the pulpit. We do not so much as hear of any pulpit in the old church. Preaching was not, in the thirteenth or fourteenth century, considered at all a necessary part of the priestly office. When a sermon was wanted, some person of known eloquence, generally a friar, was called in for the purpose. To this day many old churches in our city and in the suburbs have " lectureships" attached to them, established for the most part at the time of the Puritan movement, when parishioners were dissatisfied with the mere ministrations of prayer and the sacrament.[25] 

At the close of the reign of . the see was governed by one of the most popular of the long line of prelates who had occupied London House. Sudbury, his predecessor, had somewhat favoured the doctrines of Wycliffe, and had, in an evil day for himself, sneered at the devotion of the pilgrims who assembled at the shrine of St. Thomas in Canterbury Cathedral. The words were remembered against him, no doubt, when the Kentish mob dragged him from the Tower and smote off his head, in the riots of . Six years earlier, on his advancement to the primacy, he had

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been succeeded in London by William Courtenay, who in his turn, after Sudbury's tragical end, was promoted to Canterbury. Among their predecessors in London, mention should be made of Maurice, whose daring mind planned the great church as completed; of Gilbert Foliot, who was excommunicated by archbishop Thomas, to the great indignation of the citizens, who a few years later crowded to Canterbury to worship at the tomb of the new saint ; of Richard of Ely, or FitzNeal, the first of a long line of literary bishops, and the leader of the movement which his dean, Radulphus de Diceto, carried on, and which eventually produced the great chroniclers of the thirteenth century; of Roger the Black, a patriot and legislator canonised by popular acclamation, whose shrine in the south aisle was long marked by the knees of innumerable votaries; and of the two Gravesends, uncle and nephew, the second of whom, Stephen, was hated and ill-treated for his fidelity to .[26] 

Bishop Courtenay from the first opposed the doctrines of Wycliffe, and was no sooner in possession of the see than he called a synod at St. Paul's and summoned the reformer to appear before them and give an account of himself. He came, but accompanied by John of Gaunt, who was practically regent of the realm, as the Black Prince was dead, and the king, sunk in senility, thought of nothing but the charms of Alice Perrers, who on her part was busy amassing an estate from the foolish favours of her doting lover. Courtenay saw in the Duke of the man who had driven William of Wykeham from the court, and had restored his favourite to the king. His appearance with Wycliffe did not in reality

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strengthen the reformer's case. On the contrary, when the bishop and the duke had disputed fiercely for some minutes, the shouts of the assembled citizens became so threatening that John of Gaunt withdrew, and went to his house at the Savoy. The next day, nevertheless, he ventured again into the city to dine with a certain Flemish merchant, William of Ypres, who lived by the ' side. The city mob, meanwhile, had assembled in great force at the gates of the Savoy, and were clamouring for the duke and Lord Percy, who had joined him in insulting the bishop. Wycliffe seems to have quietly retired from these tumultuous scenes. He must have perceived that the duke only took up his cause to annoy the bishop, and not from any conviction of the truth of his doctrine. News came in that the people had burst the gate and were wrecking the house. The duke and his friend left their oysters untasted, as we are told, and fled by boat to Kennington: and the bishop to whom also the tidings were brought while he was at dinner, himself went to appease the multitude, in which he at last succeeded by reminding them of the sacredness of the season, for Easter approached.

Notwithstanding Bishop Courtenay's popularity, there were occasions on which he acted against the true interests of the city. In Edward demanded an aid or subsidy from the clergy. Things were not going well in France, and money was badly wanted at home and abroad. The bishop withstood the king and the grant was refused. But old as he was Edward had his revenge. The bishop ventured to pin a papal bull relating to the Florentines to the cross of St. Paul's. It was a direct incitement to the lawless to pillage the wealthy Italian bankers and merchants. The mayor[27] 

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protested and invoked the chancellor, himself a bishop.[28]  Courtenay had put himself in danger of a " præmunire,"[29]  and only a very speedy apology saved him from the consequences.

Courtenay became archbishop on the death of the unfortunate Sudbury, and was succeeded in London by Robert de Braybrook. The Wycliffe controversy still raged, and the city had not yet recovered the tumults of . Half the house of the Hospitallers had been burnt at Clerkenwell, and the whole of the Savoy. The young king had excited a warm thrill of loyalty by his courageous conduct in Smithfield, and Walworth, who with his own hand had cut down the rebel Tyler, was still mayor. But Braybrook set himself to reform abuses, to restore ruins, to regulate services, to endow the poor priests and control the wealthy prebendaries of his church. He abolished the expenditure on gluttony, by which every new canon signalised his election. He introduced the Use of Sarum for the daily prayers. In many other ways he showed the practical turn of his mind, and after five centuries we still see traces of his work, not only in London, but in the suburbs.[30]  The college of minor canons was founded by him and obtained a charter from the king in . He cleared the nave of buyers and sellers, who, " not only men but women also," he complained, "-not only on common days, but especially on festivals,-expose their wares, as in a public market." He further threatened to excommunicate those who, throwing sticks and stones at the pigeons,

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broke the carvings, or those who, playing at ball, broke the windows. It does not, of course, follow that these latter practices went on within the church, but it is evident that the great nave had been built only to be desecrated, and that the " Paul's Walk " of which we hear so much before the fire of was a very ancient institution.

 

Meanwhile . had long belied the promise of his youth. He kept no faith with the city. He" established the very oppressive rules by which the constable of the Tower seized a toll of every boat or ship passing up the . He made the citizens repair their wall and the forts on it, and ordained an "octroi" or duty on all food brought into the city to pay for the work. These and a multitude of minor oppressions did not endear him to the populace, who had their own battle to fight with the companies. Unfortunately we have here no longer the guidance of the candid FitzThedmar: and it is barely possible to disentangle the ravelled web of city politics in the reign of . One mayor, Sir Nicholas Brember, took a prominent part in the affairs of the country at large, and seems to have been at least as worthless as any other of the king's unworthy favourites. He had participated in the suppression of Wat Tyler's rebellion, and at any rate no such mean motives were ever attributed to him as to Walworth[31]  in this matter. In the struggles of the young king for emancipation from the control, first of and afterwards of Gloucester, Brember was reckoned among the king's friends: and Richard was welcomed into the city on Sunday, November 10, ,

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by a large assembly, comprising the mayor, Nicholas Exton, and the chief citizens, all wearing the royal livery. But the "five lords " had influence in London, and when Richard's schemes were known they did not meet with favour. Gloucester was received without hesitation, and the mayor told the king that though the citizens were ready to arm against his enemies they would do nothing against his friends. Itwas afterwards alleged that Brember and others, who called themselves the king's party, endeavoured to persuade the mayor to join them in a plot against the life of Gloucester, who was to be invited to a banquet in Brember's house, and there murdered. Whether such a plot was ever concocted, and whether Richard was a party to it, are questions which cannot now be answered. We only know that Brember's position was altogether unusual, although we cannot tell to what circumstance he owed the king's favour.

The question of the day in the city was one of little importance without the walls. We saw, in the last chapter, how the companies had come to wield unbounded influence in the election of the members of the governing body. In the common councilmen were elected exclusively by the companies. The wards, and those of their inhabitants who did not happen to be free of a company, were thus excluded from power. In another change was made. The populace rose against the tyranny of the companies. The fishmongers by their monopoly made themselves especially unpopular.[32]  One poor wretch, John Constantyn, a shoemaker, went about among his neighbours counselling them to make resistance. He set the example by putting up the shutters of his shop-it was on Thursday, the 11th February-and calling upon the people to

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join him. It does not appear that any actual rioting took place, but the mayor, Brember, and the sheriffs sallied out, took Constantyn, hurried him into the Guildhall, condemned him, and without further delay cut off his head. For this act Brember obtained a special writ from the king, excusing him on account of the dangerous tendency of Constantyn's conduct. But it was evident that something must be done to appease the populace: and the election of the deliberative council was accordingly given back to the wards. At the same time, however, the choice of the electoral body was left with the companies, so that the people were no better off than before. It is evident that they obtained no power, for a fishmonger was mayor in the succeeding year. In , Brember, in order to further the schemes of Suffolk, Tresilian, and the other "king's friends," forced himself into the mayoralty. He belonged to the grocers' company, which at this time was so powerful that it boasted of sixteen aldermen among its members. In spite of this strong support, public opinion was against the king, and when Gloucester appeared at Clerkenwell with forty thousand men, the gates were opened and Brember fled, but was shortly apprehended. He was brought before the parliament with Tresilian, and though he offered to prove his innocence by wager of battle, he was tried in the ordinary way. This was on the 17th of February, , and on the 20th he was condemned, and immediately hanged at .[33] 

Bishop Braybrook seemed to have held aloof as much as possible from all interference in politics. When Richard came into the city in state in , he did not appear. The following day, however, he withstood De la Pole, the king's favourite, to the face, reproaching

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him as a malefactor already condemned and only suffered to live through the royal clemency. Richard was highly incensed, and ordered the bishop out of the room. But in , after the death of Brember and the exile of De la Pole,[34]  Braybrook joined the archbishop in a solemn service at , where Richard renewed his coronation oath. Two years later he was concerned in a transaction of peculiar importance to the city.

Richard was as extortionate as he was extravagant. The oppressions of . and ., and the vast sums they had contrived to squeeze out of London, were not forgotten. Richard resolved to try one of his ancestors' favourite devices. He sent to borrow 1000£. from the citizens. They refused the loan, and, in addition, ill-treated "a certain Lumbard" who would have given the money. John Hinde, the mayor, with his sheriffs, was summoned to Nottingham, and on his arrival arrested and locked up in Windsor Castle, the sheriffs being separated and sent, one to Wallingford and the other to Odiham. This was in May. In August, the citizens, who had found out that "the end of these things was a money matter," resolved to meet the king's demands, and it was arranged that he and his queen should visit London. The people, to the number of four hundred, went out to meet them as far as Wandsworth, and the bishop and his clergy awaited them and joined the procession at St. George's Church in . At two white horses were offered to the king and queen, in trappings of red and white with silver bells. The conduit in Cheap ran with wine, and a child, dressed as an angel, presented them with gold crowns. A "table of the Trinity," in gold, perhaps a bas-relief or an enamel, was given to Richard, and one of

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St. Anne to the queen, in honour of her name. Going on to St. Paul's, the procession was met by the choir singing to welcome them, and a solemn mass was performed before the king and queen went on to .

 

In addition to the costs of this entertainment London had to pay a fine of 10,000£., and on the 28th February following, a formal patent or charter was granted by which Richard received them back into his favour. It may readily be believed that the citizens, of whatever rank, had now lost the loyal feelings with which they had originally regarded .; and, as events proved, he was to add another example to those of . and . as showing that the favour of London was worth keeping.

Bishop Braybrook and the primate were now much exercised by the universal outbreak of "Lollardry." If we may believe a contemporary poet[35]  Richard himself made a declaration against heretics on the occasion of this visit to the city.t Courtenay had held a synod or conference at the ' in the year after Wat Tyler's rebellion, and undeterred by an earthquake which interrupted the proceedings, but which the archbishop adroitly turned in his own favour as showing that the earth would fain shake itself free from false doctrine, he had set up a White Friar at St. Paul's Cross to inveigh against Wycliffe and his " poor priests." In spite of all he could do the new doctrine spread in every direction. [36]  Oxford was leavened with it and we may be sure London was not far behind. Wycliffe had died at the end of , and

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Courtenay had been able to suppress his teaching in the university, but it only spread the more widely, like a pollarded tree. When the pulpit at St. Paul's Cross was occupied by a preacher reputed a Lollard, all the city crowded to hear him. The mayor in and the following year was more than suspected of favouring the new doctrine, and when his opponent Brember succeeded in procuring his imprisonment we may be sure the fact was not forgotten against him.[37] 

When Richard married his French bride of eight years old, the citizens, with a last effort of expiring loyalty, met the royal procession on Blackheath, and a few days later conducted the queen in state through the city, on which occasion the crowd was so great that the Prior of Tiptree was crushed to death with eight other unfortunate spectators. This ill-omened event was followed shortly afterwards by the death in his mayoralty of Adam Bamme, when the king by an exercise of illegal authority appointed a new mayor. This was the last time a king of England[38]  took the city of London "into his own hands " to use the old phrase. The mayor he thus arbitrarily appointed was none other than the famous Richard Whittington.

The remainder of this reign so far as London is concerned, was a time of deep discontent. The king's extravagance increased daily. He extorted blank charters, or as we should say " cheques" from wealthy citizens and filled them up at his royal pleasure. He borrowed money from every one who came to court, and yet he is reported to have spent 3000 marks on a single dress. The citizens, worn down with taxation, petitioned

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that there should be some lightening of their burdens, since the war with France was happily ended by the advent of the little French princess: but the king was so indignant that it was with difficulty that Braybrook and the archbishop pacified him.

Meanwhile Henry, the son of John of Gaunt, had become the idol of the people, who had forgotten their hatred of his father. In the beginning of , the old duke died at Ely Place, in Holborn,[39]  which he had hired after the destruction of the Savoy. His son was in exile. In May of the same year, Richard departed on his Irish expedition. Early in July Henry landed in Yorkshire, and hastened to London, knowing how strong his cause would be if the city favoured him. He was received with joy, and his army supplied with provisions by the citizens. When a little later he brought the wretched king a captive to the Tower, it is said that a body of respectable citizens begged that he might be put to death, but others report that only the lowest rabble wished to assassinate Richard. Henry returned from the Tower and gave thanks in St. Paul's. Braybrook was one of those who took part in Richard's deposition, in the coronation of Henry, and in the subsequent act by which the ex-king was condemned to perpetual imprisonment. All these events happened before the last year of the fourteenth century was out, and in the beginning of the following year Richard's body was brought to London, " in the state of a gentleman,"[40]  and shown to the people in St. Paul's, "that they might believe for certain that he was dead."

With the dirge for Richard, Braybrook's episcopate

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was nearly ended. Yet he survived till the autumn of , when he died, and was buried in the Lady Chapel of his cathedral. After the great fire Pepys records that the bishop's body " fell down in the tomb out of the great church into St. Fayth's." He describes the " skeleton with the flesh on," all tough and dry like spongy leather, the head turned aside, and adds, "a great man in his time and Lord Chancellor; and his skeleton now exposed to be handled and derided by some, though admired for its duration by others." The disgraceful exhibition continued till the new cathedral was built, when the body was re-interred in the crypt; where, however, no monument marks its last resting-place.[41] 

 
 
 
Footnotes:

[1] For a full and careful account of the Charterhouse, see Archdeacon Hale's paper in the ' Transactions of the London and Middlesex Archæological Society,' ii 309.

[2] See below, chapter xx.

[3] This is scarcely credible, but strictly true.

[4] The liberty of the Rolls is not reckoned in the city, that is, in the ward of Farringdon. It may, therefore, be assumed that the boundaries of the ward of Anketin de Auvergne had not been defined in 1233.

[5] See chapter vii.

[6] See chapter vi.

[7] 'Memorials of the Savoy,' p. 10. "Extra muros civitatis." In another deed, dated in 1284 (Appendix, p. 248), the phrase occurs, "extra civitatem Londoniarum." It is possible, therefore, that Temple Bar did not come into existence till the end of the century, and that it was part of the system of defence completed under Edward I .

[8] Called Searle's Place at the time of its removal.

[9] Mr. Palmer's paper will be found in the ' Reliquary,' vol. xvii.

[10] See above chapter vii.

[11] There is an interesting reference to this and other churches of the friars in a petition of the mayor, aldermen, and commonalty to Henry VIII. in 1538 ('Memorandum Relating to the Royal Hospitals,' printed in 1836) :-" May it please your grace . . . to consider that the four churches of late belonging to Grey, Black, White, and Augustine Friars, be the most ample churches within your said city, Powles only except." Of the four a part of one only has been spared till our own day, when the last remains of the old work in the church of the Augustines was obliterated under the name of restoration.

[12] A catalogue of the monuments in the Greyfriars' church, from the register of the house, is printed in ' Collectanea Topographica et Genealogica,' vol. v.

[13] The duchesses buried here were Beatrice of Brittany, daughter of Henry III ., and Eleanor, Duchess of Buckingham; the duke was John of Bourbon, who died here in captivity after the battle of Agincourt.

[14] Malcolm, iii. 331. Ten tombs and 140 gravestones were sold on this occasion. The church, or what remained of it, thus desecrated, was burnt in 1666.

[15] See preface to the 'Greyfriars' Chronicles' (Camden Society), by J. G. Nichols.

[16] Cunningham, p. 847 (ed. 1849), evidently believed that Trinity Church was that of the priory of Aldgate, of which I have spoken in a former chapter. But its history is fully detailed by Newcourt, i. 562. The author of 'Old and New London,' it need hardly be said, falls into Cunningham's error, vol. ii. p. 249.

[17] Smith, 'Topography of London,' p. 8, gives two views of the ruins finally removed after a fire in 1796. The superior of the convent is called an abbess by all the authorities. See 'Arch£ologia,' vol. xv.

[18] See paper on Austin Friars, by Hugo, London and Middlesex Society, 'Transactions,' ii. I.

[19] Stubbs, 'Chronicles,' xci.

[20] In a 'Chronicle of London,' printed by Edward Tyrrell in 1827 (from Harl. MS. 565), the dimensions of the church are given according to "a tablet hung against a column by the tomb of the Duke of Lancaster." This tablet is mentioned in Strype's Stow, but is quoted incorrectly. It is odd that Longman, in his 'Three Cathedrals' (p. 30), should have overlooked this Chronicle, which is sometimes attributed to Sir Harris Nicolas.

[21] I have thought it worth while to give this quotation from the "Chronicle" printed in 1827, as it seems to be little known, and was not referred to in some recent controversies. See Longman's 'Three Cathedrals dedicated to St. Paul.' There is a little view of this spire in the ' Annales Paulini,' edited by Mr. Stubbs in his volume of 'Chronicles' for the Rolls series, p. 277.

[22] 'Liber Custumarum,' 338, &c.

[23] 'Chronicles,' Stubbs, p xcvi. The report of this accident must have been seen by some one who, quoting it from memory, confounded it with that described above in chapter iv. as having occurred in St. Michael Paternoster.

[24] See Dr. Sparrow Simpson's 'History of Old St. Paul's,' p. 25.

[25] "It is clear from the minutes that preaching or lecturing on Sundays was not practised in the church, for in the year 1583 Mr. Shepherd offered to preach a lecture upon Tuesdays and Thursdays; but the parishioners preferred to have one on Sundays in the forenoon and on Thursdays in the night."-Parish Books of St. Margaret Lothbury, by Mr. Freshfield, in 'Archæologia,' xlv. 67. There are other notes to the same pu pose in this curious and interesting paper. See also Newcourt, i. 20, who is quite indignant, apparently, at preaching going on in the cathedral.

[26] I may refer the reader who wishes to know more of these and the other great men who filled the seat of Erkenwald to Newcourt, Dugdale, Godwin, and the history of St. Paul's by the late Dean Milman.

[27] I have not been able to make certain whether this mayor was Brember or his predecessor Ward.

[28] The bishop of St. David's, John Thoresby, afterwards of Worcester and archbishop ofYork.

[29] The statute of Præmunire was passed in 1353 to counteract the aggressions of the pope, who was then at Avignon.

[30] It was by his arrangement that St. John's, Tyburn, was removed, and St. Mary "le Bourne" built instead. See vol. ii. chapter xxi.

[31] They are set forth by Allen and others and need not be detailed here. It may be worth while to mention that the so-called dagger in the city arms is the sword of St. Paul, and has nothing to do with Walworth.

[32] Riley, 'Memorials,' p. 482.

[33] Stow (p. 190) says he was beheaded.

[34] Earl of Suffolk.

[35] ' Political Poems and Songs' (i. 282), edited by Wright for the Rolls series.

[36] Some readers will remember the curious rhyming line in Richard's epitaph at Westminster :- "Comburit hæriticos et eorum stravit amicos." ' See Green, ' History of English People,' i. 490.

[37] This imprisonment of Northampton is mentioned by Stow, but I have not succeeded in discovering particulars.

[38] Charles II. did something of the kind, but the difference is pointed out by Norton, p. 118.

[39] For an account of Ely Place, see vol. ii. chapter xx.

[40] See 'Life of Bishop Braybrook,' in London and Middlesex 'Transactions,' vol. iii.

[41] A fine brass was on the tombstone and is engraved by Dugdale. Newcourt makes some interesting remarks on the subject (p. 20):- "One thing more of mine own observation I cannot omit, which is this, viz. though the sculptures in brass were by sacrilegious hands torn away from all the tombs in the church, yet this alone, which was one of the costliest, having the bishop's effigies in brass at length engraved upon it, in his episcopal habit, and his epitaph in brass likewise inscribed about it, was left untouched, till it was buried in the ruins by that dreadful fire, notwithstanding it was the most conspicuous of any; the lord mayor and his brethren, and the greatest part of the congregation passing over it every Sunday." It would seem, therefore, as if the good bishop's memory was cherished by the citizens until then.