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    |                                                              |
    |                         L O N D O N                          |
    |                 IN THE TIME OF THE STUARTS                   |
    |                                                              |
    |  _With 116 Illustrations and a Reproduction of Ogilby’s Map  |
    |                     of London in 1677._                      |
    |                                                              |
    | “It is a mine in which the student, alike of topography      |
    | and of manners and customs, may dig and dig again with the   |
    | certainty of finding something new and interesting.”—_The    |
    | Times._                                                      |
    |                                                              |
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    | wants nothing in completeness. The records of the city and   |
    | the kingdom have been ransacked for facts and documents,     |
    | and they are marshalled with consummate skill.”—_Pall Mall   |
    | Gazette._                                                    |
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    |                         L O N D O N                          |
    |                  IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY                   |
    |                                                              |
    |  _With 104 Illustrations and a Reproduction of Rocque’s Map  |
    |                    of London in 1741–5._                     |
    |                                                              |
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    | Times._                                                      |
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    | Athenæum._                                                   |
    |                       ---------------                        |
    |                         L O N D O N                          |
    |                     IN MEDIÆVAL TIMES.  _In preparation._    |
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►The Survey of London◄

                                LONDON
                       IN THE TIME OF THE TUDORS


[Illustration: _Spooner & Co._ _Frontispiece._

QUEEN ELIZABETH (1533–1603)
From the painting by Gerard at Burleigh House.]




                                LONDON
                       IN THE TIME OF THE TUDORS

                                  BY
                           SIR WALTER BESANT

                            [Illustration]

                                LONDON
                         ADAM & CHARLES BLACK
                                 1904




                               CONTENTS

                           TUDOR SOVEREIGNS

  CHAP.                                                             PAGE

  1.  HENRY VII.                                                       3

  2.  HENRY VIII.                                                     17

  3.  EDWARD VI.                                                      45

  4.  MARY                                                            52

  5.  ELIZABETH                                                       65

  6.  THE QUEEN IN SPLENDOUR                                          85


                               RELIGION

  1.  THE DISSOLUTION AND THE MARTYRS                                109

  2.  THE PROGRESS OF THE REFORMATION                                143

  3.  SUPERSTITION                                                   162


                          ELIZABETHAN LONDON

  1.  WITH STOW                                                      171

  2.  CONTEMPORARY EVIDENCE                                          185

  3.  THE CITIZENS                                                   196


                   GOVERNMENT AND TRADE OF THE CITY

  1.  THE MAYOR                                                      209

  2.  TRADE                                                          216

  3.  LITERATURE AND ART                                             244

  4.  GOG AND MAGOG                                                  263


                              SOCIAL LIFE

  1.  MANNERS AND CUSTOMS                                            269

  2.  FOOD AND DRINK                                                 292

  3.  DRESS—WEDDINGS                                                 303

  4.  SOLDIERS                                                       316

  5.  THE ’PRENTICE                                                  323

  6.  THE LONDON INNS                                                333

  7.  THEATRES AND SPORTS                                            342

  8.  THE POOR                                                       366

  9.  CRIME AND PUNISHMENT                                           379


  APPENDICES                                                         397


  INDEX                                                              421




                             ILLUSTRATIONS


                                                                    PAGE

Queen Elizabeth                                           _Frontispiece_

Henry VII.                                                             3

Perkin Warbeck                                                         7

Katherine of Aragon and Arthur, Prince of Wales                       10

The Exchequer in the time of Henry VII.                               11

The Children of King Henry VII.                         _Facing page_ 12

Screen in Henry VII.’s Chapel, Westminster Abbey                      14

Interior of Henry VII.’s Chapel, Westminster Abbey                    15

Henry VIII. when young                                                17

Henry VIII.                                                           18

Katherine of Aragon                                                   19

Henry VIII. as a Musician                                             22

Cardinal Wolsey                                                       25

Eastcheap Market                                                      27

The King in Parliament                                                29

Henry VIII. granting the Barber-Surgeons’ Charter                     31

The Burning of Anne Askew                                             33

Dean Colet                                                            34

Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex                                        35

Dean Colet’s House, Stepney                                           36

A Procession                                                          37

Henry VIII., Princess Mary, and Will Somers             _Facing page_ 38

Embarkation of Henry VIII. at Dover                                   41

Edward VI.                                                            45

Edward VI. (three-quarter length)                                     47

Edward VI. granting Charter to Bridewell                _Facing page_ 48

The Coronation Procession of Edward VI.                               50

Mary Tudor                                                            52

Lady Jane Grey                                                        55

St. Peter ad Vincula, overlooking Tower Green                         57

Execution of Lady Jane Grey                             _Facing page_ 58

The Persecution of John Bradford                                      60

The Martyrdom of John Bradford                                        60

Interior of the Bell Tower                                            61

Philip II. of Spain                                     _Facing page_ 62

Queen Elizabeth                                                       65

Queen Elizabeth                                                       67

_Feus de Joye_ in honour of Queen Elizabeth’s Entry into London       69

Queen Elizabeth                                                       71

Queen Elizabeth                                                       72

Queen Elizabeth (full length)                                         73

Sir Philip Sidney and his brother Lord Lisle                          75

The Spanish Armada (the first engagement)               _Facing page_ 76

View of the House of Peers                                            79

Lord Burghley                                                         81

Hampton Court                                                         85

Nonsuch House                                                         89

Coaches of Queen Elizabeth                                            91

Royal Procession to St. Paul’s                                        93

Queen Elizabeth going in Procession to St. Paul’s       _Facing page_ 94

The Tower                                                             97

Westminster                                                           98

A Hunting Scene                                                      101

Queen Elizabeth’s Funeral                              _Facing page_ 102

The Palace of Greenwich                                              104

Queen Elizabeth                                                      105

Carthusian Martyrs                                                   113

Sir Thomas More                                                      115

Martyrs at Smithfield                                                121

Westminster Abbey                                                    123

Bishop Gardiner                                                      125

Queen Elizabeth at Prayer                                            129

Protestant Prisoners                                                 133

Hugh Latimer                                                         134

Bishop Ridley                                                        135

Thomas Cranmer                                                       137

The Burning of John Rogers                                           139

The Martyrdom of Archbishop Cranmer                                  141

Queen Elizabeth’s Tomb                                               147

Popish Plots and Treasons                     _Facing pages_ 148 and 149

Knight seizing an Archbishop                                         149

A Royal Picnic                                                       153

Old St. Paul’s                                                       157

The Tower of London                                                  173

Cloisters of St. Katherine’s                                         175

St. Paul’s Church                                                    177

Latimer preaching before Edward VI. at Westminster                   178

Baynard’s Castle                                                     179

West Cheap in Elizabethan London                                     182

Cold Harbour                                                         184

Bridewell Palace and Entrance to the Fleet River                     186

Londinium Feracissimi Angliae Regni Metropolis                       187

Plan of the City of Westminster                                      189

Plan of the City of London in the time of Elizabeth                  189

Parish of St. Giles in the Fields            _Between pages_ 190 and 191

Bishopsgate                                                          192

Plan of Islington                                                    193

Earl of Somerset and his Wife                                        196

Shop and Solar, Clare Market                                         199

Tottenham Court                                        _Facing page_ 200

Queen Elizabeth’s Bath                                               204

Mayor and Aldermen                                                   209

London Bridge                                                        213

The Custom House                                                     216

Panorama of London and Westminster           _Between pages_ 218 and 219

Sir Thomas Gresham                                                   221

Christ’s Hospital                                                    223

Sir Francis Drake                                                    226

Drake’s _Golden Hind_                                                227

A Merchant of the Steelyard                                          231

Medals struck in Commemoration of the Armada           _Facing page_ 232

Panorama of London—London Bridge             _Between pages_ 234 and 235

The Tower in 1553                                                    239

Near Paul’s Wharf                                                    241

Tradesmen of the Tudor Period                                        242

Old Temple Bar in time of James I.                                   245

Sir Francis Bacon                                                    248

William Shakespeare                                                  249

Edmund Spenser                                                       251

Ben Jonson                                                           259

Holbein                                                              261

Staple Inn, Holborn                                                  277

The More Family                                        _Facing page_ 282

A Ship of the time of Henry VIII.                                    289

Tittle-Tattle; or, the several Branches of Gossiping                 295

Marriage Feast of Sir H. Unton                                       301

Lady Hunsdon in a Farthingale                                        303

Lady in the Court of Queen Elizabeth                                 304

Noble Matron of England                                              304

English Lady of Quality                                              305

English Nobleman                                                     305

Wealthy Merchant of London                                           308

Page Boy of the time of Edward VI.                                   309

Sir William Russell                                                  310

Court of Wards and Liveries in the time of Elizabeth   _Facing page_ 310

Robert de Vere                                                       311

John Clinch, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas                       311

Sir Edward Coke, Chief Justice of the King’s Bench                   311

The Christening of Prince Arthur                                     313

Burial in the Fields                                                 314

Soldiers of the Tudor Period                                         316

Yeoman of the Guard                                                  318

A Knight in Armour                                                   319

Pikeman                                                              320

Musketeer                                                            321

Sign of the Boar’s Head, East Cheap                                  339

The Bear Garden and the Globe Theatre                                342

Bankside, Southwark, in 1648, with a view of Holland’s Leaguer
                                                       _Facing page_ 346

Panorama of London—the Tower and Greenwich   _Between pages_ 350 and 351

Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester                                     357

A Fête at Horselydown                                                361

The Dancing Picture                                                  364

The Pillory                                                          381

Engravings taken from Henry VIII.’s Armour                           383

Billingsgate                                                         385

The Cucking-Stool                                                    389




                           TUDOR SOVEREIGNS




                               CHAPTER I

                               HENRY VII


[Illustration: HENRY VII. (1457–1509)

From the painting in the National Portrait Gallery, London.]

On stepping out of the fifteenth into the sixteenth century one becomes
conscious of a change; no such change was felt in passing from the
twelfth to the thirteenth century, or from the fourteenth to the
fifteenth. The world of Henry the Sixth was the same world as that of
Edward the First; it was also the same as that of Henry the Second.
For four hundred years no sudden, perceptible, or radical change took
place either in manners and customs, language, arts, or ideas. There
had, of course, been outbreaks; there had been passionate longings for
change; men before their time, like Wyclyf, had advanced new ideas
which sprang up like grass and presently withered away; there had
been changes in religious thought, but there was no change, so far,
in religious institutions. At the beginning of the sixteenth century,
however, we who know the coming events can see the change impending,
change already begun. Whether the Bishops and Clergy, the Monks and
Friars, were also conscious of impending change, I know not. It seems
as if they must have been uneasy, as in France men were uneasy long
before the Revolution. On the other hand, Rome still loomed large
in the imagination of the world: the Rock on which the Church was
established; the Throne from which there was no appeal; the hand that
held the Keys. We have now, however, to chronicle the part, the large
part, played by London in this great century of Revolution.

After forty years of Civil War,—with murders, exactions, executions,
treacheries, and perjuries innumerable, with the ruin of trade, with
the extinction of ancient families, with the loss of all the French
conquests,—the City, no less than the country at large, welcomed the
accession of a Prince who promised order and tranquillity at least. Of
all the numerous descendants of Edward the Third who might once have
called themselves heirs to the Crown before the Duke of Richmond, there
remained but two or three. Of the Lancastrians Henry alone was left,
and his title was derived from a branch legitimised. The two brothers
of Henry V. had no children; the only son of Henry VI. was dead. On
the Yorkist side Edward’s two sons were dead; Richard’s only son was
dead; there remained the young Earl of Warwick, son of Clarence.
He was the one dangerous person at the time of Henry’s accession.
Edward Plantagenet, Earl of Warwick, was not the heir to the Yorkist
claims—this was certainly the eldest daughter of Edward the Fourth;
but he was the son of George, Duke of Clarence, and the last male
descendant of the York line. He was now fifteen years of age, and had
been kept in some kind of confinement at a place called Sheriff Hutton
Castle, in the County of York. Considering the practice of the time,
and the reputation of Richard III., one wonders at his forbearance
in not murdering the boy. Henry sent him—it was his first act after
his victory—to the Tower for better safety. Grafton[1] calls this
unfortunate Prince “the yongling borne to perpetual captivitie.” He is
said to have been a simple youth, wholly ignorant of the world. Though,
as we shall see later on, Henry found it expedient to treat this young
Prince after the manner of his time. A dead Prince can never become a
Pretender.

And no other fate was possible in the long-run for one whom
conspirators might put up at any moment as the rightful claimant of the
Crown. The unfortunate youth was only one of a long chain of possible
claimants, all of whom paid the penalty of their inheritance by death.
Among them were Edward’s infant Princes; his own father; Henry’s son,
Edward, Prince of Wales; and later on Lady Jane Grey, and Mary Queen of
Scots.

In the same castle of Sheriff Hutton, in similar confinement, was
the Lady Elizabeth, Edward the Fourth’s elder daughter, whom Richard
proposed to marry with the sanction of the Pope, his own wife, Anne,
having strangely and mysteriously come to her death. Bosworth Field put
a stop to that monstrous design. According to Grafton, the purpose of
Richard was well known to the world, and was everywhere detested and
condemned.

Henry rode to London immediately after his victory. At Shoreditch he
was received by the Mayor, Sheriffs, and Aldermen, clothed in violet
and bearing a gift of a thousand marks. He then went on to St. Paul’s
and there deposited three standards—on one was the image of St. George,
on another a “red fierie dragon beaten upon white and greene sarcenet,”
and on the third was painted “a dun cow upon yellow _tarterne_.” He
also heard a Te Deum.

Four weeks after Henry’s entrance into the City there broke out, quite
suddenly, with no previous warning, a most deadly pestilence known as
the sweating sickness. This dreadful epidemic began with a “burning
sweat that invaded the body and vexed the blood, and with a most ardent
heat infested the stomach and the head grievously.” If any person could
bear the heat and pain for twenty-four hours, he recovered, but might
have a relapse; not one in a hundred, however, of those that took the
infection survived. Within a few days it killed two Mayors, namely, Sir
Thomas Hill and Sir William Stocker; and six Aldermen. The sickness
seems to have been swifter, and more deadly while it lasted, than even
the Plague or the Epidemic of 1349. But it went away after a time as
quickly as it had appeared.

Henry’s coronation was celebrated on the 13th of October. His
predecessor had disguised the weakness of his title by the
splendour of his coronation. Henry, on the other hand, made but a
mean display—perhaps to show that he was not dependent on show or
magnificence. Stanley perceives in this absence of ostentation a kind
of acknowledgment that his title to the Crown rested more upon his
victory than his descent. This opinion seems to me wholly fanciful;
Henry would never at any moment acknowledge that his title was weak.
On the other hand, he stoutly claimed, through his mother, to be the
nearest heir in the Lancastrian line. His known dislike to ostentation
is quite a sufficient reason to account for the comparative poverty of
the Coronation show—at which, however, one new feature was introduced,
namely, the bodyguard of the King’s person, known as the Yeomen of the
Guard. The King’s belief in the strength of his own title was shown in
his treatment of the Lady Elizabeth. He had solemnly promised to marry
her; he did so in January 1486, five months after his victory; but he
was extremely loth to crown her, lest some should say that the Queen
was Queen by right, and not merely the Queen consort. The coronation of
the Queen was postponed for two years. The celebration, however, when
it did take place, was accompanied by a great deal of splendour.

The business of Lambert Simnel shows the real peril of the King’s
position. The experience of the last forty years had taught the people
a most dangerous habit. They were ready to fly to arms on the smallest
provocation. Who was Henry, “the unknown Welshman,” as Richard called
him, that he should be allowed to sit in peace upon a throne from
which three occupants had been dragged down, two by murder and one
by battle? But the occasion of the rising was ridiculous. The young
Earl of Warwick was in the Tower; it was possible to see him—Henry, in
fact, made him ride through the City for all the world to see. Yet the
followers of Lambert Simnel proclaimed that he was Edward Plantagenet,
Earl of Warwick. Lambert’s father was a joiner of Oxford; Sir Richard
Symon, a priest, was his tutor. The boy, who in 1486 was about eleven
years of age, was of handsome appearance and of naturally good manners.

After the defeat of his cause, Lambert and the priest who had done the
mischief were taken. The priest was consigned to an ecclesiastical
prison for the rest of his natural life; the boy was pardoned—they
could not execute a child—and contemptuously thrust into the King’s
kitchen as a little scullion. He afterwards rose to be one of the
King’s falconers—the only example in history of a Pretender turning
out an honest man in the end. Can we not see the people about the
Court gazing curiously upon the handsome scullion in his white jacket,
white cap, and white shoes, going to and fro upon his duties, washing
pans with zeal and scraping trenchers? The boy had a lovely face, and
manners very far beyond his station. Can we not hear them whispering
that this young man had once been as good as King, and knew what it was
to exercise royal authority?

The Earl of Warwick was still, however, allowed to live.

The King, who was magnanimous when it was politic, could also exhibit
the opposite quality on occasion. He had never found it easy to forgive
Edward’s Queen for submitting herself and her daughters to Richard
after she had consented to Henry’s attempt upon the Crown, on the
condition of his marrying the eldest. He laid the matter before his
Council, who determined that Elizabeth, late Queen, should forfeit all
her lands and possessions, and should continue for the rest of her life
in honourable confinement in the Abbey of Bermondsey. Here, in fact,
she died, not long afterwards, the second Queen who breathed her last
in that House.

One Pretender removed, another arose. Perkin Warbeck professed, as we
know, to be the younger son of Edward IV., namely, Richard, Duke of
York, who, it was pretended, had escaped from the Tower. The strange
adventures of Perkin are told in every history of England. He is
connected with that of London on three occasions. The first was after
his abortive attempt to land in Kent. The Kentish men, refusing to join
him, attacked his followers, drove some of them back to their ships,
and took prisoners a hundred and sixty men with four Captains. These
prisoners were all brought to London roped together, a curious sight
to see. Those who lived on London Bridge saw many strange sights, but
seldom anything more strange than these poor prisoners, who were not
Englishmen but aliens, thus tied together. They were all hanged, every
one: some on the seashore, where their bodies might warn other aliens
not to come filibustering into England; and the rest at Tyburn.

[Illustration: PERKIN WARBECK (1474–1499)

From a drawing in the Municipal Library, Arras.]

The Cornish Rebellion was an episode in the history of the Perkin
Warbeck business. The men of Cornwall refused to pay taxes and resolved
to march upon London. Led by Lord Audley they advanced through
Salisbury and Winchester into Kent: they were there opposed, and moved
towards London, finally lying at Blackheath. The battle that followed
was chiefly fought at the bridge at Deptford Strand. Two thousand
of the rebels were killed; fifteen hundred were taken; Lord Audley
was beheaded; two demagogues who had instigated the rising, namely,
Flammock an attorney, and Joseph a farrier, were hanged; the rest were
not pursued or punished.

The City, meantime, showed its loyalty by a loan of £4000 to the King
and by putting London into a state of defence. Six Aldermen and a
number of representatives from the Livery Companies were deputed to
attend to the City ordnance; houses built close to the wall were taken
down; the Mayor was allowed an additional twelve men, and the Sheriffs
forty serjeants and forty valets to keep the peace.

Among those appointed to guard the City gates was Alderman Fabyan the
Chronicler.

The next episode in Perkin’s career which touches London is that ride
which he undertook, very much against his will, from Westminster to the
Tower. Everybody knows how he gave himself up to the Prior of Shene.
The King granted him his life, but he imposed certain conditions. He
was placed in the stocks opposite the entrance to Westminster Hall,
where he sat the whole day long, receiving “innumerable reproaches,
mocks and scornings.” The day after he was carried through London
on horseback, in sham triumph. They were ingenious in those days in
their methods of putting offenders to open shame. At an earlier date
the traitor Turberville had to ride in shameful guise; and when Lord
Audley, Captain of the Cornish Rebels, was led out to execution, he
was attired in a paper robe painted with his arms, the robe being
slashed and torn. No doubt Perkin was handsomely attired in coloured
paper, with a tinsel crown upon his head; no doubt, too, he bestrode
a villainous hack, while all the ’prentices of London ran after him,
laughing and mocking. They placed him on a scaffold by the Standard in
Chepe and kept him there all day long. In the course of the day he read
aloud his own confession, which is a very curious document.

  “First it is to be knowne, that I was borne in the towne of Turneie
  in Flanders, and my father’s name is John Osbecke, which said
  John Osbecke was controller of the said towne of Turneie, and my
  moother’s name is Katherine de Faro ... againste my will they
  made me to learn Englishe and taught me what I shoulde do or say.
  And after this they called me Duke of Yorke.... And upon this the
  said Water, Stephen Poitron, John Tiler, Hubert Burgh, with manie
  others, as the aforesaid earles, entered into this false quarrell.
  And within short time after the French king sent an ambassador into
  Ireland, whose name was Loit Lucas, and maister Stephen Friham, to
  advertise me to come into France. And thense I went into France,
  and from thense into Flanders, and from Flanders into Ireland, and
  from Ireland into Scotland and so into England.” (Grafton.)

The last occasion of his public appearance was on the day when he was
hanged. After his two days’ enjoyment of pillory he was taken to the
Tower and was contemptuously told that he would have to end his days
there in confinement. Here he soon brought an end upon himself. He
found in the Tower the young Earl of Warwick, who, as we have seen,
was a very simple young man. Perhaps Perkin understood very well that,
even if his own pretensions were hopelessly discredited, with the
real Earl of Warwick, Clarence’s undoubted son, grandson of the great
Earl, the last male representative of the House of York, there would
be the chance of a far greater rising than either Simnel’s or his own.
He was already sick of prison; the chances of a rising seemed worth
taking, with all its perils and dangers; he was probably desperate and
reckless. He accordingly bribed his keepers with promises to connive at
the escape of the Earl and himself. One has an instinctive feeling that
they only pretended to connive; that the course of the plot was daily
communicated to the Governor of the Tower, and by him to the King;
that the wretched man was encouraged and urged on in order to give an
opening for the greatly desired destruction of the Earl as well as his
own. However that may be, in the end Perkin and a fellow-conspirator,
one John Atwater, were placed on hurdles and drawn to Tyburn, where
they received the attentions reserved for traitors. Perkin died, it is
said, confessing his guilt. Guilty or not guilty, it was a convenient
way of ridding the King not only of an impudent pretender, but also
of a dangerous rival. Edward Plantagenet was beheaded on Tower Hill:
his end is said to have been suggested by the King of Spain before the
betrothal of Prince Arthur to Katherine of Aragon. It was sixteen years
after his accession that Henry caused the unlucky youth to be beheaded;
and now no rival was left to disturb the security of Henry’s crown.

There was, however, still a third personation, passed over by most
historians, this time by a native of London. The new Pretender was
named Ralph Wilford, the son of a shoemaker. He fell into the hands
of a scoundrel named Patrick, an Augustine friar, who taught him what
to say and how to say it. The two began to go about the country in
Kent, and to whisper among the simple country folk the same story that
Lambert Simnel had told. This lad was none other than the Earl of
Warwick. When the friar found that the thing was receiving, here and
there, a little credence, he began to back up the boy, and even went
into the pulpit and preached on the subject. But this time the matter
was not allowed to get to a head. There was no rebellion: both the
rebels were arrested, the young man was hanged at St. Thomas Waterings,
and the friar was put into prison for the rest of his natural life.

In the year 1500 was a “great death” in London and in other parts.
The “great death” was due to an outbreak of plague; not the sweating
sickness, which also returned later, but apparently some form of the
old plague, the “Black Death.” It is one of the many visitations which
fell upon the City, afflicted it for a time, filled the churchyards
with dead bodies, then passed away and was forgotten. Twenty thousand
persons, according to Fabyan, were carried off in London alone. The
King retired to Calais till the worst was over.

On the 14th November 1501, Prince Arthur, then a little over fifteen
years of age, was married to Katherine of Aragon, who was then three
years older. They were married in St. Paul’s Cathedral. Holinshed says
that a long stage was erected, 6 feet high, leading from the west doors
to the Choir; that at the end was raised a Mount on which there was
room for eight persons, with steps to go up and down; and that on this
platform stood the King and Queen and the bridegroom, and on it also
the Mayor and Aldermen were allowed a place.

[Illustration: KATHERINE OF ARAGON AND ARTHUR, PRINCE OF WALES

C. Butler’s Collection.]

After the ceremony a splendid feast was held, with dancing and
disguisings. Holinshed concludes his account of the wedding by an
anecdote which, if true, proves that the Princess was truly the wife of
Arthur. The day after, the Royal party went to Westminster, where there
were tournaments and great rejoicings. The Prince died five months
afterwards. Another royal wedding, held on the 25th January 1502,
caused even greater rejoicing. It was that of the Princess Margaret
with the King of Scotland; a marriage which promised peace and goodwill
between the two nations; a promise which has been fulfilled in a manner
unexpected, by the failure of the male line of Tudors. One observes
how strong the desire of Henry VII. was to conciliate the goodwill
of London. He borrowed money from the City over and over again, but
he always repaid these loans. The exactions that we find recorded
are chiefly those of his old age—when he was fifty-two years of age,
which was old for that time, when he had grown covetous. He could be
ostentatious when show was wanted, witness the marriage of Prince
Arthur with Katherine. He could also entertain with regal splendour,
witness the Christmas cheer he offered to the Mayor and Aldermen.

  “Henry VII., in the ninth Year of his Reign, holding his Feast
  of Christmas at Westminster, on the twelfth Day, feasted Ralph
  Anstry, then Mayor of London, and his Brethren the Aldermen, with
  other Commoners in great number; and, after Dinner, dubbing the
  Mayor Knight, caused him with his Brethren to stay and behold the
  Disguisings and other Disports in the Night following, shewed in
  the great Hall, which was richly hanged with Arras, and staged
  about on both sides; which Disports being ended, in the Morning,
  the King, the Queen, the Embassadors, and other Estates, being set
  at a Table of Stone, sixty knights and esquires served sixty Dishes
  to the King’s Mess, and as many to the Queen’s (neither Flesh nor
  Fish), and served the Mayor with twenty-four Dishes to his Mess,
  of the same manner, with sundry Wines in most plenteous wise. And,
  finally, the King and Queen being conveyed, with great Lights, into
  the Palace, the Mayor, with his Company, in Barges, returned and
  came to London by Break of the next day.” (Maitland, vol. i. p.
  218.)

[Illustration: THE EXCHEQUER IN THE TIME OF HENRY VII.

From a print in the British Museum.]

Henry VII. was respected and feared, rather than loved. He kept his
word; if he borrowed he paid back; he was not savage or murderous;
and he was a great lover of the fine arts. But the chief glory of his
reign is that he enforced order throughout the realm: it is his chief
glory, because order is a most difficult thing to enforce at a time
when the people have been flying to arms on every possible occasion
for forty years. In the rising of Lambert Simnel; in that of Perkin
Warbeck; in the strange determination of the Cornishmen to march upon
London,—one can see the natural result of a long civil war. Men become,
very easily, ready to refer everything to the arbitration of battle;
in such arbitration anything may happen. It was such arbitration that
set Edward up and pulled Henry down, and then reversed the arrangement.
It was such arbitration that placed the crown on Henry Tudor’s head.
Why should not young Perkin step into a throne as Richard, Duke of
York? Henry accepted the arbitrament of battle, defeated his rival, and
dispersed the rebel armies one after the other. One would think that
the spirit of rebellion would be quickly daunted by so many reverses.
It was not so; for nearly a hundred years later there were rebellions.
They broke out again and again: the people could not lose that trick of
flying to arms; the barons could not understand that their power was
gone; the memory still survived of princes dragged down, and princes
set up, as Fortune turned the way of Victory.

Henry, like all the Tudors, was arbitrary: he had no intention of being
ruled by the City; by his agents Empson and Dudley he levied fines
right and left upon the wealthier merchants; he put the Mayor and the
Sheriffs in the Marshalsea on a trumped-up charge, and they had to pay
a fine of £1400 before he would let them out. He seized Christopher
Hawes, Alderman, and put him also in prison, but the poor man died of
terror and grief. He imprisoned William Capel, Alderman, who refused
to pay a fine of £2000 for his liberty, and remained in prison till
the King died. Lawrence Aylmer, ex-Mayor, was also imprisoned in the
Compter, where he remained till the King’s death. Henry understood very
clearly that with a full Treasury many things are possible that are
impossible with empty coffers. He accumulated, therefore, a tremendous
hoard: it is said to have amounted to one million eight hundred
thousand pounds in money, plate, and jewels.

The events which belong especially to London in this reign, as we
have seen, were not numerous, nor were they of enduring importance.
As regards building, the King pulled down a chapel and a house—the
house where Chaucer once lived—at the west end of Westminster Abbey,
and built the Chapel called after his name; the Cross of Westchepe
was finished and put up; Baynard’s Castle was rebuilt, “not after the
former manner with embellishments and Towers,” but more convenient. It
was the time when the castle was passing into the country house; it
became now a large and handsome palace, built round two courts facing
the river, much like those palaces built along the Strand, but without
any garden except the courts.

[Illustration: _Three Children of K. Henry VII  and Elizabeth his
Queen.

I. Prince Arthur II. P^r. Henry III. P^s. Margaret

From the Royal Collection at Kensington Palace.

From E. Gardner’s Collection. _p. 12._]

The City showed more than its usual jealousy of strangers when in
1486 it passed an Ordinance that “no apprentice should be taken nor
Freedom given, but to such as were gentlemen born, agreeable to the
clause in the oath given to every Freeman at the time he was made
Free.”... “You shall take no Apprentice but if he be free born.”
These are Maitland’s words. The statement is surely absurd. For
suppose such a regulation to hold good for the wholesale distributing
Companies, how could it be sustained in the case of the Craft
Companies? Did a gentleman’s son ever become a working blacksmith or
a journeyman saddler? Another kind of jealousy was shown by the City
when they passed an Act which prohibited any citizen under penalty
of £100 (one-third to be given the Informer) for taking any goods or
merchandise to any Fair or Market within the Kingdom, for the term of
seven years. What did it mean? That the country merchants should come
to London for their wares? Parliament set aside this Regulation the
following year.

A sanitary edict was passed to the effect that no animals should be
killed within the City. There is no information as to the length of
time that this edict was obeyed, if it were ever obeyed at all.

In 1503 the King showed his opinion of the authority of the City
when he granted a Charter to the Company of Merchant Taylors which
practically placed them outside the jurisdiction of the Mayor. Some of
the other Companies, perceiving that, if this new independence were
granted everywhere, there would be an end of the City, joined in a
petition to Parliament for placing them formally under the authority of
the Mayor and Aldermen. The City got a Charter from the King in 1505.
The Charter, which cost 5000 marks, was especially levelled against
recent encroachments of foreigners in buying and selling, and was drawn
up to the same effect, and partly in the same words, as the Fifth and
last Charter of King Edward the Third. Thus the conclusion of Edward’s
Charter was as follows:—

  “We ... have granted to the said Mayor, etc., that no strangers
  shall from henceforth sell any Wares in the same City or Suburbs
  thereof by Retail, nor shall keep any House, nor be any Broker in
  the said City or Suburbs thereof, saving always the merchants of
  High Almaine, etc.”

Henry’s Charter was as follows:—

  “That of all Time, of which the Memory of Man is not to the
  contrary, for the Commonweal of the Realm and City aforesaid,
  it hath been used, and by Authority of Parliament approved and
  confirmed, that no Stranger from the Liberty of the City may buy or
  sell, from any Stranger from the Liberties of the same City, any
  Merchandize or Wares within the Liberties of the same City, upon
  Forfeiture of the same.”

A curious story of this reign relates how the King, to use a homely
proverb, cut off his nose to spite his face. For the conduct of
Margaret, Duchess of Burgundy, in acknowledging the Pretender, so
incensed him against the Flemings that he banished them all. No doubt
he inflicted hardship upon the Flemings, but he also—which he had not
intended—deprived the Merchant Adventurers of London of their principal
trade. The Hanseatic Merchants, perceiving the possible advantage
to themselves, imported vast quantities of Flemish produce. Then
the ’prentices rose and broke into the _Gildhalla Teutonicorum_—the
Steelyard—pillaging the rooms and warehouses. There was a free fight in
Thames Street, and after a time the rioters were dispersed. Some were
taken prisoners and a few hanged. As nothing more is said about the
Flemings, one supposes that they all came back again.

[Illustration: SCREEN IN HENRY VII.’s CHAPEL, WESTMINSTER ABBEY

E. Gardner’s Collection.]

There had been grave complaints about the perjuries of Juries in the
City. The Jurymen took bribes to favour one cause or the other. It was
therefore enacted:—

  “That, for the future, no Person or Persons be impannelled or sworn
  into any jury or Inquest in any of the City Courts, unless he be
  worth forty Marks; and if the Cause to be tried amount to that Sum,
  then no Person shall be admitted as a Juror worth less than one
  hundred Marks; and every Person so qualified, refusing to serve
  as a Juryman, for the first Default to forfeit one Shilling, the
  second two, and every one after to double the Sum, for the Use of
  the City.”

  “And when upon Trial it shall be found, that a Petty Jury have
  brought in an unjust Verdict, then every Member of the same to
  Forfeit twenty pounds, or more, according to the Discretion of the
  Court of Lord-Mayor and Aldermen; and also each Person so offending
  to suffer six Months’ imprisonment, or less, at the Discretion of
  the said Mayor and Aldermen, without Bail or Mainprize, and for
  ever after to be rendered incapable of serving in any jury.”

  “And if upon Enquiry it be found, that any Juror has taken Money as
  a Bribe, or other Reward, or Promise of Reward, to favour either
  Plaintiff or Defendant in the Cause to be tried by him then, and
  in every such case, the Person so offending to forfeit and pay to
  the Party by him thus injured ten times the Value of such Sum or
  Reward by him taken, and also to suffer imprisonment as already
  mentioned, and besides, to be disabled from ever serving in that
  Capacity; and that every Person or Persons guilty of bribing any
  Juror, shall likewise forfeit ten times the value given, and suffer
  imprisonment as aforesaid.” (Maitland, vol. i. p. 219.)

[Illustration: INTERIOR OF HENRY VII.’s CHAPEL, WESTMINSTER ABBEY

E. Gardner’s Collection.]

Fortifications commanding roads and approaches to the City were erected
in the year 1496, especially on the south side, in order to defend the
City against the Cornish rebels. It is quite possible that some of
them remained, and that some of the supposed works of 1642 were only a
restoration or a rebuilding of forts and bastions on the same places.

In the year 1498 many gardens in Finsbury Fields were thrown into a
spacious Field for the use of the London Archers or Trained bands. This
field is now the Artillery Ground with Bunhill Fields Cemetery. In 1501
the Lord Mayor erected Kitchens and Offices in the Guildhall, by means
of which he entertained the Aldermen and the principal citizens.

Towards the end of his reign, the King, finding himself afflicted with
an incurable disease, took steps in the nature of atonement for his
sins. He issued a general pardon to all men for offences committed
against his laws—thieves, murderers, and certain others excepted. He
paid the fees of prisoners who were kept in gaol for want of money to
discharge their fees; he also paid the debts of all those who were
confined in the “counters” of Ludgate, _i.e._ the free men of the City,
for sums of forty shillings and under; and some he relieved that were
confined for as much as ten pounds. “Hereupon,” says Holinshed, “there
were processions daily in every City and parish to pray to Almighty God
for his restoring to health and long continuance in the same.” But in
vain; for the disease continued and the King died.

Here is a note on the first visit of Henry the Eighth to the City:—

  “Prince Henry, who afterwards succeeded his father on the throne
  as King Henry VIII., but was at the time a child of seven years,
  paid a visit to the City (30 Oct. 1498), where he received a hearty
  welcome, and was presented by the Recorder, on behalf of the
  citizens, with a pair of gilt goblets. In reply to the Recorder,
  who in presenting this ‘litell and powre’ gift, promised to
  remember his grace with a better at some future time, the prince
  made the following short speech:—

  ‘Fader Maire, I thank you and your Brethren here present of this
  greate and kynd remembraunce which I trist in tyme comyng to
  deserve. And for asmoche as I can not give unto you according
  thankes, I shall pray the Kynges Grace to thank you, and for my
  partye I shall not forget yor kyndnesse.’” (Sharpe, _London and the
  Kingdom_, vol. i. p. 334.)

The funeral of the King was most sumptuous.

  “His corpse was conveyed from Richmond to St. Paul’s on the 9th
  May, being met on its way at St. George’s Bar, in Southwark,
  by the mayor, aldermen, and a suite of 104 commoners, all in
  black clothing and all on horseback. The streets were lined with
  other members of the companies bearing torches, the lowest craft
  occupying the first place. Next after the freemen of the city came
  the ‘strangers’—Easterlings, Frenchmen, Spaniards, Venetians,
  Genoese, Florentines and ‘Lukeners’—on horseback and on foot,
  also bearing torches. These took up their position in Gracechurch
  Street. Cornhill was occupied by the lower crafts, ordered in such
  a way that ‘the most worshipful crafts’ stood next unto ‘Paules.’
  A similar order was preserved the next day, when the corpse was
  removed from Saint Paul’s to Westminster. The lowest crafts were
  placed nearest to the Cathedral, and the most worshipful next
  to Temple Bar, where the civic escort terminated. The mayor and
  aldermen proceeded to Westminster by water, to attend the ‘masse
  and offering.’ The mayor, with his mace in his hand, made his
  offering next after the Lord Chamberlain; those aldermen who had
  passed the chair offered next after the Knights of the Garter, and
  before all ‘knights for the body’; whilst the aldermen who had
  not yet served as mayor made their offering after the knights.”
  (_Ibid._ p. 341.)




                              CHAPTER II

                              HENRY VIII


[Illustration: _Spooner & Co._

HENRY VIII. WHEN YOUNG (1491–1547)

From a portrait by Holbein.]

London has now changed its character: the old quarrels and rivalries of
Baron, Alderman, or Lord of the Manor with merchant, of merchant with
craftsman, of master with servant, have ceased. The Lord of the Manor
has disappeared in the City; the craft companies have at last gained
their share in the government of the City, but, so far to their own
advantage, they are entirely ruled by the employers and masters who
belong to them, so that the craftsmen themselves are no better off than
before. The authority of the King over the City is greater now than
at any preceding time, but it will be restrained in the future not so
much by charters, by bribes and gifts, as by the power of the Commons.
The trade of the City, which had so grievously suffered by the Civil
wars, is reviving again under the peace and order of the Tudor Princes,
though it will be once more injured by the religious dissensions.
Lastly, the City, like the rest of the country, is already feeling the
restlessness that belongs to a period of change. At Henry’s accession,
men were beginning to be conscious of a larger world: wider thoughts
possessed them; the old learning, the old Arts, were rising again from
the grave; the crystallised institutions, hitherto fondly thought to
be an essential part of religion, were ready to be broken up. Even the
most narrow City merchant, whose heart was in his money-bags, whose
soul was to be saved by a trental of masses, an anniversary, or a
chantry, felt the uneasiness of the time, and yearned for a simpler
Faith as well as for wider markets across the newly-traversed seas.
I propose to consider the events of this reign, which were of such
vast importance to London as well as the country at large, by subjects
instead of in chronological order as hitherto.

[Illustration: HENRY VIII. (1491–1547)

From the portrait by Holbein in Windsor Castle.]

[Illustration: KATHERINE OF ARAGON (1485–1536)

From the painting in the National Portrait Gallery, London.]

And I will first take the relations of the City and the King.

They began with a manifest desire of the young King to conciliate
the City. Evidently in answer to some petition or representation, he
banished all “foreign” beggars, _i.e._ those who were not natives of
London; and ordered them to return to their own parishes. It is easy
to understand what happened: the “foreign” beggars, in obedience to
the proclamation, retired to their holes and corners; the streets were
free from them for some days; the Mayor and Sheriffs congratulated
themselves; then after a decent interval, and gradually, the beggars
ventured out again. The difficulty, in a word, of dealing with rogues
and vagrants and masterless men was already overwhelming. In the time
of Elizabeth it became a real, a threatening, danger to the town. We
must remember that one effect of a long war, especially a civil war,
which calls out a much larger proportion of the people than a foreign
war, is to throw upon the roads, at the close of it, a vast number of
those who have tasted the joys of idleness and henceforth will not
work. They would rather be flogged and hanged than work. They cannot
work. They have forgotten how to work. They rob on the high road; they
murder in the remote farm-houses; in the winter, and when they grow
old, they make for the towns, and they beg in the streets. However,
Henry greatly pleased the City by his order, and for a time there was
improvement. He then took a much more important step towards winning
the affection of the City. He committed Empson and Dudley to the Tower.
They were accused of a conspiracy against the Government—in reality
they had been the approved agents of the late King; but this it would
have been inconvenient to confess. They were therefore found guilty
and executed—these unfortunately too willing tools of a rapacious
sovereign. Henry offered restitution to all who had suffered at their
hands. It was found on subsequent inquiry that six men, all of whom had
been struck off the lists for perjury, had managed to get replaced, and
had been busy at work for Empson and Dudley in raking up false charges
against Aldermen or in taking bribes for concealing offences. These
persons, as being servants and not principals, were treated leniently.
They were set in pillory, and then driven out of the City.

The loyalty of the City showed itself on the day of the Coronation when
the King, with his newly married Queen, rode in magnificent procession
from the Tower to Westminster, where the Crowning was performed with a
splendour which surpassed that of all previous occasions.

On St. John’s Eve 1510 the King, disguised as one of his own yeomen,
went into the City in order to witness the finest show of the year, the
procession of the City Watch. He was so well pleased with the sight
that on St. Peter’s Eve following he brought his Queen and Court to
Cheapside to see the procession again:—

  “The March was begun by the City musick, followed by the
  Lord-Mayor’s officers in Party-coloured Liveries; then the
  Sword-Bearer on Horseback, in beautiful Armour, preceded the
  Lord-Mayor, mounted on a stately Horse richly trapped, attended
  by a Giant, and two Pages on Horseback, three Pageants,
  Morrice-dancers, and Footmen; next came the Sheriffs, preceded by
  their Officers, and attended by their Giants, Pages, Pageants,
  and Morrice-Dancers. Then marched a great body of Demi-Lancers,
  in bright Armour, on stately Horses; next followed a Body of
  Carabineers, in white Fustian Coats, with a symbol of the City Arms
  on their Backs and Breasts; then marched a Division of Archers,
  with their Bows bent, and Shafts of Arrows by their Side; next
  followed a Party of Pikemen in their Corslets and Helmets; after
  them a Body of Halberdeers in Corslets and Helmets; and the March
  was closed by a great Party of Billmen, with Helmets and Aprons of
  Mail; and the whole Body, consisting of about two thousand Men,
  had between every Division a certain Number of Musicians, who were
  answered in their proper Places by the like Number of Drums, with
  Standards and Ensigns as veteran troops. This nocturnal March was
  illuminated by Nine hundred and forty Cressets; two hundred whereof
  were defrayed at the City Expence, five hundred at that of the
  Companies, and two hundred and forty by the City Constables. The
  March began at the Conduit at the west end of Cheapside, and passed
  through Cheapside, Cornhill, and Leadenhall Street, to Aldgate;
  whence it returned by Fenchurch Street, Gracechurch Street,
  Cornhill, and so back to the Conduit. During this March, the Houses
  on each side the said streets were decorated with Greens and
  Flowers, wrought into Garlands, and intermixed with a great number
  of Lamps.” (Maitland, vol. i. p. 222.)

There is no more pleasant page in the whole of history than that which
relates the first years of King Henry’s reign. He was young; he was
strong; he was married to a woman whom he loved; he was tall, like
his grandfather King Edward, and of goodly countenance, like his
grandmother Elizabeth Woodville; he was a lover of arts, like his
father; and of learning, like his grandmother Margaret, Countess of
Richmond; he was brave, like all his race; he was masterful, as became
a king as well as a Tudor; he was skilful in all manly exercises. Add
to all this that at the time of his accession he was the richest man
in Europe. This accomplished Prince, according to Holinshed, used,
even in his progresses, to exercise himself every day in shooting,
singing, dancing, wrestling, casting the bar, playing on the recorders,
the flute, the virginals, or writing songs and ballads and setting
them to music. His songs are principally amorous. He wrote anthems,
one of which is extant. The words are taken from the Song of Solomon
(Vulgate). His verse is melodious and pretty:—

    “O my hart and O my hart
        My hart it is so sore!
    Since I must nedys from my love depart
        And know no cause wherfore.”

Or a song of constancy:—

    “Grene grouth the holy, so doth the ivie
    Thow winter’s blastys blow never so hye.
    As the holy growith grene and never chaungyth hew
    So I am—ever hath bene—unto my lady trew.
                  Grene grouth, etc.

    As the holy grouth grene with ivie all alone
    Whose flowerys cannot be seen and grene wode levys be gone,
    Now unto my lady, promyse to her I make
    From all other only to her I me betake.
    Adew myne owne lady, adew my specyall
    Who hath my hart trewly, be sure, and ever shall.
                  Grene grouth, etc.”

And the song which became so popular, “Pastyme with good Company.” This
song was actually taken by Latimer as a text for a sermon before Edward
the Sixth:—

    “Pastyme with good companye
    I love and shall untyll I dye;
    Gruche who list—but none denye,
    So God be plesyd thus leve wyll I;
        For my Pastance
        Hunt, syng, and dance,
        My hart is sette;
        All goodly sport for my comfort
            Who shall be let?

    Youth must have some dalliance,
    Of good or yll sum pastance;
    Companye me thynkes then best
    All thoughts and fansys to dejest;
        For idleness
        Is chief mistress
        Of vices all;
        Then who can say
        But myrth and play
            Is best of all?

    Company with honeste
    Is vertu—vices to flee;
    Company is good and ill,
    But every man hath hys fre wyll;
        The best ensew,
        The worst eschew,
        My Mynde shall be
        Vertu to use,
        Vice to refuse,
            Thus shall I use me.”

[Illustration: HENRY VIII. AS A MUSICIAN

From a Royal MS. in British Museum.]

At the outset there was nothing but feasting, jousts, feats of arms,
masques, devices, pageants, and mummeries. At the feasts the King
was lavish and free of hand; at the tilting the King challenged all
and won the prize; at the masques and mummeries he was the best of
all the actors; at the dance he was the most graceful and the most
unwearied. There are long pages in contemporary history on this festive
and splendid life at the Court, when as yet all the world was young
to Henry, and no one had been executed except Empson and Dudley. The
following extract from Holinshed shows the things in which he gloried,
and the nature of a Court Pageant:—

  “Then there was a device or a pageant upon wheels brought in, out
  of the which pageant issued out a gentleman richlie apparelled,
  that shewed how in a garden of pleasure there was an arbor of gold
  wherein were lords and ladies, much desirous to shew pastime to
  the queene and ladies, if they might be licenced so to doo; who
  was answered by the queene, how she and all other there were verie
  desirous to see them and their pastime. Then a great cloth of arras
  that did hang before the same pageant was taken away, and the
  pageant brought more neere. It was curiouslie made and pleasant to
  beholde, it was solemne and rich: for every post or piller thereof
  was covered with frised gold, therein were trees of hawthorne,
  eglantine, rosiers, vines, and other pleasant floures of diverse
  colours, with gillofers, and other hearbs, all made of sattin,
  damaske, silver and gold, accordinglie as the naturall trees,
  hearbs, or floures ought to be. In this arbor were six ladies,
  all apparelled in white satin and greene, set and embrodered full
  of H. & K. of Gold, knit together with laces of gold of damaske,
  and all their garments were replenished with glittering spangels
  gilt over, on their heads are bonets all opened at the foure
  quarters overfrised with flat gold of damaske, and orrellets were
  of rolles, wreathed on lampas doucke holow, so that the gold shewed
  through the lampas doucke: the fassis of their head set full of new
  devised fashions. In this garden also was the king and five with
  him apparelled in garments of purple sattin, all of cuts with H.
  & K. everie edge garnished with frised gold, and everie garment
  full of posies, made of letters of fine gold in bullion as thicke
  as they might be, and everie person had his name in like letters
  of massie gold. The first Cureloial, the second Bon Voloire, the
  third Bon Espoir, the fourth Valiant Desire, the fifth Bon Foy,
  the sixt Amour Loial, their hosen, cape, and coats were full of
  posies, with H. & K. of fine gold in bullion, so that the ground
  could scarse appeere, and yet was in everie void place spangles of
  gold. When time was come, the said pageant was brought foorth into
  presence, and then descended a lord and a ladie by couples, and
  then the minstrels which were disguised also dansed, and the lords
  and ladies dansed, that it was a pleasure to behold. In the meane
  season the pageant was conveyed to the end of the palace, there to
  tarie till the danses were finished, and so to have received the
  lords and ladies againe: but suddenlie the rude people ran to the
  pageant, and rent, tare, and spoiled the pageant so that the lord
  steward nor the head officers could not cause them to absteine,
  except that they should have foughten and drawen blood and so was
  this pageant broken. Then the king with the queene and the ladies
  returned to his chamber, where they had a great banket, and so this
  triumph ended with mirth and gladnes.” (Holinshed, vol. iii. p.
  560.)

On the proclamation of war against France, the City was ordered to
furnish a contingent of 300 men fully armed and equipped. There seems
to have been no difficulty in getting the men. The money for their
outfit was subscribed by the Companies, who raised £405, and so the men
were despatched, clad in white with St. George’s Cross and Sword, and a
rose in front and back.

In June 1516 Cardinal Wolsey addressed an admonition to the City:
they must look to the maintenance of order; there was sedition among
them; the statute of apparel was neglected; vagabonds and masterless
men made the City their resort—an instructive commentary on the
King’s ordinances of seven years before. The sedition of which Wolsey
complained was due to the intense jealousy with which the people of
London always regarded the immigration of aliens. They were always
coming in, and the freemen—the old City families—were always dying out
or going away. In 1500, and again in 1516, orders were issued for all
freemen to return with their families to the City on pain of losing
their freedom. Had they, then, already begun the custom of living in
the suburbs and going into town every morning? The case against the
foreigners is strongly put by Grafton:—

  “In this season the Genowayes, Frenchmen and other straungers,
  sayd and boasted themselves to be in suche favor with the king and
  hys counsayle, that they set naught by the rulers of the city:
  and the multitude of straungers was so great about London, that
  the poore English artificers could scarce get any lyvyng: and
  most of al the straungers were so prowde, that they disdayned,
  mocked, and oppressed the Englishmen, which was the beginning of
  the grudge. For among all other thinges there was a carpenter in
  London called Wylliamson which boughte two stocke Doves in Chepe,
  and as he was about to pay for them, a Frenchman tooke them out
  of his hande, and sayde they were not meat for a Carpenter: well
  sayde the Englisheman I have bought them, and now payde for them,
  and therefore I will have them; nay sayde the Frenchman I will have
  them for my Lorde the Ambassador, and so for better or worse, the
  Frenchman called the Englishman knave and went away with the stock
  Doves. The straungers came to the French Ambassador, and surmised
  a complaint against the poore Carpenter, and the Ambassador came
  to my Lord Maior, and sayde so much, that the Carpenter was sent
  to prison: and yet not contented with this so complayned to the
  king’s counsayle, that the king’s commaundement was layde on him.
  And when syr John Baker and other worshipfull persons sued to
  the Ambassador for him, he aunswered by the body of God that the
  Englishe knave should loose his lyfe, for he sayde no Englisheman
  should denie what the Frenchmen requyred, and other aunswere had
  they none. Also a Frenchman that had slayne a man, should abjure
  the realme and had a crosse in his hande, and then sodainely came
  a great sort of Frenchman about him, and one of them sayde to the
  Constable that led him, syr is thys crosse the price to kill an
  Englisheman. The Constable was somewhat astonied and aunswered
  not. Then sayde another Frenchman, on that price we would be
  banished all by the masse, this saiying was noted to be spoken
  spitefully. Howbeit the Frenchmen were not alonly oppressors of the
  Englishemen, for a Lombard called Frances de Bard, entised a man’s
  wyfe in Lombarde Streete to come to his Chamber with her husband’s
  plate, which thing she did. After when her husband knew it, he
  demanded hys wife, but answere was made he should not have her;
  then he demanded his plate, and in like manner answere was made
  that he should neyther have plate nor wife. And when he had sued
  an action against the straunger in the Guyldehall, the stranger
  so faced the Englishman that he faynted in his sute. And then the
  Lombard arrested the poore man for his wyfes boord, while he kept
  her from her husband in his chamber. This mocke was much noted, and
  for these and many other oppressions done by them, there encreased
  such a malice in the Englishmen’s hartes: that at the last it brast
  out.” (Grafton’s _Chronicles_, vol. ii. p. 289.)

He goes on to relate that a certain John Lincoln, a broker, desired a
priest named Dr. Standish to move the Mayor and Aldermen at his Spital
sermon on Easter Monday to take part with the Commonalty against the
aliens. Standish refused. John Lincoln then went to a certain Dr. Bele,
Canon in St. Mary Spital, and represented the grievous case of the
people.

... “lamentably declared to him, how miserably the common artificers
lyved, and scarce could get any worke to find them, their wives and
children, for there were such a number of artificers straungers, that
toke away all their living in manner.”

Then followed the tumult known as Evil May Day. Dr. Bele preached
the Spital Sermon of Easter Tuesday. He first read Lincoln’s letter
representing the condition of the craftsmen thus oppressed by the
aliens, and then taking for his text the words, “Caelum caeli Domino
Terram autem dedit Filiis hominum”—the Heavens to the Lord of Heaven,
but the Earth hath he given to the Sons of Men—he plainly told the
people that England was their own, and that Englishmen ought to keep
their country for themselves, as birds defend their nests. Thus
encouraged, the people began to assault and molest the foreigners in
the City. Some of them were sent to Newgate for the offence; but they
continued. Then there ran about the City a rumour that on May Day
all the foreigners would be murdered, and many of them, hearing this
rumour, fled. The rumour reached the King, who ordered Cardinal Wolsey
to inquire into it. Thereupon the Mayor called together the Council.
Some were of opinion that a strong watch should be set and kept up
all night; others thought that it would be better to order every one
to be indoors from nine in the evening till nine in the morning. Both
opinions were sent to the Cardinal, who chose the latter. Accordingly
the order was proclaimed. But it was not obeyed. Some time after nine,
Alderman Sir John Mundy found a company of young men in Cheapside
playing at Bucklers. He ordered them to desist and to go home. One of
them asked why? For answer the Alderman seized him and ordered him to
be taken to the Compter. Then the tumult began. The ’prentices raised
the cry of “Clubs! Clubs!” and flocked together; the man was rescued;
the people crowded in from every quarter; they marched, a thousand
strong, to Newgate, where they took out the Lord Mayor’s prisoners, and
to the Compter, where they did the same; at St. Martin’s they broke
open doors and windows and “spoiled everything.” And they spent the
rest of the night in pulling down the houses of foreigners. When they
grew tired of this sport, they gradually broke up and went home, but on
the way the Mayor’s men arrested some three hundred of them and sent
them to the Tower. Another hundred rioters were arrested next day.
Dr. Bele was also sent to the Tower. Then began the trials. Lincoln
and some twenty or thirty others were found guilty and sentenced to
be hanged, drawn, and quartered. Ten pairs of gallows were set up in
different parts of the City for their execution. Lincoln, however, was
the only one who suffered. For the rest a reprieve was granted. Then
the affair was concluded in a becoming and solemn manner:—

  “Thursday the xxij day of May, the king came into Westminster
  Hall, for whome at the upper ende was set a cloth of estate, and
  the place hanged with arras. With him was the Cardinall, the Dukes
  of Norfolke and Suffolke, the Earles of Shrewsbury, of Essex,
  Wilshire and of Surrey, with manye Lordes and other of the kinges
  Counsale. The Maior and Aldermen, and all the chief of the City,
  were there in their best livery (according as the Cardinall had
  them appoynted) by ix of the clocke. Then the king commaunded that
  all the prisoners should be brought forth. Then came in the poore
  yonglings and olde false knaves bound in ropes all along, one after
  another in their shirtes, and every one a Halter about his necke,
  to the number of foure hundred men and xj women. And when all were
  come before the kinges presence, the Cardinall sore layd to the
  Maior and commonaltie their negligence, and to the prisoners he
  declared that they had deserved death for their offence: then all
  the prisoners together cryed mercy gracious Lorde, mercy. Then the
  Lordes altogether besought his grace of mercy, at whose request
  the king pardoned them all. And then the Cardinall gave unto them
  a good exhortation to the great gladnesse of the heerers. And when
  the generall pardon was pronounced, all the prisoners showted at
  once, and altogether cast up their Halters unto the Hall rooffe, so
  that the king might perceyve they were none of the discretest sort.
  Here is to be noted that dyvers offenders which were not taken,
  heeryng that the king was inclined to mercys, came well apparayled
  to Westminster, and sodainlye stryped them into their shirtes with
  halters, and came in among the prisoners willingly, to be partakers
  of the kinges pardon, by the which doyng, it was well knowen that
  one John Gelson yoman of the Crowne was the first that beganne to
  spoyle, and exhorted other to do the same, and because he fled and
  was not taken, he came in the rope with the other prisoners, and so
  had his pardon. This companie was after called the blacke Wagon.
  Then were all the Galowes within the Citie taken downe, and many a
  good prayer sayde for the king, and the Citizens tooke more heede
  to their servants.” (Grafton’s _Chronicles_, vol. ii. p. 294.)

[Illustration: CARDINAL WOLSEY (1471–1530)

From the painting in the National Portrait Gallery, London.]

A singular story belongs to the arrival of the French embassy charged
with negotiating the marriage of the King’s infant daughter and the
Dauphin. The ambassadors were escorted by a company of their own King’s
bodyguard and another of the English King’s bodyguard. They were met at
Blackheath by the Earl of Surrey, richly apparelled, and a hundred and
sixty gentlemen; four hundred archers followed; they were lodged in the
merchants’ houses and banqueted at Taylors’ Hall. And then, says the
historian, “the French hardermen opened their wares and made Taylors’
Hall like to the paunde of a mart. At this doing many an Englishman
grudged but it avayled not.” In other words, a lot of French hucksters,
under cover of the embassy, brought over smuggled goods and sold them
in the Taylors’ Hall at a lower price than the English makers could
afford.

The reception of the Emperor Charles by Henry in this year was as
royally magnificent as even Henry himself could desire. The procession
was like others of the same period and may be omitted.

In 1524 a curious proclamation was made by the Mayor. Evidently papers
or letters of importance had been lost.

  “My lorde the maire streihtly chargith and commaundith on the king
  or soveraigne lordis behalf that if any maner of person or persons
  that have founde a hat with certeyn lettres and other billes and
  writinges therin enclosed, which lettres been directed to our said
  sovereign from the parties of beyond the see, let hym or theym
  bryng the said hat, lettres, and writinges unto my saide lorde
  the maire in all the hast possible and they shalbe well rewarded
  for their labour, and that no maner of person kepe the said hat,
  lettres, and writinges nor noon of them after this proclamacioun
  made, uppon payn of deth, and God save the king.” (Sharpe, _London
  and the Kingdom_, vol. i. p. 373.)

[Illustration: EASTCHEAP MARKET

From an old drawing in British Museum.]

Two cases, that of Sir George Monoux and that of Paul Wythypol,
prove that the City offices were not at this time always regarded as
desirable. In the former case, Sir George Monoux, Alderman and Draper,
was elected (1523) Mayor for the second time, and refused to serve.
He was fined £1000, and it was ordained by the Court of Aldermen that
any one in future who should refuse to serve as Mayor should be fined
that amount. In this case Monoux was permitted to retire, probably on
account of ill-health. The second case, which happened in 1537, was
that of Paul Wythypol, merchant-taylor. He was a man of some position
in the City: he had been one of the Commoners sent to confer with
Wolsey on the “amicable” loan (Sharpe, _London and the Kingdom_, vol.
i. p. 377); he attended the Coronation banquet of Anne Boleyn; he was
afterwards M.P. for the City, 1529–1536. They elected him Alderman
for Farringdon Within. For some reason he was anxious not to serve;
rather than pay the fine he got the King to interfere on his behalf.
Such interference was clearly an infringement of the City liberties;
the Mayor and Aldermen consulted Wolsey, who advised them to seek an
interview with the King, then at Greenwich. This they did, and went
down to Greenwich. When they arrived they were taken into the King’s
great chamber, where they waited till evening, when the King received
them privately. What passed is not known, but in the end Wythypol
remained out of office for a year afterwards. At the end of that time
he was again elected Alderman, and was ordered to take office or to
swear that his property did not amount to £1000. He refused and was
committed to Newgate, the King no longer offering to help him. Three
weeks later he appeared before the Court and offered to pay a fine of
£40 for three years’ exemption from office. The Court refused this
offer and sent him back to prison. Three months later—Wythypol must
have been a very stubborn person—he again appeared before the Court,
and was ordered to take up office at once or else swear that his
property was not worth £1000. If he did not, he was to be fined in a
sum to be assessed by the Mayor, Aldermen, and Common Council. He did
not take office, and it is therefore tolerably certain that he paid a
heavy fine.

In the year 1529 sat the memorable Court presided over by Cardinals
Campeggio and Wolsey, which was to try the validity of Henry’s marriage
with his brother’s widow. It was held in the great hall of the
Dominican Friars. No more important case was ever tried in an English
Court of Law, nor one which had wider or deeper consequences. Upon this
case depended the national Faith; the nation’s fidelity to the Pope;
its continued adhesion to the ecclesiastical order as it had developed
during fifteen hundred years. This trial belongs to the national
history.

In October of that year (1529) the King, enraged by the Legate’s delay
in the marriage business, deprived Wolsey of the Seals, seized his
furniture and plate, and ordered him to leave London. In November
of the same year, at a Parliament held in the Palace of Bridewell,
a Bill was passed by the Lords disabling the Cardinal from being
restored to his dignities. In February 1530 Wolsey was restored to his
Archbishopric but without his palace, which the King kept for himself;
he was summoned to London on a charge of treason, but he fell ill and
died on the way.

No Englishman before or after Wolsey has ever maintained so much state
and splendour; no Englishman has ever affected the popular imagination
so much as Cardinal Wolsey. Contemporary writers exhaust themselves in
dwelling upon the more than regal Court kept up by this priest. It is
like reading of the Court of a great king. We must, however, remember,
that all this state was not the ostentation of the man so much as,
first, the glorification of the Church and of the ecclesiastical
dignities, and next, a visible proof of the greatness of the King in
having so rich a subject.

Between 1527 and 1534 there were disputes on the subject of tithes and
offerings to the clergy. At this time began the dissolution of the
Monasteries, to which we will return presently.

[Illustration: THE KING IN PARLIAMENT

From a print in the British Museum.]

So far as regards the relations between the King and the City. Let
us now return to the City itself. We have already seen that the
intervals of freedom from plague were growing shorter. In this reign
of thirty-eight years there was a return of the sweating sickness in
1518; a return of the plague, which lasted from 1519 to 1522; another
appearance of the sweating sickness in 1528; and another attack of
the plague in 1543. It seems strange that no physician should have
connected the frequency and violence of the disease with the foulness
and narrowness of the streets. From the beginning of the sixteenth
century to the Great Fire of 1666, London, crowded and confined,
abounded with courts and slums of the worst possible kind; it swarmed
with rogues and tramps and masterless men who lived as they could,
like swine. There were no great fires to cleanse the City. The
condition of the ground, with its numberless cesspools, its narrow
lanes into which, despite laws, everything was thrown; its frequent
laystalls; the refuse and remains of all the workshops; the putrefying
blood of the slaughtered beasts sinking into the earth,—must have
been truly terrible had the people realised it; but they did not.
Fluid matter sank into the earth and worked its wicked will unseen and
unsuspected; the rains washed the surface; no man saw farther than the
front of his own house; therefore when pestilence appeared among them
it did not creep, according to its ancient wont, from house to house,
but it flew swiftly with wings outspread over street and lane and court.

Steps were taken to protect and to improve the medical profession. It
was ordained in 1512 that no one should practise medicine or surgery
within the City or for seven miles outside the City walls without a
license from the Bishop of London or the Dean of St. Paul’s; the said
license only to be obtained by examination before the Bishop or the
Dean by four of the Faculty. Two years later surgeons were exempted
from serving on juries, bearing arms, or serving as constables. In 1519
the Physicians obtained a Charter of Incorporation, by which they were
allowed a common seal; to elect a President annually; to purchase and
hold land; and to govern all persons practising physic within seven
miles of London. The College of Physicians, observe, was at first only
considered as one of the City Companies: it had jurisdiction over
London and over seven miles round London, but no more. The positions of
both Physicians and Surgeons were enormously improved by these Acts of
Parliament.

There were in this reign, for the admiration of the people, an
extraordinary number of executions, both of noble lords and hapless
ladies, as well as of divines, monks, friars, gentlemen, gentlewomen,
and the common sort, for treason, heresy, and the crimes which are
the most commonly brought before the attention of justice. What reign
before this would exhibit such a list as the following? Two Queens,
Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard; of others, the Marquis of Exeter,
the Earl of Surrey, the Earl of Kildare, the Duke of Buckingham,
Lord Rochford, Lady Rochford, Lady Salisbury, Fisher, More, Empson,
Dudley, Cromwell. Of abbots, priors, monks, friars, doctors, priests,
for refusing the oath of the King’s supremacy a great number; of
lesser persons for heresy or treason another goodly company. Some
were beheaded—those were fortunate; others were burned, not being so
fortunate; the rest were drawn on hurdles, and treated in the manner we
have already seen.

The dissolution of the Religious Houses, the changes in the Articles
of Religion, and their effect upon the City of London, will be found
in another place (see p. 109). In this chapter a few cases are given
to illustrate the changes of thought and the general excitement in the
minds of men.

There is, first, the case of Lambert. He was a learned man and a
schoolmaster who denied the Real Presence in the Sacrament. The
case had been already brought before the Archbishop, who had given
a sentence against Lambert. The King, who ardently believed in the
Real Presence, announced his intention of arguing publicly with this
heretic. The argument was actually held in Westminster Hall in the
presence of a great number of people. In the end the King, apparently,
got the worst of it, for we find him becoming judge as well as
disputant, and ordering the unfortunate man to recant or burn. Lambert
would not recant—the pride and stubbornness of these heretics were
wonderful; in some cases, perhaps in this, the man stood for a party:
he would not recant for the sake of his friends as well as himself. He
was burned.

[Illustration: HENRY VIII. GRANTING THE BARBER-SURGEONS’ CHARTER

After the picture by Holbein in Barber-Surgeons’ Hall, London.]

The case of Anne Askew is remarkable for the introduction of torture,
which was then unusual either with criminals or heretics. She was so
miserably tortured—yet perhaps the torture was intended as a merciful
act, in the hope of rescuing her from worse than earthly flames—that
she could not stand or walk. She, like Lambert, suffered for denying
the Real Presence. She was a gentlewoman of very good understanding.

The Holy Maid of Kent, Elizabeth Barton, was a woman of a much lower
order. She was hysterical and weak-minded. At the present day she would
be looked after and gently cared for. She had fits and convulsions,
during which her face and her body were drawn, and she talked rambling
nonsense. That she was unintelligible was quite enough to make the
ignorant country folk flock about her, listening for inspired words in
her hysterical ejaculations. She passed among them for one to whom God
had sent a new revelation of His Will and Intentions. She was taken to
see Bishops Fisher and More, who do not seem to have regarded her as a
person of the slightest importance. But certain priests—it is said so;
one may believe it or not—obtained influence over her and persuaded
her to prophesy—no doubt she believed what they told her—that if the
King took another wife he would not remain King for another year. Henry
was not the man to be turned aside from his fixed purpose by such a
gross cheat. He arrested the Maid and her accomplices. They were all
brought to the Star Chamber and examined; they all confessed. They were
then exposed on a scaffold at St. Paul’s and publicly confirmed their
confessions. Her confederates included six ecclesiastics, of whom two
were monks of Canterbury and one a Friar Observaunt; two were private
gentlemen; one was a serving-man. Confession made, they were taken
back to the Tower and their case laid before Parliament, which met
after Christmas. They were all sentenced to the same traitor’s death
and, after being kept in prison for three months, were carried out to
Tyburn. The last words of the girl if they are correctly reported are
very pathetic and to the purpose. But they look as if they had been
written for her.

  “Hether am I come to die, and I have not beene the onele cause of
  mine owne death, which most justly I have deserved, but also I am
  the cause of the death of all these persons which at thys time here
  suffer: and yet to saye the truth I am not so much to be blamed,
  consydering it was well known unto these learned men that I was
  a poore wenche, without learnyng, and therefore they might have
  easily perceyved that the thinges that were done by me could not
  proceede in no suche sort, but their capacities and learning coulde
  right well judge from whence they were proceeded, and that they
  were altogether fayned: but because the things which I fayned was
  profitable unto them, and therefore they much praised mee and bare
  me in hande that it was the holy ghost, and not that I did them,
  and then being puffed up with their prayses, fell into a certaine
  pride and foolish phantasie with my self, and thought I might fayne
  what I would, which thing hath brought me to this case, and for the
  which now I crye God and the King’s highnesse most hartely mercie,
  and desire all you good people to pray to God to have mercie on me,
  and all them that here suffer with me.”

One cannot refrain in this place from remarking on the change which
has come over the temper of the people as regards the sacred person
of the priest. Henry the Seventh would not send to execution even
those mischievous priests who invented and carried out the impudent
personations. Yet his son, thirty years later, sends to block, stake or
gallows, bishops, abbots, priors, priests, monks, and friars, by the
dozen.

The story of Richard Hun illustrates the condition of popular feeling
which made these executions of ecclesiastics possible. He was a
citizen of good position and considerable wealth, a merchant-taylor by
calling; he was greatly respected by the poorer sort on account of
his charitable disposition. “He was a good almesman and relieved the
needy.” It happened that one of his children, an infant, died and was
buried. The curate asked for the “bearing sheet” as a “mortuary.”[2]
Richard Hun replied that the child had no property in the sheet. The
reply shows either bad feeling towards the curate or bad feeling
towards the clergy generally. Most likely it was the latter, as the
sequel shows.

[Illustration: The order and manner of the burning of _Anne Askew_,
_John Lacels_, _John Adams_, _Nicholas Belenian_, with certaine of the
Councell sitting in Smithfield.]

The priest cited him before the spiritual court. He replied by counsel,
suing the curate in a praemunire. In return Hun was arrested on a
charge of Lollardry and put into Lambeth Palace. And here shortly
afterwards he was found dead. He had hanged himself, said the Bishop
and Chancellor. The people began to murmur. Hanged himself? Why should
so good a man hang himself? A coroner’s inquest was held upon the body.
The jury indicted the Chancellor and two men, the bell-ringer and the
summoner, for murdering Richard Hun. The King’s attorney, however,
would go no further in the matter. By the Bishop’s orders the body was
burned at Smithfield. But the murder—if it was a murder—of Richard Hun
was not forgotten. Nor was it forgotten that without a trial his body
was burned as a heretic’s. These things lay in the minds of the people.
And they rankled.

[Illustration: DEAN COLET (1467–1519)

From an engraved portrait in Holland’s _Heroologia_.]

In the reign of Henry VI. (1447), four new grammar schools had been
established in the City: viz. in the parishes of All Hallows the
Great; St. Andrew’s Holborn; St. Peter’s Cornhill; and in St. Thomas
Acons’ Hospital. Nine years later, five other parish schools had been
founded or restored, namely, that of St. Paul’s; of St. Martin’s; of
St. Mary le Bow; of St. Dunstan’s in the East; and of St. Anthony’s
Hospital. All these schools seem to have fallen more or less into decay
during the next hundred years. But very little indeed is known as to
the condition of education during this period. There is, however, no
doubt that in the year 1509 the Dean of St. Paul’s, John Colet, found
the condition of St. Paul’s School very much decayed. He was himself
a man of large means, being the son of a rich merchant who had been
Sheriff in 1477, Mayor in 1486, and Alderman, first of Farringdon Ward
Without, and afterwards of Castle Baynard and Cornhill successively.
The Dean resolved upon building a new school and endowing it. He
therefore bought a piece of land on the east side of the Cathedral;
there placed a school and entrusted the revenues with which he endowed
it to the Mercers’ Company, saying, that though there was nothing
sacred in human affairs, he yet found the “least corruption” among
them. Later on, the Merchant Taylors founded a school; the Mercers
founded another school; and John Carpenter, Clerk, founded the City of
London School. The educational endowments founded by London citizens
amount to nearly a hundred.

[Illustration: THOMAS CROMWELL, EARL OF ESSEX (1485(?)-1540)]

The enclosure of common lands has always been a temptation to those
who live in the neighbourhood and a grievance to those who are thus
robbed of their common property. Both in the north and south of London
there stretched wide common lands in which the people possessed rights
of pasture, cutting wood, and other things. Many of these common lands
still remain, though greatly shorn of their former proportions. On
the north Hampstead Heath is all that is left of land which began
at Moorfields and stretched northwards as far as Muswell Hill and
Highgate and eastward to include the Forests of Epping and Hainault.
In a map of London of the sixteenth century these common lands must
be laid down as a special and very fortunate possession of the City,
where people could in a few minutes find themselves in pure country
air. Early in the century, however, there were murmurings on account of
the enclosure of the fields north of London. “Before this time,” says
Grafton, “the townes about London, as Islington, Hoxton, Shordyche,
and other, had enclosed the common fields with hedges and ditches
that neyther the yonge men of the City might shoote, nor the auncient
persons might walk for their pleasure in the fields, except eyther
their bowes and arrows were broken or taken away, or the honest and
substantiall persons arrested or indicted, saiving that no Londoner
should goe oute of the City but in the high wayes.” It is not stated
how long this grievance lasted; probably it grew gradually: field after
field was cut off; one enclosure after another was made; until the
Londoners rubbed their eyes and asked each other what had become of
their ancient grounds—especially the delightful fields called the Moor,
on whose shallow ponds they skated and slid in winter, and where they
practised the long bow, while the elders looked on, in the summer. They
were gone: in their place were fields hedged and ditched, with narrow
lanes in which two people might walk abreast. How long they looked
on considering this phenomenon we know not. At length, however, the
pent-up waters overflowed. “Suddenly this yere” (1514) a great number
of people assembled in the City, and a “Turner” attired in a fool’s
coat ran about among them crying, “Shovels and Spades.” Everybody knew
what was meant. In an incredibly short time the whole population of
the City were outside the walls, armed with shovels and spades. Then
the ditches were filled in, and hedges cut down, and the fields laid
open again. The King’s Council, hearing of the tumult, came to the Grey
Friars and sent for the Mayor to ascertain the meaning, for a tumult in
the City might become a very serious thing indeed. When, however, they
heard the cause and meaning of it they “dissimuled” the matter with a
reasonable admonition to attempt no more violence, and went home again.
But the fields were not hedged in or ditched round any more.

[Illustration: DEAN COLET’S HOUSE, STEPNEY]

In 1532 there was held a general Muster of all the citizens aged
from sixteen to sixty. The City, never slow to display its strength
and wealth, turned out in great force. The men mustered at Mile End,
probably because it was the nearest place which afforded a broad
space for marshalling the troops. They were dressed in white uniforms
with white caps and white feathers; the Mayor, Sheriffs, Aldermen,
and Recorder wore white armour, having black velvet jackets with the
City arms embroidered on them, and gold chains. Before each Alderman
marched four halberdiers, each with a gilt halberd. Before the Lord
Mayor marched sixteen men in white satin jackets, with chains of gold
and long gilt halberds; four footmen in white satin; and two pages
in crimson velvet, with gold brocade waistcoats; two stately horses
carrying, the one the Mayor’s helmet, the other the Mayor’s pole-axe.

[Illustration: _a Description of the Solemn JUSTS held at Westminster
the 13^{th} day of February in the first year of King HENRY y^e VIII,
in honor of his Queen KATHERIN upon the Birth of their eldest Son
Prince HENRY, A.D. 1510. taken from the Original Roll now in the
College of Armes, London._

PROCESSION. TIME OF HENRY VIII.

E. Gardner’s Collection.]

All citizens of distinction on such occasions wore white satin
jackets and gold chains. The vast expenditure of money on a single
day’s pageant such as this, was quite common at this time and in the
preceding age. It may perhaps be explained by certain considerations.
Thus: it was an age of great show and external splendour; the
magnificence of dress, festivals, masques, ridings, and pageants,
is difficult to realise in this sober time. Wealth, rank, position,
privileges, were in fact marked by display. We have seen the splendour
of the Baron who rode to his town house with an army of 500 followers
all richly dressed. And it has been observed that it was not wholly the
mere love of magnificence that caused a nobleman or an ecclesiastic
to keep up this great state. So, in preparing this martial show,
with 15,000 men of arms all fully and richly equipped, the Mayor and
Aldermen intended to illustrate to the King and his Ministers the power
of the City, the wealth of the City, and the resolution of the City to
defend their liberties. And I have no doubt that this intention was
thoroughly understood by Henry and taken to heart. The March began at
nine in the morning. The troops marched through Aldgate, through the
City, and so to Westminster by Fleet Street and the Strand—a little
over four miles. At five in the evening the last company marched past
the King. That part of the business therefore must have lasted about
six hours.

In the matter of the King’s divorce the City, or the populace, had
taken a very strong side in favour of Queen Katherine. It may indeed
be true that the King’s conscience was awakened after all these years
of marriage as to the legality of marrying his brother’s widow: he saw
perhaps in the failure of male heirs a sign of the Divine displeasure;
that may be: it is not possible to understand all the motives which
guide a man. To the outside world the simplest motive seems always the
certain motive. Katherine was no longer young, no longer beautiful.
Anne Boleyn was both. When the second marriage was announced, the
citizens were greatly displeased: partly on account of their sympathy
with Katherine, partly because they remembered that Anne was the
grand-daughter of a mayor, one of themselves. No honour is ever felt
to be conferred upon the people by the marriage of a Prince with one
of themselves, but quite the reverse. Edward IV. and James II. are
examples, as well as Henry VIII. So much did the citizens show their
disgust, that at an Easter sermon some of them went out of the church
before the prayers for the Queen were read. The King sent word to the
Mayor about it. He called the guilds together and bade them cease
murmuring against the King’s marriage, and cause their journeymen and
apprentices and even their wives to offend no more.

On the 29th of May the Queen passed from Greenwich to the Tower, and
on the 31st from the Tower to Westminster. The City hastened on this
occasion to show their loyalty by preparing a splendid reception for
the Queen. The Pageant is described below.

The Princess Elizabeth was born in September of the same year (1533).
In the spring of the following year Parliament passed an Act of
Succession declaring that she, and not Mary, was heir to the Crown; the
whole of the citizens took the oath in acknowledgment of this Act. If
any were so hardy as to refuse, they were executed.

[Illustration: HENRY VIII., PRINCESS MARY, AND WILL SOMERS

From Earl Spencer’s Collection.  _p. 38._]

Of Pageants and Ridings no reign ever saw so many, nor was the City
ever more honoured in the part which it was invited to take in them.
Here, for instance, is a list of the more important: the Coronation
in 1509; the reception of the French Ambassadors in 1518; that of the
Legate Cardinal Campeggio; that of the Emperor Charles in 1522; the
Coronation of Anne Boleyn;—every one an occasion for the display of
sumptuous raiment, tapestry, gold chains and allegorical groups. Two
of these functions stand out above all others: the Coronation of Anne
and the Christening of her child. Let us take the account of the Water
Pageant as furnished by Grafton:—

  “The xix day of May the Maior and his brethren all in Scarlet, and
  such as were knightes had collers of Esses and the remnaunt havyng
  good chaynes, and the counsayle of the Citie with them assembled
  at saint Marie Hyll, and at one of the clocke dissended to the
  Newstayre to their Barge, which was garnished with many goodly
  Banners and instruments, which continually made goodly armony.
  After that the Maior and his brethren were in their Barge seing
  that al the companies to the number of fiftie Barges were readie to
  wayte upon them. They gave commaundement to the companies that no
  Barge should rowe neerer to another then twise the length of the
  Barge upon a great paine. And to see the order kept, there were
  three light Wheryes prepared, and in every one of them two officers
  to call on them to keepe their order, after which commaundement
  given they set foorth in order as hereafter is described. First
  before the Maior’s Barge was a Foyst or Wafter full of ordynaunce,
  in which Foyst was a great Dragon contynually moovyng, and casting
  wilde fyre: and round about the sayde Foyst stood terrible monsters
  and wilde men casting fire, and making hideous noyses: next after
  the Foyst a good distaunce came the Maior’s Barge, on whose right
  hand was the Batchelers’ Barge, in the which were Trumpets and
  divers other melodious Instruments. The deckes of the sayde Barge
  and the sailyardes and the top Castels were hanged with riche cloth
  of Golde and silke. At the foreship and the sterne were two great
  banners riche beaten with the armes of the King and the Quene, and
  on the top Castell also was a long streamer newely beaten with the
  sayde armes.

  At three of the clock the Queene appered in riche clothe of Gold
  and entered into her Barge accompanied with divers Ladies and
  gentlewomen, and incontinent the Citizens set forwardes in their
  order, their Musicians continually plaiyng, and the Batchelers’
  Barge goyng on the Queenes right hande, which she toke great
  pleasure to behold. About the Queenes Barge were many Noblemen,
  as the Duke of Suffolke, the Marques Dorset, the Erie of Wilshire
  her father, the Erles of Arrondell, Darby, Rutland, Worcester,
  Huntyngton, Sussex, Oxford, and many Bishoppes and noblemen, every
  one in his Barge which was a goodly sight to behold. Shee thus
  being accompanied rowed toward the Tower, and in the meane waye the
  shippes which were commaunded to lye on the shore for lettyng of
  the Barges shot divers peales of Gonnes, and or shee landed there
  was a marvailous shot out of the Tower as ever was harde there.
  And at her landing there met with her the Lorde Chamberlaine with
  the officers of armes and brought her to the king, which received
  her with lovyng countenance at the posterne by the waterside, and
  kyssed her, and then she turned back againe and thanked the Maior
  and the citizens with many goodly words and so entered the Tower.”
  (Grafton’s _Chronicles_, vol. ii. p. 448.)

The Insurrection in the North, called the Pilgrimage of Grace, the most
dangerous rising in this reign, caused the King to look to the City for
assistance. The Mayor sent him 300 men fully armed and equipped.

The Mayor took another step in the interests of the Crown and of order.
Although the suppression of the Houses was only begun, the intention of
the King was manifest, and the rising in the North showed the temper of
some part of the people. It is probable that in the City the popular
voice was with the King. But there was a minority consisting of some
of the monks and friars ejected, some of the people who had lost their
occupation and their service, some partisans of the old order; and
these were dangerous. The Court of Aldermen, therefore, deprived every
priest, monk, friar, and religious person of every kind, of all weapons
except their meat knives. A rising of the Religious, maddened with rage
and fear, joined by one knows not how many of lay partisans, hot-heads
and ribalds always anxious for a row, might have been a very serious
thing indeed. We may be quite sure that there were many within and
without the walls who would have desired nothing so much as the sack
and pillage of the rich merchants’ houses in the sacred name of the
Holy Church. Perhaps one of the reasons of the City’s acquiescence in
the destruction of the Religious Houses was the knowledge that such a
rebellion would have produced some kind of alliance with the rogues and
vagabonds of their lanes and slums.

The execution of Anne Boleyn and the succession of Henry’s queens may
be passed over here as belonging to the national history.

In June and July 1536 a Convocation was held at St. Paul’s, presided
over by Cromwell, the King’s Vicar-General. A more important assembly
was never held in this country. For this Convocation separated the
Church of England altogether from Rome: it held that the King, as
Supreme Head of the Church, ought to disregard all citations from
the Pope. Once before the Pope’s citations had been disregarded and
scoffed at, viz. by John; but that was on his own authority, apart
from his Clergy and his people. In this case Henry kept up the show of
consultation with his Clergy. Not he, but Convocation, decided that he
was wholly independent of the Pope.

In the year 1543 the plague appeared and carried off a great many. The
City Authorities ordered all infected houses to be marked with a cross;
all infected persons who recovered were to remain in quarantine for a
month; all straw and rushes from infected houses were to be carried
away and burned; and infected clothes were to be carried out of the
City. Dogs, except watch-dogs, were to be killed. It proved, happily,
to be a short though sharp visitation.

In 1544 the City sent 1000 men to aid Henry in his war with France,
in two contingents of 500 each; and in the following year a third
contingent of 2000 men was sent to France. In 1545 a tax for
two-fifteenths was imposed for the purpose of bringing water from
Hackney, Muswell Hill, and Hoxton, into the City. The conclusion of the
war with France in 1546 was celebrated by a Procession which was solemn
and magnificent. It marched from St. Paul’s to Leadenhall Chapel and
back again. First came men carrying the silver crosses of the Parish
Churches; then all the Parish Clerks, Choristers and Priests in London;
then the Choir of St. Paul’s, in their school caps: they were followed
by the City Companies in their liveries. Last of all marched the Lord
Mayor and Aldermen in scarlet robes.

Peace, however, brought with it an invasion of disbanded soldiers,
riotous, and given to acts of robbery and violence. They were
accompanied by their camp-followers, whose character may be guessed.
The Mayor gave orders that the old soldiers should be allowed to beg
for a certain number of days, but that the vagabond followers should be
driven out of the City. So I suppose they got rid of a few while the
greater number remained behind—an addition to the rogues and beggars of
the City, who had already become a most dangerous element. (See p. 366.)

[Illustration: EMBARKATION OF HENRY VIII. AT DOVER]

In the last year of Henry’s reign (1546) he bestowed an endowment of
500 marks a year on the City Poorhouses on condition that the City
itself raised as much. He also gave the City, only a few days before
his death, the Hospital of St. Bartholomew, to be called the House of
the Poor; the House of the Grey Friars, and the House or Hospital of
Bethlehem. Henry died on the 28th of January 1547 at his Palace of
Whitehall.

I will now discuss a few more incidents in the history of this reign.

In 1511 Roger Acheley, Mayor, caused the City Granary of Leadenhall to
be stored with grain for prevention in time of scarcity. This Mayor
also caused Moor fields to be levelled, and bridges and causeways to be
erected thereon.

In 1512 the Sheriffs were, by Act of Parliament, empowered to empanel
Juries for the City Courts. Every Juryman was to be a citizen worth
100 marks. If he failed to appear upon the first summons he was to
forfeit one shilling and eightpence; for the second, three shillings
and fourpence—and so on, the penalty being doubled for each occasion.

In 1517 the Court of Conscience was first established. Two Aldermen
and four “discreet” Commoners were appointed every month to sit at
the Guildhall twice a week, on Wednesday and Saturday, to hear causes
between citizens and freemen of debts not exceeding forty shillings.
The Act was passed for two years only; but as it proved highly
serviceable it was continued by repeated Acts of Council until the
Court was confirmed by James I.

In 1519 the King by Charter removed the Sessions of Peace from St.
Martin’s le Grand to the Guildhall, to the great contentment of the
citizens.

In 1519 the Tower Ditch, between Aldgate and the Tower Postern, was
scoured and cleansed—the work cost £95:3:4. The Chief Ditcher was paid
7d. a day; the second Ditcher 6d.; the rest 5d.; the “Vagabonds,”
_i.e._ men pressed into the work, got a penny and their food. It
follows from this that the wage of a working man was then 5d. or 6d. a
day. The pay of a chantry priest was in most cases £6 a year, or about
4d. a day. So that the craftsman received, to support himself and his
family, very little more than the priest for the support of himself.
This fact shows that even the despised chantry priest occupied a much
higher social position than the craftsman.

In 1525 Wolsey proposed to levy a tax of one-sixth of all the goods
and chattels of the laity, and a fourth of those of the clergy.
There was so much indignation at this tax that the King gave way,
sending a letter to the Mayor in which he stated that he would never
exact anything of his people by compulsion, but would rely on their
benevolence. It appeared, however, when Wolsey sent for the Mayor and
Aldermen to confer with them upon the subject, that the City was not
disposed to grant any benevolence at all, relying on a statute of
Richard III. abolishing such benevolences. It was in vain that Wolsey
pointed out to them the facts that Richard was a murderer and a tyrant:
the City stood by the Law, and the benevolence was dropped.

In 1526 occurs an early example of the boycott. The City found that
certain foreign merchants had purchased license to import woad contrary
to law. It was therefore resolved that no London citizen should have
any dealings with any foreign merchant who should import woad.

About the year 1527 there was an attempt made by Wolsey to pass laws in
the teeth of the simple rule of supply and demand. The war with Spain
caused great losses to the manufacturers of cloth, who were obliged to
dismiss their servants and to stop the production. Wolsey thereupon
sent for the principal merchants of the City and ordered them to go
on buying from the manufacturers as usual; in other words, to ruin
themselves and their own servants in order to prevent the dismissal of
the factory hands. Should they disobey, the great Cardinal threatened
to remove the cloth market from Blackwell Hall to Westminster.
“However,” Maitland remarks quietly, “it was neither in the power
of the King, nor in that of his Minister, to execute the aforesaid
injunction: wherefore commerce continued on the same footing as before,
till the conclusion of a Peace.”

In 1529, after the meeting of Convocation already mentioned, a
Proclamation was passed in London prohibiting all commercial
intercourse with Rome.

In the same year the City recovered the right of the Great Beam. The
King had taken over this important right with all the profits belonging
to it and had conveyed it to Sir William Sidney. For ten years the
City had been endeavouring to recover their rights even by bribing,
but without success. In 1531 a compromise was arrived at, by which
Sir William Sidney continued to hold the Beam at an annual rent, and
by Royal Charter the right was once more conveyed to the Mayor and
Corporation, the Grocers’ Company having the privilege of appointing
the weighers.

Another attempt was made to regulate the price of food. It was
complained that butchers who were not freemen had put up stalls along
Leadenhall Street where they sold their meat before the doors of the
houses. The Mayor made them all go into Leadenhall Market, where they
had to pay rent to the Corporation. He also fixed the price of beef
at a half-penny a pound, and of mutton at three-farthings. As a whole
sheep could be bought for 2s. 10d., it would seem as if the whole sheep
weighed only 45 lbs. It was discovered, however, that the regulation
only made meat dearer. Therefore it was not enforced. At this time
French wine was sold at 8d. a gallon; Malmsey and other sweet wines at
a shilling.

In 1542 occurred the business of George Ferrers. He was M.P. for
Plymouth, and he was arrested for debt in the City and lodged in the
Compter, a manifest infringement of the privileges of the House. The
Serjeant-at-Arms was therefore ordered by the House to proceed to the
City and to demand the release of the prisoner. The Sheriffs—Rowland
Hill and Henry Suckley—in their zeal for the privileges of Parliament,
not only refused to obey, but abused the serjeant and maltreated him.
Upon which he returned to Westminster and informed the House of what
had been done. The House therefore ordered the serjeant to return
and to demand the prisoner without writ or warrant. Meanwhile the
Sheriffs had learned the meaning of their action and were beginning
to feel uncomfortable. They released the prisoner and, accompanied
by the creditor, one White, they attended at the Bar of the House.
The Sheriffs and the creditor and one of their clerks were sent to
the Tower; the arresting clerk and four others to Newgate. And in
this melancholy plight they continued for some days, until they were
released by the intercession of the Mayor. This was an example to all
future Sheriffs not to take too much upon themselves.

About this time also the principal streets of the suburbs were first
completely paved: viz. Holborn, High Street, Aldgate as far as
Whitechapel Church, Chancery Lane, Gray’s Inn Lane, Shoe Lane, Fetter
Lane, White Cross Street, Chiswell Street, Grub Street, Shoreditch,
Goswell Street, St. John’s Street, Cannon Street, Wych Street,
Holy Well Street (by Clement Danes), the Strand; Petty France in
Westminster; Water Lane in Fleet Street; Long Lane in Smithfield; and
Butcher Row without Temple Bar. The paving was not yet the flat slab of
stone introduced later, but the round cobble stone, with a channel or
gutter running down the middle.

In 1543 an Act was passed empowering the City to bring water from
Hampstead and Muswell Hill, and two years later a conduit was set up in
Lothbury with water from Hoxton Fields. (Appendix I.)

The death of Henry left the City in a condition of the greatest
confusion and disorder. The streets were full of returned soldiers, and
of the idle vagabonds who follow the army: in holes and corners there
were lurking unfrocked friars and people turned out of their work in
the Religious Houses; there were no hospitals for the sick; none for
the blind; none for the insane. If these were the fruits of the King’s
supremacy, then, men whispered to each other, it were better to return
to the old superstitions.




                              CHAPTER III

                               EDWARD VI


The City presents few points of interest during this reign which do not
belong to the national history. The Progress of the Reformation is the
subject which more especially belongs to and interests the world in
this young King’s short reign.

[Illustration: EDWARD VI. (1537–1553)

From a portrait by Holbein at Windsor Castle.]

There can be no doubt whatever that just as in the reign of Richard
II. the City was saturated with Lollardry, so in the last years of
Henry VIII. it was filled with the new ideas. The connection with the
Pope severed; the religious Orders clean swept away; the reading of
the Bible rapidly spreading; the teaching and example of men like
Cranmer, Latimer, Rogers, Ridley, Hooper, and others; the derision
poured upon the old things such as pilgrimages, image worship, repeated
services and monasticism; the popular attack on the Religious by such
writers as Fish in the _Supplicacyon of Beggars_ and Barnabe Googe in
his _Popish Kingdom_; the lectures and sermons carefully composed with
the design of overthrowing and casting contempt upon the old Faith;
the natural instinct of men to see in new ideas a certain remedy for
old ills;—these things made it inevitable that the new thoughts should
spread and take root. We hear no more, for instance, of the Mayor
disarming men who had been monks and friars.

The new ideas, again, appealed to the nobler and more generous part of
humanity. To stand erect before the Creator without the intervention
of a priest; no longer to be called upon to believe that which the
Bible would not allow to be believed; the introduction of Reason into
the domain of Doctrine; the abandonment of childish pilgrimages to the
tombs of fallible and sinful mortals; the abolition of the doctrine
that pardons, indulgences, Heaven itself, can be bought with money; no
longer to believe that fasting and the observance of days may avail
to salvation;—these things caught hold of men’s minds and ran rapidly
from class to class. And then there was the reading of the Bible for
themselves by the folk who could do no more than read. There are no
means of deciding how far the old English Version had been read and
passed from hand to hand.

In the reign of Edward VI. we see the first-fruits of the new ideas.
Already, however, there were signs of change other than those ordered
and authorised by the most autocratic of sovereigns. The Mayor
abolished the service of the Boy Bishop at St. Paul’s; sober citizens
were haled before the courts charged with blaspheming the mass; men
rose in their places and made a noise in church during celebration;
one, a boy, threw his cap at the Host during the time of elevation:
“at this tyme” (_Grey Friars Chron._) “was moche spekyng agayn the
Sacrament of the Auter, that some called it Jack of the boxe, with
divers other shameful names.”

Thus the new reign began.

It was a time of great uncertainty and trouble in religious matters. We
see the citizens, ignorant of Greek, disputing over the interpretation
of a text; over the conditions of salvation; over matters too high
for them—one grows hot and says things that ought not to be said. The
informer in the crowd—there is always an informer—steals away and
lays information. Then the hasty citizen is lucky if he gets off with
a fine. They whisper thus and thus concerning the intentions of the
Protector and the opinions of the Archbishop. It is rumoured that the
new Bishop of this or that will not be consecrated in his robes; it is
rumoured that there will be more changes in the Articles of Religion;
it is rumoured that there will be a vast rising of the ejected priests
and the starving friars; it is rumoured that they have already risen in
the East and in the West. The air is full of rumours. Trade is very
bad. There is no money anywhere; the coinage is debased: a shilling
is worth no more than sixpence; a groat is twopence; a penny is a
half-penny; and the price of provisions is certainly double what it
was! It is a strange, perplexed time.

[Illustration: EDWARD VI. (1537–1553)

From a portrait by Holbein at Windsor Castle.]

There were other events connected with the City besides these constant
alarms about the change of Faith. Traitors were executed, notably the
two Seymours; rebels were drawn, hanged and quartered, notably the four
Captains of the Cornish Rising; the sweating sickness appeared again
in 1550 and lasted for six months, carrying off men only and sparing
women and children. The cloister of St. Paul’s, commonly called the
Dance of Death, and the Charnel House of St. Paul’s, were destroyed and
carried away; there were risings in Cornwall, Norfolk, and Yorkshire;
a woman named Joan of Kent was burned at Smithfield for heresy; then
happened the famous murder of Arden of Faversham, for which his wife,
his maid, and one of the murderers were all burned; three men and one
woman hanged; a Dutchman named George of Paris was burned for heresy in
Smithfield.

An important acquisition, however, was gained by the City in 1550. The
Borough of Southwark consisted of three manors, the Guildable Manor,
the King’s Manor, and the Great Liberty Manor. Edward III. had granted
the first of these to the City. Edward IV. had confirmed and amplified
this grant, giving the City the right of holding a yearly Fair in the
month of September together with a Court of Pie Powder. The City next
claimed the right of holding a market twice a week in Southwark. On
this claim there were disputes. Finally the City bought all the rights
of the Crown in Southwark for the sum of £647:2:1. They thus obtained
a recognised right to hold four weekly markets, and to administer the
whole borough excepting the two prisons of the Marshalsea and the
King’s Bench, and the Duke of Suffolk’s House.

A very curious difference was made between the new Ward of Bridge
Without, then founded, and the other wards. It is this: that in the
election of Aldermen the people of the Ward have never had any voice
and have never taken any part. And they are not represented in the
Common Council.

In one respect the civic history of this reign is very fine—the
citizens grappled manfully with the question of the poor and the
sick. We have seen how Henry gave them Grey Friars, Bartholomew’s,
and Bethlehem. In aid of the former they levied on the City a tax of
one-half of a fifteenth, _i.e._ a thirtieth. And the memory of the
old Religious Fraternities lingered still, for we find them founding
a Brotherhood for the Relief of the Poor, to which Sir John Gresham,
then Mayor, and most of the Aldermen belonged. Nor was this all. They
obtained by purchase, at the cost of £2500, the Hospital of St. Thomas
in Southwark.

After the poor, the children. Grey Friars House was taken in hand and
altered to convert it into a school. In a few months 400 children were
admitted. This was the work of Sir Richard Dobbs as Mayor. When Ridley
was lying in prison, shortly before his death he wrote to Dobbs in
these words:—“Oh Dobbs, Dobbs, Alderman and Knight, thou in thy year
didst win my heart for evermore, for that honourable act, that most
blessed work of God, of the erection and setting up of Christ’s Holy
Hospitals and truly Religious Houses which by thee and through thee
were begun.”

After the sick and the children come those who cannot work and those
who will not work. In 1553 the young King consented to give his disused
Palace of Bridewell for the purpose of turning it into a Work-house
or hospital for those who could work no longer, and for a House of
Correction to those who would not work (see also p. 368). The King
gave also 700 marks and all the beds and bedding of the Palace of the
Savoy. The very last act of Edward VI. was a Charter of Incorporation,
appointing the Mayor, Aldermen, and Commonalty, Governors of these
Royal Hospitals in the City.

[Illustration: EDWARD VI. GRANTING CHARTER TO BRIDEWELL

From E. Gardner’s Collection.  _p. 48._]

In the first year of Edward the House of Commons passed an Act which
showed that the old spirit of independence and the desire to form
Unions were not dead among the craftsmen of London. They enacted:—

  “That if any Artificers, Workmen, or Labourers do conspire,
  covenant, or promise together, that they shall not make or do
  their work but at a certain Price or Rate, or shall not enterprize
  nor take upon them to finish that work which another hath begun,
  or shall do but a certain work in a day, or shall not work but
  at certain Hours or Times; that then every Person so conspiring,
  covenanting, or offending, being thereof convicted by Witnesses,
  Confession, or otherwise, shall forfeit for the first offence
  £10 or twenty days’ Imprisonment; for the second offence £20 or
  Pillory; and for a third offence £40 or to sit on the Pillory,
  and to have one Ear cut off, besides being rendered infamous and
  incapable of ever giving Evidence upon Oath.” (Maitland, vol. i. p.
  239.)

The Act is explained to apply especially to butchers, bakers, brewers,
poulterers, cooks, etc.—in a word, to those who provided the daily
necessaries of life.

In 1548 the Marching Watch was revived by Sir John Gresham, after being
in abeyance for many years. It was London’s finest show. (See p. 362.)

The Deposition and trial of the Protector are matters of national
history. The part taken by the City is not generally recorded by the
historian. It is told by Maitland:—

  “The Earl of _Warwick_, and divers Lords of the Privy-Council,
  being highly dissatisfied with the Administration of _Edward
  Seymer_, Duke of _Somerset_, the Protector, withdrew from Court,
  associated, and armed themselves and Domesticks, and secured
  the Tower of _London_ by a Stratagem of the Lord Treasurer’s,
  without the Effusion of Blood; and, having removed the Governor,
  substituted one of their Friends to succeed him. Having luckily
  succeeded in their first Attempt, _Warwick_ removed into the City,
  and lodged at the House of _John York_, one of the Sheriffs of
  _London_.

  Upon advice of these proceedings at _London_, the Protector was
  so greatly intimidated, that he instantly removed with the King
  from _Hampton-Court_ to _Windsor_, and began strongly to fortify
  the Castle. In the Interim the Lords at _London_ had a Conference
  with the Lord-Mayor and Aldermen, whom they earnestly importuned
  to provide a Power sufficient for Defence of the City: Which being
  assented to, the several Companies were ordered alternately to
  mount Guard, to be ready to oppose all Attempts that might be
  made against them. They likewise desired a Supply of five hundred
  Men, to enable them to bring the Protector to Justice. To which
  Answer was returned, That nothing could be done in that Affair
  without consulting the Common-Council; to which End, the Lord-Mayor
  summoned all the Members thereof to assemble the next Day in
  _Guildhall_.

  In the mean time the Lords convened in the Mayor’s House; where
  after having drawn up a trifling charge against the Protector,
  they caused it to be proclaimed in divers parts of the City.
  After which they conferred with the Mayor and Aldermen in the
  Council-Chamber (before they met the Commons) and, having come
  to several Resolutions, the Mayor and Aldermen repaired to the
  Common-Council; where, in a full Assembly, they produced a Letter
  from the King, commanding them immediately to send him five hundred
  Men completely armed to _Windsor_. However, _Robert Brook_, the
  Recorder, earnestly exhorted them rather to supply the Lords with
  that Number, by whose assistance they would be enabled to call the
  Protector to an Account, and thereby redress the Grievances of an
  injured Nation; without which the City was not only in Danger of
  being ruined, but likewise the whole Kingdom to become a Prey to
  his insatiable Avarice. This Speech, instead of having the desired
  Effect, occasioned a profound Silence; which greatly amazing the
  Orator, he reassumed his Discourse, and seriously pressed them for
  an Answer: Whereupon _George Stadlow_, a prudent and judicious
  Citizen, rose up, and spoke as followeth:—

  ‘I remember,’ sayth he, ‘in a Story written in Fabian’s Chronicle,
  of the Warre betweene the King and his Barons, which was in the
  time of King _Henry_ III. and the same Time the Barons, as our
  Lordes do now, demaunded Ayde of the Maior and Citie of _London_,
  and that in a rightful Cause for the Commonweale, which was for
  the Execution of divers good Lawes, whereunto the King before
  had geven his Consent, and after would not suffer them to take
  Place; and the Citie did ayde the Lords, and it came to an open
  Battayl, wherein the Lordes prevayled, and toke the King and his
  sonne Prisoners, and upon certaine Condycions the Lordes restored
  againe the King and his Sonne to their Liberties; and, amonge other
  Condycions, this was one, That the King should not only graunt his
  Pardon to the Lordes, but also to the Citezens of _London_; which
  was graunted, yea, and the same was ratified by Act of Parliament:
  But what followed of it? Was it forgotten? No, surely, nor forgiven
  during the King’s life; the Lyberties of the City were taken away,
  Straungers appointed to be our Heades and Gouvernors, the Citezens
  geven away Bodye and Goodes, and from one Persecution to another
  were most miserably afflicted. Such it is to enter into the Wrath
  of a Prince, as _Solomon_ sayth, _The Wrath and Indignation of a
  Prince is Death_. Wherefore, forasmuch as this Ayd is requyred of
  the King’s Majestie, whose Voyce we ought to hearken unto, for he
  is our high Shepherd, rather than unto the Lords; and yet I would
  not with the Lords to be clearly shaken off, but that they with
  us, and we with them, may joyne in Sute, and make our most humble
  Petition to the King’s Majestie, that it would please his Highness
  to heere suche Complaynt against the Government of the Lorde
  Protector, as maye be justly alleged and proved; and, I doubt not,
  but this Matter will be pacefied, that neither shall the King, nor
  yet the Lordes, have Cause to seeke for further Ayde, neyther we to
  offend any of them bothe.’” (Maitland, vol. i. p. 240.)

[Illustration: THE CORONATION PROCESSION OF EDWARD VI.]

It would seem that the nobles had resumed the old custom of having a
great train of followers. For at the departure of Mary Queen of Scots
from London, where she had been entertained for four days, the Duke
of Northumberland attended her with a hundred mounted men, of whom
forty were dressed in black velvet, with velvet hats and feathers,
and had gold chains about their necks. The Earl of Pembroke was there
with a hundred and twenty men, also in hats and feathers; and the
Lord Treasurer had a hundred gentlemen and yeomen. The last glimpse
which London had of the young King was when Sir Hugh Willoughby sailed
down the river on that voyage which was to discover a N.E. passage
through the ice and snow of North Siberia. The ships were dressed
with streamers; trumpeters stood in the bows; guns were fired for a
farewell salute as they passed Greenwich Palace, and the dying Prince
was brought out for one more look upon the glory of his realm in the
courage and enterprise of his subjects.




                              CHAPTER IV

                                 MARY


The proclamation of Lady Jane Grey as Queen, the short-lived and
ill-fated period of that usurpation, belong to the history of the
country, not to that of London.

[Illustration: MARY TUDOR (1516–1558)

From a woodcut of the portrait by Antonio Moro, in Prado, Madrid.]

It was on the evening of the 3rd of August that Mary made her entry
into the City accompanied by her half-sister Elizabeth. She came
from Newhall in Essex where, a few days before, she had received a
deputation from the City with a present of £500 in gold. At the Bars
of Aldgate she was met by the Mayor, who gave her the City Sword. The
order of the procession is related by a contemporary as follows:—

  “First, the citizens’ children walked before her magnificently
  dressed; after followed gentlemen habited in velvets of all sorts,
  some black, others in white, yellow, violet and carnation; others
  wore satins or taffety, and some damasks of all colours, having
  plenty of gold buttons; afterwards followed the Mayor, with the
  City Companies, and the chiefs or masters of the several trades;
  after them, the Lords, richly habited, and the most considerable
  knights; next came the ladies, married and single, in the midst of
  whom was the Queen herself, mounted on a small white ambling nag,
  the housings of which were fringed with gold thread; about her
  were six lacqueys, habited in vests of cloth of gold. The Queen
  herself was dressed in violet velvet, and was then about forty
  years of age, and ‘rather fresh-coloured.’ Before her were six
  lords bareheaded, each carrying in his hand a golden mace, and some
  others bearing the arms and crown. Behind her followed the archers,
  as well of the first as the second guard.... She was followed by
  her sister, named Madame Elizabeth, in truth a beautiful princess,
  who was also accompanied by ladies both married and single. Then
  might you hear the firing of divers pieces of artillery, bombards
  and canons, and many rejoicings made in the City of London; and
  afterwards the Queen, being in triumph and royal magnificence in
  her palace and castle of Oycemestre [Westminster], took it into
  her head to go and hear mass at Paules, that is to say, at the
  church of St. Paul, and she was attended by six hundred guards,
  besides the cere, that is to say the servants of lords and nobles.”
  (_Antiquarian Repertory._)

On the 10th of August the remains of the late King were buried
according to the forms of the Book of Common Prayer. It was not long,
however, before every one understood clearly the mind of the Queen.

On the 1st of October Mary rode through the City to Westminster for her
Coronation. Sharpe notes the significant fact that the daily service
at St. Paul’s was not held because all the priests not suspended for
Protestantism were wanted at Westminster Abbey.

Queen Mary was crowned with every possible care to return to the old
ritual. Fresh oil, blessed by the Bishop of Arras, had been brought
over; she was afraid that St. Edward’s Chair had been polluted by her
brother, the Protestant, sitting in it; she had therefore another chair
sent by the Pope. The death of Edward took place on the 6th of July
1553, the Coronation of Mary on the 1st of October. The Queen must have
requested the Pope to send her the chair immediately on her accession
if that chair had arrived within eighty-five days.

In November Lady Jane Grey, her husband, two of his brothers, and
Cranmer, were tried at the Guildhall and sentenced to death; but
execution was delayed. Probably in the case of Lady Jane Grey the
sentence would never have been carried out had it not been for Wyatt’s
Rebellion in January 1554. The ostensible cause was the Spanish match,
which was regarded with the greatest dislike and suspicion by the whole
people—“Yea, and thereat allmost eche man was abashed, looking daylie
for worse matters to grow shortly after.” When the Rebellion broke
out the City stood loyally by the Queen: the Companies set watch; no
munitions of war were allowed to go out of the City; chains were set
up at the Bridge foot; and 500 men were hurriedly raised and equipped.
Mary herself showed the courage of her race. She rode into the City and
met the citizens at the Guildhall, making them a very spirited speech.
She spoke in a loud voice so that everyone should hear. No action
in her reign shows her nearly so well as this natural and courageous
speech.

The following is Mary’s speech as given by Maitland:—

  “In my owne Person I am come unto you, to tell you that which
  yourselves already doe see and know; I mean, the traiterous and
  seditious Number of the _Kentish Rebels_, that are assembled
  against Us and You: Their Pretence, as they say, is to resist a
  Marriage between Us and the Prince of _Spain_. Of all their Plots,
  pretended Quarrels and evil-contrived Articles, you have been made
  privy.... What I am, loving Subjects, you right well know, your
  Queene, to whom at my Coronation, when I was wedded to the Realme,
  and to the Lawes of the same (the Spousal Ring whereof I have on
  my Finger, which never hitherto was, nor hereafter shall be left
  off), ye promised your Allegeance and Obedience unto me; and that
  I am the right and true Inheritor to the _English_ Crown, I not
  only take all _Christendome_ to Witness, but also your Acts of
  Parliaments confirming the same.

  And this I say further unto you in the Word of a Prince, I cannot
  tell how naturally a Mother loveth her Children, for I was never
  the Mother of any; but certainly, if a Prince and Governour may as
  naturally love their Subjects, as the Mother doth her Child, then
  assure yourselves, that I, being your Soveraigne Lady and Queene,
  doe as earnestly and tenderly love and favour you; and I, thus
  loving you, cannot but thinke, that you as heartily and faithfully
  love me againe; and so, this Love bound together in the Knot of
  Concord, we shall be able, I doubt not, to give these Rebels a
  short and speedy Overthrow....

  But if, as my Progenitors have done before, it might please God
  that I might leave some Fruit of my Body to be your Governour, I
  trust you would not only rejoice thereat, but also I know it would
  be to your great Comfort; and certainly if I either did know or
  thinke that this Marriage should either turne to the Danger or Loss
  of any of you, my loving Subjects, or to the Detriment of any Part
  of the Royal Estate of this _English_ Realme, I would never consent
  thereunto, neither would I ever marry, whilst I lived.

  Wherefore, good Subjects, plucke up your Hearts, and, like true
  Men, stand fast with your lawful Prince against these Rebels, both
  ours and yours, and fear them not, for I assure you, I do not, and
  will leave with you my Lord _Howard_ and my Lord Treasurer, to be
  assistant with my Lord-Maior, for the Safe-guard of the City from
  Spoile and Sackage, which is the onely Scope of this rebellious
  Company.” (Maitland, vol. i. p. 249.)

The failure of the revolt was due to the spirited and prompt action of
the City.

All this belongs to the history of the country. Yet we cannot pass
over the execution of Lady Jane Grey. It is the most melancholy of
all the many tragedies which belong to the Tower during the fifteenth
and sixteenth centuries. Perhaps it seemed necessary at the time, in
order to prevent other risings like that of Wyatt, in the same way that
it had seemed necessary to Henry VII. that the young Earl of Warwick
should be removed; and later to Elizabeth that Mary Queen of Scots
should no longer be an occasion of conspiracy. At the same time it is
wonderful that it should have been thought even possible to bring to
the scaffold this girl of sixteen who had been made to play a part.
The story of her execution and of her noble words, told with simple
directness by Holinshed, cannot be read without tears:—

  “By this time was there a scaffold made upon the greene over
  against the White Tower, for the ladie Jane to die upon, who being
  nothing at all abashed, neither with feare of hir owne death, which
  then approched, neither with the sight of the dead carcasse of
  hir husband when he was brought into the chapell, came forth, the
  lieutenant leading hir, with countenance nothing abashed, nor hir
  eies anything moistened with teares, with a booke in hir hand,
  wherein she praied untill she came to the said scaffold. Whereon
  when she was mounted, this noble yoong lady as she was indued with
  singular gifts both of learning and knowledge so was she as patient
  and mild as anie lambe at hir execution, and a little before hir
  death uttered these words:—

  ‘Good people I am come hither to die, and by a law I am condemned
  to the same. My offence against the queenes highness was onelie in
  consent to the device of other, which now is deemed treason: but
  it was never of my seeking, but by counsell of those who should
  seem to have further understanding of things than I, which knew
  little of the law and much lesse of the titles to the crowne.
  But touching the procurement and desire thereof by me, or on my
  behalfe, I doo wash my hands in innocencie thereof before God,
  and the face of all you (good Christian people) this daie.’ And
  therewith she wroong her hands wherein she had hir booke. Then
  (said she) ‘I praie you all good Christian people, to beare me
  witnesse that I die a true Christian woman and that I looke to be
  saved by none other meanes, but onlie by the mercie of God, in the
  bloud of his onlie sonne Jesus Christ: and I confesse that when I
  did know the word of God, I neglected the same, and loved myselfe
  and the world, and therefore this plague and punishment is justlie
  and worthlie happened unto me for my sins, and yet I thanke God of
  his goodnesse, that he hath given me a time and respit to repent.
  And now, good people, while I am alive I praie you assist me with
  your praiers.’ Then kneeling downe she said the psalme of _Miserere
  mei Deus_ in English, and then stood up and gave hir maid (called
  mistress Ellin) hir gloves and handkercher, and hir booke she also
  gave to maister Bridges the lieutenant of the Tower, and so untied
  her gowne: and the executioner pressed to helpe her off with it,
  but she desired him to let hir alone, and turned hir toward hir
  two gentlewomen, who helped hir off therewith, and with hir other
  attires, and they gave hir a faire handkercher to put about hir
  eies. Then the executioner kneeled downe and asked her forgiveness,
  whom she forgave most willinglie. Then he willed her to stand upon
  the straw, which doone, she saw the blocke and then she said, I
  praie you dispatch me quickly. Then she kneeled down saieng, Will
  you take it off before I laie me downe? Whereunto the executioner
  answered, No, Madame. Then tied she the handkercher about her eies
  and feeling for the blocke she said, Where is it? Where is it? One
  of the standers by guided her thereunto and she laid downe hir head
  upon the blocke and then stretched forth her bodie and said, Lord,
  into thy hands I commend my spirit; and so finished hir life.”
  (Holinshed, vol. iv. p. 22.)

[Illustration: LADY JANE GREY (1537–1554)

After the portrait in the Collection of the Earl of Stamford and
Warrington]

Mary’s first Parliament met with the celebration of mass, which was
ominous; but it was not too compliant: it was ready to restore the
situation as it was in the last years of Henry VIII.; it was unwilling
to submit to Rome; and it refused absolutely to restore the Church
property. Further, it presented a petition against the proposed foreign
marriage. Mary’s second Parliament, more obedient to the will of the
Queen, gave its consent to the proposed marriage, but refused to
re-enact the statute for the burning of heretics. Her third Parliament
went a step farther: it re-enacted the statute for the burning of
heretics; it agreed to reconciliation with Rome; but it refused, like
its predecessors, to sanction the surrender of Church lands. They were
ready to obey their sovereign in matters of faith: the soul may always
be left to the care of the Church; but property—property—that, if you
please, belongs to the Lay mind. Convocation, on the other hand, was
very thorough: it denounced the Book of Common Prayer; it demanded
the suppression of the Catechism; it recommended violent measures
against the clergy who should deny the Real Presence and against those
who should not put away their wives. This meant Revolution. Hosts of
priests, and those who still survived from the monasteries, rejoiced
to say mass once more, even in the ruined and desecrated churches that
were left to them. It meant Restoration. Priests sprang up everywhere
from the ground—how had they lived for ten years? Priests in the
villages and the parish churches put on their old robes; dragged out
the censing vessels; replaced the Host. Ex-monks who had been pensioned
from the monasteries; ex-friars who had received no pensions but had
been simply turned into the street; ecclesiastics from abroad;—all
came, eager to revive the forbidden worship. They looked around them
ruefully at the dishonoured shrines and the ruined chapels: it would
take centuries to make everything as it had been; but still—one must
try.

Meantime, think, if you can, of the deadly hatred which these priests
must have felt towards those who had done these mischiefs; think of
the silent satisfaction with which even the best of them would witness
the execution of one who had been a leader—a Hooper or a Latimer—in
bringing about this destruction. But the destruction was stayed. Holy
Church was back again, and of course for ever. The Great Rebellion,
they thought, was ended. As for the beneficed clergy in possession,
many conformed for fear and for safety; very few indeed gave up their
wives; happy were the contumacious if their contumacy brought no worse
consequence than to beg their bread on the road; happy if it did not
lead to a speedy trial, conviction, and the certainty of becoming a
fiery example. They might have made up their minds at the outset that
Mercy was not a quality for which Mary would be conspicuous. Before the
Fires of Smithfield began there were the executions for the Rebellion
of Wyatt. It was an excellent opportunity for winning the hearts of
the people; Lady Jane Grey’s party never had the smallest chance: she
herself might have been allowed to be at liberty with no danger to the
Queen, while to execute her boy-husband was as barbarous and useless
as to execute herself. Fifty persons, however, officers, knights, and
gentlemen, were put to death in consequence of the Rebellion. Four
hundred common men were hanged about London. Fifty were hanged on
gibbets, and there left to hang a great part of the summer.

[Illustration: ST. PETER AD VINCULA, OVERLOOKING TOWER GREEN

E. Gardner’s Collection.]

Meantime, the people of London—partly exasperated by the sight of
these gibbets; partly hating the Spanish marriage; partly hating the
break-up of the Reformation—showed their minds in every possible way.
They shot at preachers of Papistry; they dressed up a cat like a Roman
Priest, and hanged it on a gallows in Cheapside; they found a girl
who pretended to receive messages from a spirit. It was called the
Spirit in the Wall. When the Eucharist was carried through Smithfield
a man tried to knock the holy elements out of the priest’s hands. And
on Easter Day a priest saying mass in St. Margaret’s, Westminster, was
attacked by a man with a knife.

The Marian Persecution began in January 1555. The Queen issued a
proclamation that bonfires should be lit in various places in the City
to show the people’s joy and gladness for the abolition of heresies.
This was the signal for the martyrdoms. John Rogers, Prebendary of
St. Paul’s, was burned, to begin with, at Smithfield; Hooper, at
Gloucester; Ferrar at St. David’s; Rowland Taylor at Hadleigh; Lawrence
Saunders at Coventry; William Flower at Westminster; John Cardmaker at
Smithfield; John Bradford at Smithfield. It is enough to state that
the martyrs of this Persecution were two hundred and eighty-eight in
number: including five Bishops, twenty-one clergy, fifty-five women,
four children, and two hundred and three laymen. Of the laymen, only
eight were gentlemen. I will invite consideration of this fact later on.

The flames of martyrdom lasted till within a month of Mary’s end. It is
difficult to understand how the Bishops could believe that the burning
of this kind of heretic stamped out heresy. Hundreds, nay, thousands,
of families went in perpetual mourning for the death of brother or
cousin, a martyr faithful to the end. The Bishops might have understood
the signs of the times: they might have seen the Mayor and Aldermen
trying vainly to show conviction rather than obedience in attending
all the processions and functions of the Church at which the people
looked on sullenly and with murmurs; they might have listened to the
wisdom of Cardinal Pole, who pointed out to the Queen and the Council
that these severities were destructive to the Catholic Faith in the
country. The Persecution reads like the revenge of a revengeful woman.
“Burn! Burn! Burn!” she cries. “To avenge the tears of my mother; to
avenge the unhappiness of my childhood; to avenge the act that made me
illegitimate; to avenge the marriage of Anne Boleyn. Burn! Burn! Burn!”

Everybody knows the eager hopes and expectation with which Mary looked
forward to the birth of a child. The tales of the common people about
the Queen’s supposed pregnancy are illustrated by a story in Holinshed.

  “There came to see me, whome I did both heare and see, one Isabel
  Malt, a woman dwelling in Aldersgate Street in Horne allie, not
  farre from the house where this present book was printed, who
  before witnesse made this declaration unto us, that she being
  delivered of a man-child upon Whitsuntide in the morning, which was
  the eleventh daie of June Anno 1555, there came to hir the Lord
  North, and another lord to her unknowne, dwelling then about old
  Fish Street, demanding of hir if she would part with hir child, and
  would swear that she never knew nor had no such child. Which if
  she would, hir sonne (they said) should be well provided for, she
  should take no care for it, with manie faire offers if she would
  part with the child. After that came other women also, of whome one
  (she said) should have been the rocker: but she in no wise would
  let go hir sonne, who at the writing hereof, being alive and called
  Timothie Malt, was of the age of thirteene yeares and upward. Thus
  much (I saie) I heard of the woman hirself. What credit is to be
  given to hir relation, I deale not withall, but leave it to the
  libertie of the reader to believe it they that list: to them that
  list not, I have no further warrant to assure them.” (Vol. iv. p.
  83.)

[Illustration: _W.A. Mansell & Co._

EXECUTION OF LADY JANE GREY

From the painting by Paul Delaroche in the Tate Gallery, London.

_p. 58._]

The same Chronicler gives us a glimpse of the divided state of
the popular mind on the occasion of the removal of Dr. Sands,
Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge, to London, to be tried for heresy. As he
left Cambridge the Papists came out to jeer at him, and his friends
to mourn for him. When he got to London, one like a milk-wife hurled
a stone at him, which struck him in the breast. When he came to Tower
Hill a woman cried out, “Fie on thee, thou knave, thou traitor, thou
heretic!” For which she was upbraided by another woman who called out,
“Good gentleman: God be thy comfort and give thee strength to stand in
God’s cause even to the end!” When, after some weeks, they brought him
from the Tower to the Marshalsea the people had gone round already, and
“poperie was unsaverie.” Everywhere they prayed to God to comfort him
and to strengthen him in the truth. In the Marshalsea, Sands fell into
the hands of a Protestant keeper, who gave him all the indulgence he
could. And in the end he escaped into Holland, and there stayed till
the death of Mary.

The examples of Henry the Seventh’s reign were not likely to be lost so
soon. A lad of eighteen named William Fetherstone, a miller’s son, was
reported to be at Eltham in Kent giving himself out for King Edward,
who, he declared, was not dead at all. Was the boy mad? It is not
known. He himself declared that he had been made to say this: it is
quite possible that certain hot-headed Protestants thought to set up
King Edward again, and so to get back the new religion. Such a thing
can never be attempted without encouragement—perhaps the lad was soft
and easily moulded. Being brought before the Council he rambled in his
talk; wherefore he was committed to the Marshalsea as a lunatic. That
conclusion did not prevent them from whipping the boy all round the
Palace at Westminster and all the way from Westminster to Smithfield.
They then packed him off to his birthplace in the North, where he might
have rested in peace; but the unlucky wretch began to talk again about
Edward VI., who, he said, was still alive. Therefore they brought him
up to London and hanged him at Tyburn.

[Illustration: Certaine Bishops talking with Master Bradford in prison.]

[Illustration: The description of the burning of Master Iohn Bradford
Preacher, and Iohn Lease a Prentice.]

To return to the other points connected with London during this reign.
They are not many. One of the difficulties was the rush into London of
Spaniards who came over after the marriage of Philip and Mary. It is
interesting to note how with every consort of foreign origin the people
of the country to which he or she belonged flocked over to London in
multitudes. After the Norman Conquest came troops of Normans; after the
accession of Henry II. came Angevins; after the arrival of Eleanor of
Provence came men of Provence; and now came Spaniards. Was London,
then, always considered a Promised Land to those who lived outside?
It was but a poor Land of Promise in these years, when all the world
was torn by civil and religious wars. However, the Spaniards were
everywhere: “a man should have mete in the streets for one Englishman
above iiij Spanyardes”; the Court was crammed with Spaniards; and
Philip, so far from attempting to win the hearts of the English nobles,
held himself aloof with Castilian ceremony. We hear little more of
the Spaniards after Philip’s departure: probably they found London an
unfavourable soil for a permanent settlement and withdrew; the Spanish
element as shown in the names of the Londoners at the present day, or
in the Parish Registers, is small indeed.

[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE BELL TOWER, WHERE PRINCESS ELIZABETH WAS
IMPRISONED BY HER SISTER QUEEN MARY

E. Gardner’s Collection.]

The jealousy of foreigners, especially of Spaniards, caused trouble in
the City throughout this reign. There were rumours that thousands of
Spaniards were coming over; the old jealousy of the Hanseatic League
was renewed: the Mayor gave orders that work should not be given to
foreigners; they were forbidden to open shops in the City; they were
not allowed to keep school; their shutters were forcibly closed. One
feels that the situation of the foreigner in the City was anything but
pleasant, especially if he were a Spaniard.

The submission of Juries to the Judges was expected in matters of
treason, if not in other things. The case of Nicholas Throgmorton,
charged with high treason and complicity in the Rebellion of Wyatt,
proves this. Doubtless it was in opposition to the Judge’s charge
that the Jury brought in a verdict of Not Guilty. For this they were
summoned before the Star Chamber, where four of the twelve made
submission; the remaining eight were sent to prison, where they
remained for six months. They were then brought before the Star Chamber
again, where they defended their finding as being in accordance with
their own consciences. As if Juries in matters of treason could have
consciences! So they were sent back to prison, and only got out by
paying a fine—some of £44, some of £60 apiece.

In 1556 the City gave Mary a loan of £6000.

War with France was declared in June 1557. The City was instructed
to put its munitions of war on a sound and serviceable footing.
It complied, and raised a force of 500 men, which joined the army
commanded by Lord Pembroke. In less than a month the Queen sent a
letter to the Mayor informing him of the departure of Philip and
commanding him to raise another force of 1000 men. After a good deal
of protest and grumbling, and after vain appeals to the liberties and
franchises of the City respecting the sending of men on active service,
submission was made and the men were got together. This was early in
August. But it does not seem that they were sent. On 27th August the
French were defeated at St. Quentin. Towards the end of the year it was
known that Calais was in a dangerous position. On 2nd January a message
arrived from the Queen, ordering the despatch of 500 men at once. They
were wanted for the relief of Calais. But Calais fell on the 7th. Then
the City was called upon to furnish another 2000 men. On the 13th the
Queen wrote to say that a violent storm had crippled her fleet—the men
were to be kept back, but in readiness. Then it was heard that Philip’s
forces were on their way to Flanders, under the Duke of Savoy, and that
the Channel was kept open by a Spanish fleet. A regiment of 500 was
therefore sent off to Dover in order to be shipped for Dunkirk.

In March 1558 Mary raised a loan of £20,000 on the security of the
Crown lands, from the City Companies. The greater Companies contributed
£16,983:6:3, the rest being made up by the smaller Companies. The
Mercers gave £3275; the smaller Companies sums varying from £50 to £300.

For the better regulation of trade an Act of Parliament was passed in
1554 by which non-residents were not allowed to sell their wares in any
town.

  “Whereas the Cities, Boroughs, Towns Corporate and Market Towns,
  did heretofore flourish, where Youth were well educated, and
  civilly brought up, and were highly serviceable to the Government;
  but were brought to great Decay, and were like to come to utter
  Ruin and Destruction, by Reason that Persons dwelling out of the
  said Cities and Towns came and took away the Relief and Subsistence
  of the said Cities and Towns by selling their Wares there: For
  Remedy whereof, be it enacted, That no Person or Persons dwelling
  any where out of the said Cities or Towns (the Liberties of the two
  Universities only excepted) shall hereafter sell, or cause to be
  sold, by Retail, any Woollen and Linnen Cloth (except of their
  own making), or any Haberdashery, Grocery, or Mercery Ware, at
  or within any of the said Cities, Boroughs, Towns Corporate, or
  Market Towns within this Realm (except in open Fairs), on Pain to
  forfeit and lose, for every Time so offending, six shillings and
  eight Pence, and the whole Wares so sold, offered or profered to be
  sold.” (Maitland, vol. i. p. 251.)

[Illustration: PHILIP II. OF SPAIN (1527–1598)

From the painting by Alonso Sanchez Coello in the Berlin Museum.]

An attempt was made to reduce the number of Taverns in London and
Westminster. There were to be no more than forty in the City and three
in Westminster. But the law was not enforced nor obeyed.

In this reign we first hear of the abuse of prisons. One of the two
Compters then stood in Bread Street. The warden or keeper, one Richard
Husbands, was accused of maltreating his prisoners barbarously; also
of receiving men and women of criminal and disreputable character,
and giving them lodging within the prison for fourpence a night. The
Corporation therefore built a larger and more convenient compter in
Wood Street, to which they removed the prisoners, appointing a new
keeper in place of Husbands.

In January 1557 one Christopher Draper, Alderman of Cordwainer Street
Ward, employed a man to walk nightly about the streets of the Ward,
ringing a bell and calling on the people to take care of their fires
and lights; to help the poor; and to pray for the dead. This was the
origin of the office of Bellman.

In this year arrived the first Ambassador from Russia. He was wrecked
on the coast of Scotland. The Russia Company sent officers into Holland
with money and necessaries, and with orders to bring him to London.
On his arrival he was met by eighty merchants on horseback, richly
accoutred and with gold chains round their necks, and was taken to a
house in Highgate, where he was royally entertained for the night.
Next day he rode into the City and was received by the Mayor and Lord
Montague, who escorted him to his quarters in Fenchurch Street. During
the whole of his stay his charges were defrayed by the Russia Company.

The profuse expenditure expected of the Mayor and Sheriffs during their
year of office, made many citizens who ought to have filled these
posts, retire into the country rather than put themselves to such great
expense.

The Common Council took up the matter: in a very curious array of
ordinances it was provided among other things

  “That thenceforth the Mayor should have no more than one course
  either at Dinner or Supper; and that on a Festival, being a Flesh
  Day, to consist of no more than seven Dishes, whether hot or cold;
  and on every Festival, being a Fish Day, eight Dishes; and on every
  common Flesh Day, six Dishes; and on every common Fish Day, seven
  Dishes, exclusive of Brawn, Collops with Eggs, Sallads, Pottage,
  Butter, Cheese, Eggs, Herrings, Sprats and Shrimps, together with
  all sorts of Shell-fish and Fruits: That the Aldermen and Sheriffs
  should have one Dish less than the above-mentioned; and all the
  City Companies at their several Entertainments the same number of
  Dishes as the Aldermen and Sheriffs; but with this Restriction, to
  have neither Swan, Crane, nor Bustard, upon the Penalty of forty
  Shillings; etc. etc. etc.”

On the 17th of November 1558 Mary died. The bonfires which hailed the
accession of her sister were fires of rejoicing over the death of the
unhappy Queen. The whole City was united in joy, with the exception of
the Bishops and the Priests. Not only was religion concerned, but the
domination of Spain; the immigration of Spaniards; the humiliation of
the country. The general rejoicing was marked by the keeping the day
of Elizabeth’s accession as a holiday for a hundred and fifty years to
come.




                               CHAPTER V

                               ELIZABETH


[Illustration: _Walker & Cockerell._

QUEEN ELIZABETH (1533–1603)

From a painting, attributed to Zuccaro, in the National Portrait
Gallery, London.]

“My Lady Elizabeth,” the Venetian Ambassador writes in the lifetime
of Queen Mary, “the daughter of Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn, was
born in 1533 (in the month of September—so that she is at present
twenty-three years of age). She is a lady of great elegance both of
body and mind, although her face may be called rather pleasing than
beautiful; she is tall and well made; her complexion fine though rather
sallow; her eyes, but, above all, her hands, which she takes care not
to conceal, are of superior beauty. In her knowledge of the Greek and
Italian languages she surpasses the Queen. She excels the Queen in the
knowledge of languages; for, in addition to Latin, she has acquired no
small acquaintance with Greek. She speaks Italian, which the Queen does
not. In this language she takes such delight, that in the presence of
Italians it is her ambition not to converse in any other. Her spirits
and understanding are admirable, as she has proved by her conduct in
the midst of suspicion and danger, when she concealed her religion and
comported herself like a good Catholic. She is proud and dignified
in her manners; for, though her mother’s condition is well-known to
her, she is also aware that this mother of hers was united to the King
in wedlock, with the sanction of the Holy Church and the concurrence
of the Primate of the realm; and though misled with regard to her
religion, she is conscious of having acted with good faith; nor can
this latter circumstance reflect upon her birth, since she was born in
the same faith as that professed by the Queen. Her father’s affection
she shared at least in equal measure with her sister; it is said
that she resembles her father more than the Queen does, and the King
considered them equally in his will, settling on both of them 10,000
_scudi_ per annum. Yet with this allowance she is always in debt.
And she would be much more so if she did not studiously abstain from
enlarging her establishment, and so giving greater offence to the
Queen. For indeed there is not a knight or a gentleman in the kingdom
who has not sought her service, either for himself or for some son or
brother; such is the affection and love that she commands. This is one
reason why her expenses are increased. She always alleges her poverty
as an excuse to those who wish to enter her service, and by this means
she has cleverly contrived to excite compassion, and at the same time
a greater affection; because there is no one to whom it does not
appear strange that she—the daughter of a king—should be treated in so
miserable a manner. She is allowed to live in one of her houses about
twelve miles distant from London, but she is surrounded by a number of
guards and spies, who watch her narrowly and report every movement to
the Queen. Moreover, the Queen, though she hates her most sincerely,
yet treats her in public with every outward sign of affection and
regard, and never converses with her but on pleasing and agreeable
subjects. She has also contrived to ingratiate herself with the King of
Spain, through whose influence the Queen is prevented from bastardising
her, as she certainly has it in her power to do by means of an Act of
Parliament, which would exclude her from the throne. It is believed
that but for this interference of the King, the Queen would without
more remorse chastise her in the severest manner; for whatever plots
against the Queen are discovered, my Lady Elizabeth or some of her
people may always be sure to be mentioned among the persons concerned
in them.”

Attention has already been called to the rejoicings of the people on
the death of Mary and the uplifting of that long-continued cloud. The
bells of the City were rung; bonfires were lit; loaded tables open for
all comers were spread in the streets—yea, even in that dark night of
November. A week later the new Queen rode from Hatfield to the Charter
House, where she stayed for five days; on the 28th she rode in state
to the Tower; here she remained till the 5th of December, when she
went by water to Somerset House. On the 17th of December, the body of
Mary was laid in Westminster Abbey, with the Roman Catholic Service;
on the 12th of January, the Queen returned to the Tower, and thence
on the following day she rode to Westminster. The reader has probably
remarked, in the course of this history, that neither King nor Queen,
nor Mayor nor people, ever paid the slightest regard for weather or for
season. A Royal Riding with Pageants and red cloth and tapestry, and a
procession in boats, was undertaken as readily in January, when there
is generally hard frost; in April, when there is generally east wind;
in July, when there is generally the heat of summer; or in October,
when there is generally fine weather with the repose of autumn. Season
and weather, sunshine or frost, made no difference. In her desire to
win the hearts of the people, Elizabeth probably paid no heed to the
weather, whether it was cold or not.

[Illustration: _Walker & Cockerell._

QUEEN ELIZABETH (1533–1603)

From a painting in the National Portrait Gallery, London. Painter
unknown.]

We have remarked a great change in the temper and attitude of the City
towards the Sovereign. We hear from time to time murmurings about the
City liberties; but nothing of importance. The reasons are several:
the Tudor sovereigns carefully respected those liberties which, so
to speak, made the most show; they abstained from interference with
the City elections; they would not interfere with the City Courts. As
regards the point of real importance to themselves—the raising of money
and men—their demands were generally arbitrary; witness the calls of
Mary for men and still more men. Another cause for cheerful loyalty
was that when the religious discussions were at length appeased, it
was incumbent on everybody to do his utmost for the Protestant Cause,
which became the National Cause. For these reasons we find the City
cheerfully giving to Elizabeth what it reluctantly gave, or refused to
give, to Henry the Third or Richard the Second.

It was understood by those who welcomed the Queen so joyously that
her first care must be the restoration of the Reformed Faith. Every
craftsman who threw up his cap expected so much. Fortunately, the
events of the last reign had turned the hearts of most people wholly
away from the mass. Elizabeth was fully informed as to the opinion of
the majority of her subjects; as for her own opinion, it is said that
she favoured the old Church. Perhaps so; that is to say, she would
rather, as a matter of choice, listen to the Roman Mass than to the
English Litany—it is certainly more beautiful; at the same time, one
cannot but believe that she was sincere in making her choice and in
keeping steadfast to it. Her kindness to the Catholic Faith was shown
in the relaxation of persecution. She would not at first persecute any
for believing what she herself publicly professed not to believe. Her
first step, however, clearly showed the direction of future law. She
put forth a royal proclamation ordering the cessation of disputations
and sermons, and ordered in their place the reading of the Epistle
and Gospel for the Day, with the Ten Commandments, in the vulgar
tongue. She also appointed, in the first year of her reign, certain
Commissioners, whose duty it was to visit every diocese, for the
establishment of religion according to the new Act of Parliament. Those
for London were Sir Richard Sackville, knight; Robert Horne, Doctor of
Divinity; Doctor Huicke; and Master Savage. The Commissioners visited
every parish, calling before them persons of every sort, whom they
instructed and admonished. They suppressed all the Religious Houses
that Mary had established—the Abbey of Westminster, Syon House, the
House of Shene, the Black Friars of Smithfield and those of Greenwich.
They further pulled down all the new roods and images, and burned all
the vestments, altar cloths, banners, mass books, and rood lofts. In
fact, the people showed very plainly that their minds were all for the
Protestant religion.

[Illustration: REPRESENTATION DES FEVS DE IOYE QVIFVRENT FAICTS SVR
LEAV DANS LONDRES A L’HONNEVR DE LA REYNE LA NVICT DVIOVR DE SON ENTREE

E. Gardner’s Collection.]

An Act of Uniformity followed, which forbade the use of any form of
public prayer other than that of the Prayer Book of Edward VI. with one
or two slight alterations. This book was replaced in the churches, and
service was conducted in accordance with it on Whit Sunday 1559. What
happened immediately after? A pulling out of Bibles from hiding-places;
a return to the old talk, restrained for five years for fear of
informers; an enjoyable plunge into the anti-Scriptural aspects of the
Roman Creed; and a rush for the ornaments, roods, tombs, the vestments
and the incense vessels and the candles in all the City churches. In
some cases the wafers, vestments, and altar cloths, books, banners,
and other ornaments of the churches were burned—things which had cost
thousands when they were renewed under Queen Mary. All this happened,
and an incredible amount of mischief was done before the destruction
was stopped.

There appears to have been little strength of feeling or spirit of
martyrdom among the Roman Catholics in London. They submitted; more
than this, they made no attempt to maintain their religion; their
children, if not themselves, became wholly Anglican; such Roman
Catholic worship as survived lurked in holes and corners, or was
maintained secretly by a few nobles and gentlemen. Before long,
however, the Government had to deal with that advanced form of
Protestantism which had been brought over from the Continent. In 1565
an order was issued that all the clergy were to wear the surplice.
A good number of them refused, and left their churches, with their
congregations. This was the beginning of Nonconformity. But Elizabeth
made no attempt to enforce obedience or to persecute those who
dissented.

On the 25th of May 1570, the temper of the people was plainly indicated
by their reception of a Bull from the Pope, which was actually
found nailed to the door of the Bishop of London’s Palace in Paul’s
Churchyard. It was in Latin. Holinshed gives both text and translation.

  “Pius, Bishop, servant of God’s servants, etc. Queene Elizabeth
  hath cleane put awaie the sacrifice of the masse, praiers,
  fastings, choise or difference of meats and single life. She
  invaded the kingdome, and by usurping monstrouslie the place of
  the supreme head of the Church in all England, and the cheefe
  authoritie and jurisdiction of the same, hath againe brought the
  said realem into miserable destruction. Shee hath remooved the
  noble men of England from the king’s councell. Shee hath made
  hir councell of poore, darke, beggerlie fellows, and hath placed
  them over the people. These councellors are not onlie poore and
  beggerlie, but also heretikes. Unto hir all such as are the
  woorst of the people resort, and are by hir received into safe
  protection, etc. We make it knowne that Elizabeth aforesaid, and
  as manie as stand on hir side in the matters abovenamed, have run
  into the danger of our cursse. We make it also knowen that we have
  deprived hir from that right shee pretended to have in the kingdome
  aforesaid, and also from all and every hir authoritie, dignity,
  and privilege. We charge and forbid all and every the nobles and
  subjects, and people, and others aforesaid, that they be not so
  hardie as to obey hir or hir will, or commandements or laws,
  upon paine of the like accursse upon them. We pronounce that all
  whosoever by anie occasion have taken their oth unto hir, are for
  ever discharged of such their oth, and also from all fealtie and
  service, which was due to hir by reason of hir government, etc.”
  (vol. iv. p. 253).

The crime was brought home to one John Felton, who on 4th August,
three months later, was arraigned at the Guildhall on the charge of
affixing the said Bull. Four days later he was drawn from Newgate to
St. Paul’s Churchyard and there duly hanged, cut down alive, bowelled,
and quartered. On the same day—which shows that their office was not an
easy one—the Sheriffs of London, after seeing the end of Felton, had
to accompany two young men, who had been found guilty of coining, to
Tyburn, where they suffered the same horrible punishment.

[Illustration: _Walker & Cockerell._

QUEEN ELIZABETH (1533–1603)

From a painting in the National Portrait Gallery, London. Painter
unknown.]

Meantime the Catholic enemy never relaxed his attempt to effect the
reconversion, or, failing that, the subjugation, of this country. Not
by Bulls alone did he work. Seminary priests were sent over to work
secretly upon the people and so, it was hoped, gradually to make them
ready for conversion. After the tender mercies of the last reign one
would believe that the task was hopeless: one is persuaded that even
if the secret missionaries had been allowed to put an advertisement
in the windows openly proclaiming their object they could have done no
harm. But the Queen’s Council, whether wisely or not, were extremely
jealous of these priests. They charged the City Authorities to try
every means of laying hands on them: they were to arrest all persons
who did not attend church; and to banish all strangers who did not go
to church; they were to make every stranger subscribe the Articles.
A proclamation was issued ordering English parents to remove their
children from foreign colleges; declaring that to harbour Jesuit
priests was to harbour rebels; imposing a fine upon those who did not
attend church; which involved a strict watch upon all the parishes to
find out what persons kept away. The two chief conspirators moving
about England were two priests, named Campion and Parsons. Campion was
presently arrested and, after undergoing torture, was executed in the
usual manner. Parsons got back to the Continent, where he continued in
his machinations. Catholic historians are eloquent on the sufferings of
the Catholics during this reign; we must, however, acknowledge that the
conspiracies and intrigues of such men as Campion, Allen, and Parsons
went far to explain the persecution to which they were liable.

[Illustration: QUEEN ELIZABETH (1533–1603)

From the “Ermine” portrait in the possession of the Marquis of
Salisbury.]

The failure of the Armada: the failure of Philip’s second attempt,
destroyed by tempest; the fact that the Catholic cause was now in
the minds of the people the Spanish cause, and therefore execrable;
the manifest proofs that the heart of the nation was sound for the
Queen and the Protestant religion;—did not put a stop to Catholic
spies and Catholic conspirators. The emissaries are always called
“Spanish,” though they were generally English by birth; it is probable
that Cardinal Allen found the emissaries, whose work Philip certainly
did not discourage. These emissaries were ecclesiastics, who came
over-disguised in every possible way. Those who were young called
themselves, or became, students at Oxford and Cambridge; those who
were older rode about the country disguised as simple gentlemen,
merchants, physicians; they worked secretly, everywhere with the
design of sapping the loyalty of the people towards the Queen and the
Protestant Faith. They did so at great peril, with the certainty of
tortures if they were caught; and their courage in facing the dangers
was so great that it elevates their conspiracies into the propaganda of
a sacred cause. The greatest exertions were made for their detection,
and chief among these was the means already mentioned of noting those
who did not go to church. However, it does not appear that many were
caught, and perhaps the numbers were exaggerated. Sharpe has found a
description of one whom they desired to arrest in 1596 (i. 550):—

  “A yonge man of meane and slender stature, aged about xxvj, with a
  high collored face, red nose, a warte over his left eye, havinge
  two greate teeth before, standinge out very apparant, he nameth
  himselffe Edward Harrison, borne in Westmerland; apparelled in
  a crane collored fustian dublet, rounde hose, after the frenche
  facion, an olde paire of yollowe knit neather stockes, he escaped
  without either cloake, girdle, garters or shoes.”

[Illustration: QUEEN ELIZABETH (1533–1603)

From the engraving by Isaac Oliver. A. Rischgitz’ Collection.]

The constant discussion of religious matters and agitation on points of
Faith produced the natural phenomenon of religious enthusiasts, strange
sects, and mad beliefs.

The growth of the Puritan spirit is shown by a letter written by the
Lord Mayor on the 14th of January 1583. A large number of people
were assembled one Sunday for Sport, _i.e._ Bear-baiting, in Paris
Gardens; they were standing round the pit on twelve scaffolds, when the
scaffolds all fell down at once, so that many were killed and wounded.
The Mayor wrote as follows to the Lord Treasurer:—

  “That it gave great occasion to acknowledge the hand of God, for
  such abuse of his Sabbath-day; and moved him in Conscience to
  beseech his Lordship to give Order for Redress of such Contempt
  of God’s service. And that he had for that end treated with some
  Justices of Peace of that County, who shewed themselves to have
  very good Zeal, but alledged Want of Commission; which they humbly
  referred to his honourable Wisdom.” (Maitland, vol. i. p. 267.)

After Religion, Charity. The bequests to religious purposes had become
fewer and of smaller importance during the fifteenth century: they
were almost discontinued in the reign of Henry VII.; they ceased under
Henry VIII. and his son; and they hardly revived during the reign
of Mary. There can be no surer indication of the change of thought.
Under Elizabeth we have not only a complete change of thought but the
commencement of a new era in Charity. We now enter upon the period of
Endowed Charities. Not that they were before unknown, but that they
were grafted upon and formed part of Religious Endowments, as St.
Anthony’s School, which belonged to the Religious House of that name,
and Whittington’s Bedesmen, who formed part of Whittington’s College.
The Religious element now disappears except for the erection of a
chapel for the Bedesmen. The list of Charitable Endowments founded in
this century is large and very laudable. They consist of colleges,
schools, and almshouses, not in London only, but by London citizens for
their native places, for Oxford, and for Cambridge.

[Illustration: SIR PHILIP SIDNEY AND HIS BROTHER LORD LISLE

From the picture in the possession of Lord De L’Isle and Dudley,
Penshurst Place, Kent.]

Of London as a City of Soldiers we hear much less under Elizabeth,
despite the contingent sent to fight the Spanish invader, than under
any king. London no longer sallies forth ten thousand strong for this
claimant or that. She finds, however, the money for ships, and on
occasion she raises and equips for foreign service, 400 men, 600 men,
1000 men, at the order of the Queen.

The first appearance of Londoners under arms was a mere parade, to
which the City sent 1400 men. They were equipped by the twelve
principal Companies, who also supplied officers from their own body.
In 1562 the Queen asked the City for a force of 600 men. These were
raised. Next year she applied again for 1000 men for the holding of
Havre; only 400, however, were wanted. These sailed for Havre, but the
garrison being attacked by the plague there was no fighting, and the
town surrendered.

In 1572 the Queen in a letter to the Mayor commanded him to raise a
large body of men, young and strong, for instruction in the Military
Arts. Accordingly the Companies chose young men to the number of 3000;
armed them; placed officers of experience over them, and instructed
them. This appears to have been the beginning of the London Trained
Bands. In May of the same year they were reviewed by the Queen. In
1574 the City was called upon to furnish 400 soldiers for the Queen’s
service.

In 1578 the City was ordered to provide 2000 arquebusiers. Scarcely
had the order been received when there came another for 2000 men to be
raised and kept in readiness.

On the 8th March 1587, the Queen sent a letter, followed by one from
the Privy Council, to the same effect, informing the Mayor that certain
intelligence had been received of warlike preparations being made in
foreign parts, and calling upon the City to provide a force of 10,000
men fully armed and equipped, of whom 6000 were to be enrolled under
Captains and Ensigns and to be trained at times convenient.

The men were raised in the following numbers from each ward:—

  Farringdon Ward Within    807
  Bassishaw                 177
  Bread Street              386
  Dowgate                   384
  Lime Street                99
  Farringdon Without       1264
  Aldgate Ward              347
  Billingsgate              365
  Aldersgate                232
  Cornhill                  191
  Cheap                     358
  Cordwainer                301
  Langbourne                349
  Coleman Street Ward       229
  Broad Street              373
  Bridge Ward Within        383
  Castle Baynard            551
  Queenhithe                404
  Tower Street              444
  Walbrook                  290
  Vintry                    364
  Portsoken                 243
  Candlewick                215
  Cripplegate               925
  Bishopsgate               326
                         ——————
              Total      10,007

We may apply this total in order to make a guess at the population
of London in 1587. Thus supposing _x_ to be the percentage of the
population taken from each ward to fill the ranks, since the population
of each ward = the number taken, multiplied by 100, and divided by _x_,

Therefore the whole population of the City

  = whole number taken, multiplied by 100, and divided by _x_
  = 1,000,700 ÷ _x_

If 10 per cent of the population were taken we should have a total of
100,070 or roughly 100,000.

[Illustration: _W. A. Mansell & Co._

THE SPANISH ARMADA (THE FIRST ENGAGEMENT)

From Pine’s engravings of the House of Lords tapestry hangings.]

The City also supplied a fleet of sixteen ships, the largest in the
river, fully found, with four light pinnaces, and paid the men during
their services. It was with these ships that Drake ran into Cadiz and
Lisbon, destroyed a great quantity of shipping, and threw into the sea
the military materials that had been accumulated there.

The Earl of Leicester, who was in command at Tilbury, received 1000 of
the London force only, and that on condition that they brought their
own provisions.

The London men wore a uniform of white with white caps, and the City
arms in scarlet on back and front. Some carried arquebuses; some were
halberdiers; some were pikemen. They marched in companies according to
their arms. Their officers rode beside the men dressed in black velvet.
They were preceded by billmen, corresponding to the modern pioneers; by
a company of whifflers, i.e. trumpeters; and in the midst marched six
Ensigns in white satin faced with black sarsenet, and rich scarves. The
dress of officers and men was just as useless and unfit for continued
work as could well be devised. It is melancholy to find that the Earl
of Leicester, who was in command at Tilbury, held a very poor opinion
of the London contingent. “I see,” he writes to Walsingham, “that their
service will be little, except they have their own captains, and having
them I look for none at all by them when we shall meet the enemy.”
Most fortunately there was no enemy to meet, and the heroism of the
Londoners remains unchallenged. The Captain of the London Trained Bands
was Martin Bond, citizen, whose tomb remains at St. Helen’s Church.

When the danger was over, the Aldermen looked to it that the price of
provisions should not be raised when the sick and wounded were brought
home. But it was some time before the welcome news was received of the
final dispersion of the invading fleet. The first public notification
was made in a sermon preached at Paul’s Cross by the Dean of St.
Paul’s, in the presence of the Mayor and Aldermen and the Livery
Companies in their best gowns.

On the 18th November the Queen rode into the City in state and attended
a Thanksgiving Service.

Sharpe calls attention to the fact that two at least of the great naval
commanders were well-known in the City:—

  “Both Frobisher and Hawkins owned property in the City, and in all
  probability resided there, like their fellow-seaman and explorer,
  Sir Humphrey Gilbert, who was living in Red Cross Street, in the
  parish of St. Giles, Cripplegate, in 1583, the year that he met
  his death at sea. The same parish claims Frobisher, whose remains
  (excepting his entrails, which were interred at Plymouth, where
  he died) lie buried in St. Giles’s Church, and to whom a mural
  monument was erected by the Vestry in 1888, just three centuries
  after the defeat of the Armada, to which he had contributed so
  much. If Hawkins himself did not reside in the City, his widow had
  a mansion house in Mincing Lane. He, too, had probably lived there;
  for although he died and was buried at sea, a monument was erected
  to his memory and to that of Katherine, his first wife, in the
  church of St. Dunstan-in-the-East. There is one other—a citizen of
  London and son of an alderman—whose name has been handed down as
  having taken an active part in the defence of the kingdom at this
  time, not at sea, but on land. A monument in the recently restored
  church of St. Helen, Bishopsgate, tells us that Martin Bond, son of
  Alderman William Bond, ‘was captaine in ye yeare 1588 at ye campe
  at Tilbury, and after remained chief captaine of ye trained bands
  of this Citty until his death.’ The monument represents him as
  sitting in a tent guarded by two sentinels, with a page holding a
  horse.” (Sharpe, vol. i. pp. 544–545.)

In 1591 a further contingent of 400 men was ordered. In 1594 the
City was called upon to raise 450 men. In 1596 a message came to the
Mayor and Aldermen from the Queen. They were listening to a sermon
at Paul’s Cross. The letter commanded them to raise a thousand men
immediately. They rose and left the sermon, and instantly set to
work. Before eight of the clock they had raised their men. But the
order was countermanded, and the men were disbanded. On Easter Day
in the morning another message came to the same effect, and then—it
is a curious story—the Mayor and Aldermen went round to the churches
in the respective wards. Remember that on such a day every man in
the City would be in church. The Mayor shut the doors, picked his
men, and before noon had raised his thousand men. This order also was
countermanded, and the men returned home. A strange interruption of an
Easter morning’s service!

In the same year the Queen asked for more men. Then the City Common
Council expostulated. On the sea service alone, they pointed out, the
City had spent 10,000 marks within the last few years. In 1597 they
raised first 500 men, then 300 more, and sent the Queen £60,000 on
mortgage. In 1598, on a new alarm of another Spanish invasion, the City
found sixteen ships and a force of 6000 men.

It will thus be seen that during this reign the City furnished over
6000 fully equipped soldiers for active service; that it raised at
an hour’s notice, on two separate occasions, 1000 men ready for
immediate service; that it raised a force of Trained Bands 3000
strong; that on occasion it could increase this number to 10,000;
that it could fit out for sea a fleet of twenty or thirty ships.
I do not think that the expenditure of the City on these military
services has ever been published, but it must have been very great.
A corresponding expenditure at the present time would be enormous;
it would be expressed in many millions. This simple fact both proves
and illustrates the tried loyalty of the City. The time, however, had
gone by when the Londoners could, and did, send out an army capable
of deposing one king and setting up another. That power and that
spirit died with the accession of the Tudors. In the beginning of
Elizabeth’s reign the citizens even prayed to be excused the practice
of arms even as a volunteer force, seeing that “the most parte of
those our apprentices and handy craftesmen who continually are kept at
work; who also, if they should have that libertie to be trayned and
drawn from their workes in these matters, wolde thereby fall into such
idleness and insolency that many would never be reduced agayne into any
good order or service.”

[Illustration: _A_ View _of the_ House _of_ Peers, Queen Elizabeth _on
the Throne, the_ Commons _attending_.

_Taken from a Painted Print in the Cottonian Library._

_The Knights of Shires & Burgesses (as they call them) which constitute
y^e lower house of Parliament presenting their Speaker._]

We have seen repeated proofs that the City was never friendly towards
foreigners. At this time there were many causes beside the old trade
jealousy why the people should view strangers with an unfriendly eye.
During the last reign the City swarmed with Spaniards; from the very
first day of this long reign until the very last, Spain never ceased
plotting, conspiring, and carrying on war with the Queen and the new
Religion. In the foreign merchants’ houses the conspirators found a
refuge. There were, again, thousands of immigrants from Flanders or
Spain, flying from religious persecution; and though many of the people
settled down to steady industry, there were many who were by no means
the virtuous, law-abiding persons, such as the present age would expect
of Huguenots.

From time to time, partly in order to allay the jealousy and terror
of the people, partly for the sake of getting at the facts, there was
a numbering of the strangers. Thus, in 1567, such a numbering showed
45 Scots; 428 French; 45 Spaniards and Portuguese; 140 Italians;
2030 Dutch; 44 Burgundians; two Danes; and one Liégeois: in all 2735
persons. In 1580 another census of aliens was taken; wherein it was
shown that there were 2302 Dutch; 1838 French; 116 Italians; 1542
English born of foreign parents; of other nations not specified
447; and of persons not certified 217: in all 6462. In 1593 a third
census showed 5259 strangers in London. These figures are not without
interest. In the first year we find a large number of Dutch; they are
fugitives. In the next we find that the whole number of strangers has
more than doubled: there has been a large accession of Huguenots; in
the third census the numbers have gone down a little. In our time a
great outcry has been raised over the invasion of the Town by 50,000
Polish Jews; that means a proportion of one in a hundred. In 1560 there
were 6500 for a population of, say, 120,000, which means one in twenty
(approximately). Now, one in twenty is a large fraction out of the
general population.

At one time the hatred of the Apprentices grew so irrepressible that a
conspiracy like that of Evil May Day was formed among the Apprentices,
with the design of murdering all the foreigners. The conspiracy was
happily discovered, and the conspirators laid by the heels in Newgate.
A Petition to the Queen against the grievous encroachments of aliens
will be found in Appendix III.

[Illustration: WILLIAM CECIL, FIRST BARON BURGHLEY (1520–1598)

From the painting by Marc Gheeraedts (?) in the National Portrait
Gallery, London.]

The domestic history of Elizabeth’s reign is crammed full of hangings,
burnings, and the executions of traitors, with all the barbarity
of that punishment. There are so many, that in order to make this
remarkable shedding of blood intelligible, I have compiled a list of
the executions mentioned by Holinshed and Stow during one part of her
reign. The list will be found in Appendix X., (Executions, 1563–1586).
This list, which principally concerns London and is apparently
incomplete, even within its narrow limits shows that between the years
1563 and 1586, there were in all 64 executions at which 228 persons
suffered. Of these, seventy-one were rebels hanged on two occasions;
seventeen were executed for murder; three for military offences;
twelve for counterfeiting, clipping, or debasing the coinage; two for
counterfeiting the Queen’s signature; twenty-nine were pirates; two
were executed for witchcraft or conjuring; twelve for robbery; one for
adultery; three for heresy, and seventy-six for high treason. Among
the traitors were Dr. John Storey; Edmund Campion; William Parry; the
Babington conspirators; the Charnock conspirators; and many Roman
Catholic priests. There can be no doubt that the priests who came over
with secret designs for the conversion of the country constituted a
real and ever-present danger; if anything could justify the barbarities
committed upon them when they were caught these conspiracies were
enough. That the people at large did not condemn these barbarities
is proved by the fact that there was no feeling of sympathy for the
sufferers; that the common opinion was that for treason no punishment
could be too severe; and that the country after Elizabeth’s reign
was concluded was far more Protestant than at the beginning. The
conspiracies and secret goings in and out of Catholic priests came to
an end in the reign of James, for the best of all reasons, viz. that
there was no one left with whom a priest could conspire or whom he
could convert. Two women were burned for poisoning their husbands—a
most dreadful offence, and one which called for the direst terrors
of the law; one woman was burned for witchcraft; another was only
hanged for the same offence—but such differences in sentences are
not unknown at the present day. One more point occurs. Were the last
dying speeches correctly reported? If so, since they are always so
moving, and sometimes so eloquent, why did they elicit no response of
sympathy or indignation among the bystanders? When Thomas Appletree
was to be hanged for firing a gun accidentally into the Queen’s barge
(see p. 389), the people wept, and the culprit wept, but the justice
of the sentence was not questioned. Now in the Marian Persecution the
people looked on indignant and sympathetic, being restrained from
demonstrations by force and fear. Whether the dying speeches are
correctly reported or invented, matters very little. They show one
thing, that there was no unmanly terror observed at the last moment:
every one, guilty or innocent, mounted the ladder with an intrepid
countenance. Death has no terrors either for the arch-conspirator
Storey, or for the pirate hanged at Execution Dock.

The privileges granted to the foreign merchants of the Steelyard and
the Hanseatic League were finally withdrawn by Queen Elizabeth.

This withdrawal had been in preparation for nearly two hundred years.
In the time of Henry IV. English merchants began to trade in the
Baltic and with Norway and other parts. This aroused the jealousy
of the Hanseatic League, which seized upon several of the English
ships. Complaints were laid before the King, who withdrew such of
the privileges enjoyed by the League as interfered with the carrying
on of trade by his own merchants. He also granted a charter to the
merchants trading to the Eastlands. This charter was renewed and
enlarged by Edward IV. In the first and second of Philip and Mary a
charter was granted to the Russia Company—we have seen how the first
Russian Ambassador came to England in the reign of Mary. This Company
obtained a confirmation of their charter under Queen Elizabeth. Now,
although our people enjoyed many more privileges than of old, yet the
Hanseatic League still had the advantage over them by means of their
well-regulated Societies and their privileges, insomuch that when the
Queen wanted hemp, pitch, tar, powder, and other munitions of war, she
had to buy them of the foreign merchants at their own price. The Queen,
therefore, began to encourage her own people to become merchants: she
assisted them to form companies; she gave them Charters; she withdrew
all the privileges from the Hansa. Not the least of the debt which
England owes to this great Queen is her wisdom in the encouragement of
foreign trade.

The strange and foolish rising of the Earl of Essex belongs to national
history. It was, however, met and repressed in the first outbreak by
the City. Not one person offered to join the Earl; he was proclaimed
traitor in Cheapside; the Bishop of London raised, in all haste, the
force which stopped him on Ludgate Hill.

Towards the end of Queen Elizabeth’s reign there were great complaints
of hawkers and pedlars—in fact we begin to hear of the London Cries.
These street cries did great harm to London tradesmen. We have seen
that there were no shops at all originally, except in the appointed
markets; these hawkers, with their itinerant barrows and baskets,
brought the market into every part of London. Steps were taken to
prevent this nuisance; but they were unavailing.

In 1580 the Queen issued a Proclamation against the building of new
houses and the further increase of London:—

  “To the preservation of her People in Health, which may seem
  impossible to continue, though presently, by God’s Goodness, the
  same is perceived to be in better Estate universally than hath
  beene in Man’s Memorie; yet where there are such great Multitudes
  of People brought to inhabite in small Roomes, whereof a great Part
  are seene very poore, yea, such as must live of begging, or by
  worse Means, and they heaped up together, and in a sort smothered
  with many families of Children and Servants in one House or small
  Tenement; it must needes followe, if any Plague or popular Sicknes
  should, by God’s Permission, enter amongst those Multitudes, that
  the same would not only spread itself and invade the whole Citie
  and Confines, but that a great Mortalitie would ensue the same,
  where her Majesties personal Presence is many times required.

  For Remedie whereof, as Time may now serve, until by some further
  good Order be had in Parliament or otherwise, the same may be
  remedied; her Majestie, by good and deliberate advice of her
  Counsell, and being also thereto moved by the considerate opinions
  of the Lord-Mayor, Aldermen, and other the grave wise men in and
  about the Citie, doth charge and straightly command all manner of
  Persons, of what Qualitie soever they be, to desist and forbeare
  from any new Buildings of any House or Tenement within three miles
  from any of the Gates of the sayde Citie of _London_, to serve
  for Habitation or Lodging for any Person, where no former House
  hath bene knowen to have bene in the Memorie of such as are now
  living; and also to forbeare from letting or setting, or suffering
  any more Families than one onely to be placed, or to inhabite from
  henceforth in any one House that heretofore hath bene inhabited.”

On the 6th of December 1586, a very solemn and tragic ceremony was
performed, first in Cheapside; then in Leadenhall; then at the end of
London Bridge, and lastly at the south end of Chancery Lane; where
the Mayor with the Aldermen, and attended by many of the Nobility and
eighty of the principal citizens in chains of gold, proclaimed the
sentence of death passed upon the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots.

The importance of the act; the publicity given to it; the formalities
attending the Proclamation,—show the desire of the Queen and her
Council that the people should understand the dreadful necessity of
removing this cause of endless intrigue and conspiracy.

One more trade regulation closes the history of London in the reign
of Elizabeth. A practice had grown up among hucksters and others of
setting up stalls in the streets in front of the shops, in consequence
of which the trade of the shopkeepers was greatly injured, insomuch
that many of them were obliged to employ these very people to sell
their wares for them. It was therefore ordered that no one should
erect any stall, or stand, before any house under a penalty of twenty
shillings.

One of the last things done in the name of the Queen was the offer to
all Debtors in prison of freedom if they would volunteer to serve on
board the fleet newly raised for the suppression of Spanish pirates.

On the death of the Queen, the City, which was always most truly loyal
and faithful to her, put up in most churches a tablet or a statue to
her memory.

This brief and bald account of the relations between the Crown and the
City is not proffered as a history of London during the Tudor period.
This history will, it is hoped, be found in the following pages. I
have only hinted at the creation of the Trading Companies and the
connection of the great Sea Captains with London. The Poor Law of 1572;
the granting of monopolies; the wonderful outburst of Literature;
the troubles caused by the substitution of pasture for agriculture;
the growth of Puritanism and the beginnings of the High Church,—all
these things belong to the history of London. The diplomacy; the Court
intrigues; the rise and fall of Ministers; the anxieties concerning the
Succession,—these things do not belong to the history of London.




                              CHAPTER VI

                        THE QUEEN IN SPLENDOUR


The Court of Queen Elizabeth was almost as itinerant as that of Henry
the Second. The Queen understood thoroughly that for a sovereign to be
at once loyally served and wholesomely feared it is not enough to sit
still in one place. She must be seen by her people: they must realise
by ocular demonstration how great is her power and authority; they must
learn it by the sight of her person glittering with jewels and all
glorious with silk and velvet; by the splendour of her train; by the
noble lords who attend her; by the magnificence of the entertainment
she receives. Nearly every year of her long reign was marked by one or
more Progresses; some of her nobles she visited more than once: she was
the guest of Cecil at Theobalds on twelve different occasions, each
visit costing the host two or three thousand pounds; three times she
visited Leicester at Kenilworth. These Progresses, though they belong
not to the history of London, must be borne in mind in thinking of this
long and glorious reign.

[Illustration: HAMPTON COURT

From a print in the British Museum.]

When Elizabeth was not travelling she resided at Whitehall, at St.
James’s, at Greenwich, at Hampton Court, Windsor, Richmond, Nonsuch,
Chelsea, Hunsdon. In moving from one palace to another a huge quantity
of plate and furniture had to be carried about. And during the change
of residence the City bells were set ringing. If the Queen went by
river, or from Westminster to Greenwich, she was attended by the barges
of the Mayor and the Companies, all newly painted and beautified: they
had artillery on board, and there was a great shooting of guns; also
there was “great and pleasant melodie of instruments which plaed in
most sweet and heavenly manner.”

On the day before her coronation the Queen received the Pageant devised
in her honour by the City of London.

A full account of this Pageant is preserved in a tract first printed
in 1604, and reproduced in Nichols’s _Progresses of Queen Elisabeth_.
It is too long to quote in full. The following, therefore, is greatly
abridged from the original:—

  “Entryng the Citie was of the People received marveylous entirely,
  as appeared by the assemblie, prayers, wishes, welcomminges, cryes,
  tender woordes, and all other signs, which argue a wonderfull
  earnest love of most obedient subjectes towarde theyr soveraigne.
  And on thother side, her Grace, by holding up her hand and merie
  countenance to such as stode farre of, and most tender and gentle
  language to those that stode nigh to her Grace, did declare
  herselfe no leswe thankefully to receive her Peoples good wyll
  than they lovingly offered it unto her. To all that wyshed her
  Grace well, she gave heartie thankes, and to such as bade God
  save her Grace, she sayde agayne God save them all, and thanked
  them with all her heart: so that on eyther syde there was nothing
  but gladnes, nothing but prayer, nothing but comfort. The Quenes
  Majestie rejoysed marveilously to see that so exceadingly shewed
  towarde her Grace, which all good Princes have ever desyred. I
  meane so earnest love of subjectes, so evidently declared even to
  her Grace’s owne person, being carried in the middest of them.”...
  “Thus therefore the Quenes Majestie passed from the Towre till she
  came to Fanchurche, the people on eche side joyously beholdyng the
  viewe of so gracious a Ladye theyr Quene, and her Grace no lesse
  gladly notyng and observing the same. Nere unto Fanchurch was
  erected a scaffolde richely furnished, whereon stode a noyes of
  instrumentes and a chylde in costly apparell, which was appoynted
  to welcome the Quenes Majestie in the hole Cities behalfe. Against
  which place when her Grace came, of her owne wyll she commaunded
  the chariot to be stayde, and that the noyes might be appeased
  tyll the chylde had uttered his welcome oration, which he spake in
  English meter as here followeth:—

    ‘O pereles Soveraygne Quene, behold what this thy Town
    Hath thee presented with at thy fyrst entraunce here:
    Behold with how riche hope she ledeth thee to thy Crown,
    Beholde with what two gyftes she comforteth thy chere.

    The first is blessing tonges which many a welcome say,
    Which pray thou mayst do wel, which praise thee to the sky,
    Which wish to thee long lyfe, which blesse this happy day
    Which to thy kingdomes heapes, all that in tonges can lye.

    The second is true hertes which love thee from their roote,
    Whose sute is tryumphe now, and ruleth all the game.
    Which faithfulness have wone, and all untruthe driven out,
    Which skip for joy when as they heare thy happy name.

    Welcome therefore, O Quene, as much as herte can thinke;
    Welcome agayn, O Quene, as much as tong can tell;
    Welcome to joyous tonges, and hartes that will not shrink.
    God thee preserve we praye and wishe thee ever well.’

  At which wordes of the last line the hole People gave a great
  shout, wishing with one assent, as the chylde had said. And the
  Quenes Majestie thanked most heartely both the Citie for this her
  gentle receiving at the first, and also the People for confirming
  the same.”

In Gracious (Gracechurch Street) was erected a “gorgeous and sumptuous
Arke”:—

  “A stage was made whiche extended from th’one syde of the streate
  to th’other, richely vawted with battlementes conteining three
  portes, and over the middlemost was avaunced three severall stages
  in degrees. Upon the lowest stage was made one seate Royall,
  wherein were placed two personages representyng Kyng Henrie the
  Seventh, and Elyzabeth his wyfe, doughter of Kyng Edward the
  Fourth, eyther of these two Princes sitting under one cloth of
  estate in their seates, no otherwyse divided, but that th’one of
  them, whiche was King Henrie the Seventh, proceeding out of the
  House of Lancastre, was enclosed in a Redde Rose, and th’other,
  which was Quene Elizabeth, being heire to the House of Yorke,
  enclosed with a Whyte Rose, eche of them Royally crowned, and
  decently apparailled as apperteinted to Princes, with Sceptours
  in their hands, and one vawt surmounting their heades, wherein
  aptly were placed two tables, eche conteining the title of those
  two Princes. And these personages were so set, that the one of
  them joined handes with th’other, with the ring of matrimonie
  perceived on the finger. Out of the which two Roses sprang two
  branches gathered into one, which were directed upward to the
  second stage or degree, wherein was placed one, representing the
  valiant and noble Prynce, King Henry the Eight, which sprong out of
  the former stock, crowned with a Crown Imperial, and by him sate
  one representing the right worthy Ladie Quene Ann, wife to the said
  King Henry the Eight, and Mother to our most soveraign Ladie Quene
  Elizabeth that now is, both apparelled with Sceptours and Diademes,
  and other furniture due to the state of a King and Queene, and two
  tables surmounting their heades, wherein were written their names
  and titles. From their seate also proceaded upwardes one braunche
  directed to the thirde and uppermost stage or degree, wherein
  lykewyse was planted a seate Royall, in the whiche was sette one
  representyng the Queenes most excellent Majestie Elizabeth nowe our
  moste dradde Soveraigne Ladie, crowned and apparalled as th’other
  Prynces were. Out of the forepart of this Pageaunt was made a
  standyng for a chylde, whiche at the Quenes Majesties comeing
  declared unto her the hole meaning of the said Pageaunt. The two
  sides of the same were filled with loud noyses of musicke. And all
  emptie places thereof were furnished with sentences concerning
  unitie. And the hole Pageant garnished with Redde Roses and White,
  and in the forefront of the same Pageant in a faire Wreathe, was
  written the name and title of the same, which was, ‘The uniting of
  the two Howses of Lancastre and Yorke.’ Thys Pageant was grounded
  upon the Quenes Majesties name. For like as the long warre between
  the two Houses of Yorke and Lancastre then ended, when Elizabeth
  doughter to Edward the Fourth matched in marriage with Henry the
  Seventhe, heyre to the Howse of Lancastre: so since that the Quenes
  Majesties name was Elizabeth, and forsomuch as she is the onelye
  heire of Henrye the Eighth, which came of bowthe the howses, as the
  knitting up of concorde, it was devised, that like as Elizabeth was
  the first occasion of concorde, so she, another Elizabeth, myght
  maintaine the same among her subjectes, so that unitie was the ende
  whereat the whole devise shotte as the Ouenes Majesties name moved
  the first grounde.

  The childe appoynted in the standing above named to open the
  meaning of the said Pageant, spake these wordes unto her Grace:—

    ‘The two Princes that sit under one cloth of state,
      The Man in the Redde Rose, the Whoman in the White,
    Henry the VII. and Quene Elizabeth his Mate,
      By ring of marriage as Man and Wife unite.

    Both heires to both their bloodes, to Lancastre the Kyng,
      The Queene to Yorke, in one the two Howses did knit:
    Of whom as heire to both, Henry the Eighth did spring,
      In whose seat, his true heire, thou, Quene Elizabeth doth sit.

    Therefore as civill warre, and fuede of blood did cease
      When these two Houses were united into one,
    So now that jarrs shall stint, and quietnes encrease,
      We trust, O noble Quene, thou wilt be cause alone.’

The which also were written in Latin verse, and both drawn in two
tables upon the forefront of the saide Pageant.

[Illustration: NONSUCH HOUSE

From an old print.]

These verses and other pretie sentences were drawen in voide places
of thys Pageant, all tending to one ende, that quietness might be
mainteyned, and all dissention displaced, and that by the Quenes
Majestie, heire to agrement and agreing in name with her, which tofore
had joyned those Houses, which had been th’occasion of much debate and
civill warre within thys Realme, as may appeare to such as will searche
Cronicles, but be not to be touched in thys treatise, openly declaring
her Graces passage through the Citie, and what provisyon the Citie
made therfore. And ere the Quenes Majestie came wythin hearing of
thys Pageaunt, she sent certaine, as also at all other Pageauntes, to
require the People to be silent. For her Majestie was disposed to heare
all that shoulde be sayde unto her. When the Quenes Majestie had hearde
the chylde’s oration, and understoode the meanyng of the Pageant at
large, she marched forward toward Cornehill, alway received with lyke
rejoysing of the People: and there, as her Grace passed by the Conduit,
which was curiously trimmed agaynst that tyme with riche banners
adourned, and a noyse of loude instrumentes upon the top thereof, she
espyed the seconde Pageant: and because she feared for the People’s
noyse that she shoulde not heare the child which dyd expound the same,
she enquired what that Pageant was ere that she came to it: and there
understoode that there was a chylde representing her Majesties person,
placed in a seate of Government, supported by certayn vertues, which
suppressed their contrarie vyces under their feete, and so forthe.”...
“Against Soper Lane ende was extended from th’one side of the streate
to th’other a Pageant, which had three gates, all open. Over the
middlemost whereof wer erected three severall stages, whereon sate
eight children, as hereafter followeth: On the uppermost one childe,
on the middle three, on the lowest foure, eche having the proper name
of the blessing that they did represent written in a table, and placed
above their heades. In the forefront of this Pageant, before the
children which did represent the blessings, was a convenient standing,
cast out for a chylde to stand, which did expownd the sayd Pageant
unto the Quenes Majestie as was done in th’other tofore. Everie of
these children wer appointed and apparelled according unto the blessing
which he did represent. And on the forepart of the sayde Pageant was
written, in fayre letters, the name of the said Pageant, in this maner
following:—

    ‘The eight Beatitudes expressed in the V chapter of the Gospel of
         St. Matthew
                  applyed to our Soveraigne Lady Quene Elizabeth.’

Over the two syde portes was placed a noyse of instrumentes. And
all voyde places in the Pageant were furnished with prety sayinges,
commending and touching the meaning of the said Pageant, which was
the promises and blessinges of Almightie God to his People.”... “At
the Standard in Cheape, which was dressed fayre agaynste the tyme,
was placed a noyse of trumpettes, with banners and other furniture.
The Crosse lykewyse was also made fayre and well trimmed. And neare
unto the same, uppon the porche of Saint Peter’s church dore, stode
the waites of the Citie, which did geve a pleasant noyse with their
instrumentes as the Quenes Majestie did passe by, whiche on every saide
cast her countenance and wished well to all her most loving people.
Sone after that her Grace passed the Crosse, she had espyed the Pageant
erected at the Little Conduit in Cheape, and incontinent required to
know what it might signifye. And it was tolde her Grace, that there was
placed Tyme. ‘Tyme?’ quoth she, ‘and Tyme hath brought me hether.’ And
so forth the hole matter was opened to her Grace: as hereafter shalbe
declared in the description of the Pageant. But in the opening when her
Grace understode that the Byble in Englyse shoulde be delivered unto
her by Trueth which was therin represented by a chylde: she thanked the
Citie for that gyft, and sayde that she would oftentymes reade over
that booke, commaunding Sir John Parrat, one of the Knightes which
helde up her canapy, to goe before, and to receive the booke. But
learning that it shoulde be delivered unto her Grace downe by a silken
lace, she caused him to staye, and so passed forward till she came
agaynste the Aldermen in the hyghe ende of Cheape tofore the Little
Conduite, where the companies of the Citie ended, whiche beganne at
Fanchurche and stoode along the streates, one by another enclosed with
rayles, hanged with clothes, and themselves well apparelled with many
riche furres, and their livery whodes uppon their shoulders, in comely
and semely maner, having before them sondry persones well apparelled
in silkes and chaines of golde, as wyflers and garders of the sayd
companies, beside a number of riche hangings, as well of tapistrie,
arras, clothes of golde, silver, velvet, damaske, sattin, and other
silkes, plentifullye hanged all the way as the Quenes Highnes passed
from the Towre through the Citie. Out at the windowes and penthouses
of every house did hang a number of ryche and costlye banners and
streamers, tyll her Grace came to the upper ende of Cheape. And there,
by appoyntment, the Right Worshipfull Maister Ranulph Cholmeley,
Recorder of the Citie, presented to the Quenes Majestie a purse of
crimeson sattin richely wrought with gold, wherin the Citie gave unto
the Quenes Majestie a thousand markes in gold, as maister Recorder did
declare brieflie unto the Quenes Majestie: whose woordes tended to this
ende, that the Lorde Maior, his brethren, and Comminaltie of the Citie,
to declare their gladnes and good wille towardes the Quenes Majestie
dyd present her Grace with that golde, desyering her Grace to continue
theyr good and gracious Queen, and not to esteeme the value of the
gift, but the mynd of the gevers. The Quenes Majestie, with both her
handes, tooke the purse, and answered to hym againe mervelous pithilie:
and so pithilie, that the standers by, as they embraced entirely her
gracious answer, so they mervailed at the cowching thereof: which was
in wordes truely reported these: ‘I thanke my Lorde Maior, his Brethren
and you all. And wheras your request is that I shoulde continue your
good Ladie and Quene, be ye ensured, that I will be as good unto you
as ever Quene was to her People. No wille in me can lacke, neither doe
I trust shall ther lacke any power. And perswade your selves, that
for the safetie and quietnes of you all I will not spare, if need be,
to spend my blood. God thanke you all.’ Which answere of so noble an
hearted Pryncesse, if it moved a mervaylous showte and rejoysing, it
is nothyng to be mervayled at, since both the heartines thereof was
so wonderfull and the woordes so joyntly knytte. When her Grace hadde
thus answered the Recorder, she marched toward the Little Conduit,
where was erected a Pageant with square proporcion standynge directly
before the same Conduite, with battlementes accordyngelye. And in the
same Pageant was advaunced two hylles or mountaynes of convenient
heyghte. The one of them beyng on the North syde of the same Pageaunt,
was made cragged, barreyn, and stonye: in the whiche was erected
one tree, artificiallye made, all withered and deade, with braunches
accordinglye. And under the same tree, at the foote thereof, sate one
in homely and rude apparell, crokedlye, and in mourning maner, havynge
over hys headde, in a table, written in Laten and Englyshe, hys name,
whiche was, ‘Ruinosa Respublica,’ ‘A Decayed Commonweale.’ And upon the
same withered tree were fixed certayne tables, wherein were written
proper sentences, expressing the causes of the decaye of a Commonweale.
The other hylle, on the South syde, was made fayre, fresh grene, and
beawtifull, the grounde thereof full of flowers and beawtie: and on the
same was erected also one tree very fresh and fayre, under the whiche
stoode uprighte one freshe personage, well apparayled and appoynted,
whose name also was written bothe in Englyshe and Latin, whiche was,
‘Respublica bene instituta,’ ‘A florishyng Commonweale.’ And uppon the
same tree also were fixed certayne tables, conteyning sentences which
expressed the causes of a flourishing Commonweale. In the middle,
between the sayde hylles, was made artificially one hollow place or
cave, with doore and locke enclosed: oute of the whiche, a lyttle
before the Quenes Highness commynge thither, issued one personage,
whose name was Tyme, apparaylled as an olde man, with a sythe in his
hande, havynge wynges artificiallye made, leadinge a personage of
lesser stature than himselfe, whiche was fynely and well apparaylled,
all cladde in whyte silke, and directlye over her head was set her name
and tytle, in Latin and Englyshe, ‘Temporis filia,’ ‘The Daughter of
Tyme.’ Which two so appoynted, went forwarde toward the South syde of
the Pageant. And on her brest was written her propre name, whiche was
‘Veritas,’ ‘Trueth,’ who helde a booke in her hande, upon the whiche
was written, ‘Verbum Veritatis,’ ‘The Woorde of Trueth.’ And out of the
South syde of the Pageaunt was cast a standynge for a childe, which
shoulde enterprete the same Pageant. Against whom when the Quenes
Majestie came, he spake unto her Grace these woordes:—

    ‘This olde man with the sythe olde Father Tyme they call,
      And her his daughter Truth, which holdeth yonder boke:
    Whom he out of his rocke hath brought forth to us all,
      From hence for many yeres she durst not once out loke.

    The ruthful wight that sitteth ynder the barren tree,
      Resembleth to us the fourme when Commonweales decay:
    But when they be in state tryumphant, you may see
      By him in freshe attyre that sitteth under the baye.

    Now since that Time again his daughter Truth hath brought
      We trust, O worthy Quene, thou wilt this Truth embrace:
    And since thou understandst the good estate and nought,
      We trust wealth thou wilt plant, and barrenness displace.

    But for to heale the sore, and cure that is not seene,
      Which thing the boke of Truth doth teache in writing playn,
    She doth present to thee the same, O worthy Quene,
      For that, that wordes do flye, but wryting doth remayn.’

[Illustration: COACHES OF QUEEN ELIZABETH

From _Archæologia_.]

When the childe had thus ended his speache, he reached his booke
towardes the Quenes Majestie, whiche, a little before, Trueth had let
downe unto him from the hill: whiche Sir John Parrat was received,
and delivered unto the Quene. But she, as soone as she had receyved
the booke, kissed it, and with both her handes helde up the same, and
so laid it upon her breast, with great thankes to the Citie thereof.
And so went forward towardes Paules Churchyarde.... When she was come
over against Paules Scole, a childe appointed by the scolemaster
thereof pronounced a certein oration in Latin, and certein verses,
which also wer there written.”... “In this maner, the people on either
side rejoysing, her Grace went forwarde, towarde the Conduite in
Flete-street, where was the fifte and last Pageaunt erected, in forme
following: From the Conduite, which was bewtified with painting, unto
the North side of the strete, was erected a stage, embattelled with
foure towres, and in the same a square platte rising with degrees, and
uppon the uppermost degree was placed a chaire, or seate royall, and
behynde the same seate, in curious and artificiall maner, was erected
a tree of reasonable height, and so farre advaunced above the seate as
it did well and semelye shadow the same, without endomaging the syght
of any part of the Pageant: and the same tree was bewtified with leaves
as greene as arte could devise, being of a convenient greatnes, and
conteining therupon the fruite of the date, and on the toppe of the
same tree, in a table, was set the name thereof, which was ‘A palme
tree’: and in the aforesaide seate, or chaire, was placed a semelie
and mete personage, richlie apparelled in Parliament robes, with a
sceptre in her hand, as a Quene crowned with an open crowne, whose name
and title was in a table fixed over her head, in this sort: ‘Debora
the judge and restorer of the House of Israel, Judic. iv.’ And the
other degrees, on either side, were furnished with vi personages: two
representing the Nobilitie, two the Clergie, and two the Comminaltye.
And before these personages was written, in a table, ‘Debora with her
estates, consulting for the good Government of Israel.’ At the feete of
these, and the lowest part of the Pageant, was ordeined a convenient
rome for a childe to open the meaning of the Pageant. When the Quenes
Majestie drew nere unto this Pageant, and perceived, as in the other,
the childe readie to speake, her Grace required silence, and commaunded
her chariot to be removed nigher, that she myght plainlie heare the
childe speake, whych said as hereafter foloweth:—

    ‘Jaben of Canaan King had long by force of armes
    Opprest the Israleites which for God’s People went:
    But God minding at last for to redresse their harmes,
    The worthy Deborah as judge among them sent.

    In war she, through God’s aide, did put her foes to fright,
    And with the dint of sworde the hande of bondage brast;
    In peace she, through God’s aide, did alway mainteine right,
    And judges Israell till fourty yeres were past.

    A worthie President, O worthie Queen, thou hast,
    A worthie woman judge, a woman sent for staie.
    And that the like to us endure alway thou maist,
    Thy loving subjectes will with true hearts and tonges prai.’

Which verses were written upon the Pageant: and the same in Latin also.
The voide places of the Pageant were filled with pretie sentences
concerning the same matter. Thys ground of this last Pageant was,
that forsomuch as the next Pageant before had set before her Grace’s
eyes the florishing and desolate states of a Commonweale, she might
by this be put in remembrance to consult for the worthy Government of
her People: considering God oftimes sent women nobly to rule among
men: as Debora, whych governed Israell in peas the space of xl years:
and that it behoved both men and women so ruling to use advise of good
counsell. When the Quenes Majestie had passed this Pageant, she marched
toward Templebarre: but at St Dunstones church, where the children of
thospitall wer appointed to stand with their governours, her Grace
perceiving a childe offred to make an oration unto her, stayed her
chariot and did cast up her eyes to heaven, as who should saye: ‘I here
see thys mercyfull worke towarde the poore, whom I muste in the middest
of my royaltie nedes remembre!’ And so turned her face towarde the
childe, which, in Latin, pronounced an oracion. The childe, after he
had ended his oracion, kissed the paper wherein the same was written,
and reached it to the Quenes Majestie, whych received it graciouslye
both with woordes and countenance, declaring her gracious mynde
towarde theyr reliefe. From thence her Grace came to Temple Barre,
which was dressed fynelye with the two ymages of Gotmagot the Albione,
and Corineus the Briton, two gyantes bigge in stature, furnished
accordingly: which held in their handes, even above the gate, a table,
wherin was writen, in Latin verses, the effect of all the Pageantes
which the Citie before had erected. Which versis wer also written in
Englishe meter, in a lesse table, as hereafter foloweth:—

    ‘Behold here in one view thou mayst see all that payne,
    O Princesse, to this thy people the onely stay:
    What echewhere thou hast seen in this wide town again
    This one arche whatsoever the rest conteynd doth say.

    The first arche, as true heyre unto thy father dere,
    Did set thee in the throne where thy graundfather satte:
    The second did confirme thy seate as Princesse here.
    Vertues now bearing swaye, and Vyces bet down flatte.

    The third, if that thou wouldst goe on as thou began,
    Declared thee to be blessed on every syde;
    The fourth did open Trueth and also taught thee whan
    The Commonweale stoode well, and when it did thence slide.

    The fifth as Debora, declared thee to be sent,
    From Heaven, a long comfort to us thy subjectes all:
    Therefore goe on, O Quene, on whom our hope is bent,
    And take with thee this wishe of thy town as finall:

    Live long, and as long raygne, adourning thy countrie
    With Vertues, and mayntayne thy people’s hope of thee:
    For thus, thus Heaven is won: thus must you pearce the sky.
    This is by Vertue wrought, all other must nedes dye.’

[Illustration: ROYAL PROCESSION TO ST. PAUL’S

From a picture painted in 1616, in the possession of the Society of
Antiquaries. E. Gardner’s Collection.]

[Illustration:

_W. A. Mansell & Co._

QUEEN ELIZABETH GOING IN PROCESSION FROM SOMERSET HOUSE TO ST. PAUL’S
CHURCH, TO RETURN THANKS FOR THE DEFEAT OF THE SPANISH ARMADA, NOVEMBER
24, 1588

From an engraving in British Museum.]

On the South side was appoynted by the Citie a noyse of singing
children: and one childe richely attyred as a poet, which gave the
Quenes Majestie her farewell, in the name of the hole Citie, by these
wordes:—

    ‘As at thyne entraunce first, O Prince of high renown,
    Thou wast presented with tonges and heartes for thy fayre;
    So now, sith thou must nedes depart out of this towne,
    This citie sendeth thee firme hope and earnest prayer.

    For all men hope in thee, that all vertues shall reygne,
    For all men hope that thou none errour wilt support,
    For all men hope that thou wilt trueth restore agayne,
    And mend that is amisse, to all good mennes comfort.

    And for this hope they pray thou mayst continue long
    Our Quene amongst us here, all vyce for to supplant:
    And for this hope they pray, that God may make thee strong
    As by His grace puissant so in his trueth constant.

    Farewell, O worthy Quene, and as our hope is sure
    That into Errour’s place thou wilt now Truth restore:
    So trust we that thou wilt our Soveraigne Quene endure,
    And loving Lady stand, from henceforth evermore.’

Whyle these woordes were in saying, and certeine wishes therein repeted
for maintenaunce of Trueth and rooting out of Errour, she now and
then helde up her handes to heavenwarde, and willed the people to say
Amen. When the child had ended she said, ‘Be ye well assured I will
stande your good Quene.’ At whiche saying her Grace departed forth
through Temple Barre towarde Westminster with no lesse shoutyng and
crying of the People, then she entred the Citie, with a noyse of
ordinance, whiche the Towre shot of at her Grace’s entraunce first into
Towre-streate. The childes saying was also in Latin verses, wrytten in
a table which was hanged up there. Thus the Quenes Hyghnesse passed
through the Citie, whiche, without any forreyne persone, of itselfe
beawtifyed itselfe, and receyved her Grace at all places, as hath
been before mentioned, with most tender obedience and love, due to
so gracious a Quene and Soveraigne Ladie. And her Grace lykewise of
her side, in all her Grace’s passage, shewed herselfe generally an
ymage of a woorthye Ladie and Governour: but privately these especiall
poyntes wer noted in her Grace as synges of a most princelyke courage,
wherby her loving subjectes maye ground a sure hope for the rest of her
gracious doinges hereafter.”

The most beautiful thing about the accession and coronation of
Elizabeth was the moment when she passed out of the gates of the Tower,
where once before she had lain in daily expectation of death. Her
carriage waited for her. She stood looking round her; in the clear,
cold, winter light she saw the City rising before her with its spires
and gables—her City—filled with hearts that longed above all things for
the restoration of the new Faith. And she raised her eyes to heaven and
cried:—

  “O Lord, Almighty and Everlasting God, I give Thee most humble
  thanks, that Thou hast been so merciful unto me as to spare me to
  behold this joyful day; and I acknowledge that Thou hast dealt
  wonderfully and mercifully with me. As Thou didst with thy servant
  Daniel the prophet, whom Thou deliveredst out of the den from the
  cruelty of the raging lions, even so was I overwhelmed, and only
  by Thee delivered. To Thee, therefore, only be thanks, honour, and
  praise for ever. Amen.”

The Service in the Abbey was the Coronation Mass; but the Litany was
read in English, and the Gospel and Epistle both in Latin and in
English. All the Bench of Bishops were absent except one; and the Abbot
of Westminster took his part in the Service for the last time. Yet a
few weeks and all England knew that the Reformation had come back to
them. For this gift the people never ceased to love and venerate Queen
Elizabeth. There has been no English sovereign save Queen Victoria who
was so wholly and unfeignedly loved by the English people as she. This
is a commonplace, but it is well, in such a work as this, to remind
ourselves how the citizens of London, one and all, and throughout her
long reign, were ready to fight and to die for their beloved Queen.
She was sometimes hard; she was always inflexible; she was sometimes
vindictive; but above all things people delight in a strong king. Henry
the First; Henry the Second; Edward the First; Henry the Fifth; Henry
the Eighth; Elizabeth; William the Third,—have been the best loved of
all the English sovereigns, because of their strength and courage. In
the woman’s heart of the Maiden Queen lay all the courage and all the
strength of her masterful father.

The new opinions made rapid and, for the most part, unchecked advance.
It was observed how, at the burial of a certain gentlewoman in St.
Thomas Acons, no priests or singing clerks were present, but in their
stead the new preachers in their gowns, who neither spoke nor sang
until they came to the church, and when the body was lowered into the
grave, a Collect was read in English, instead of Latin, and a chapter
of St. Paul was read—probably the same chapter which is now read at
funerals. The spirit of the time was also marked by a Proclamation
forbidding the players of whatever Company to play any more for a
certain time.

[Illustration: THE TOWER

From Visscher’s _Panorama of London_.]

It has been observed that there were few noblemen left in the City:
we observe, however, that Lord Wentworth when he was acquitted for
the loss of Calais, went to live at Whittington College. At the
funeral service held for the death of King Henry II. of France the
sermon, preached by the Bishop-elect of Hereford, turned upon Funeral
Ceremonies, pointing out the simplicity of the Primitive Church—a
sermon pointing to change; after the sermon the Communion was
administered both of wine and of bread.

In August, on St. Bartholomew’s Day, there was a great burning of
roods, copes, crosses, altar cloths, rood cloths, books, banners, and
other church gear, in London. In May, six months after the Queen’s
accession, the English service was ordered to be held in all the
churches. And the Mayor and Aldermen who had been accustomed to go in
procession to St. Paul’s, there to pray at the tomb of Bishop William,
with other ceremonies, changed this practice into hearing a sermon.
Early in 1560 we find the people all together singing a Psalm in metre,
the custom having been brought from abroad by the Protestant refugees.
By this time the Protestant form of worship seems to have been firmly
established, though it wanted the Spanish Armada and the risings and
conspiracies in favour of the old Faith to make it impossible that the
great mass of the people should desire a return.

[Illustration: WESTMINSTER

From an engraving by Hollar.]

Meantime not only by her Progresses, but by her evenings on the river,
her presence at jousts and tilts, her personal reviewing of troops and
trained-bands, Queen Elizabeth kept herself continually in evidence.
(_See_ Appendix IV.) The people crowded after her, especially on the
river, where in her honour they fired off guns and blew trumpets, beat
drums, played lutes, and threw squibs into the air. The Queen even
took part in the rough national sports, sitting for whole afternoons
with the Foreign Ambassadors, looking on at the baiting of bears and
bulls, and hawking was a favourite amusement of hers. A description of
Whitehall Palace and its treasures is given by the German traveller
Hentzner.

  “In Whitehall are the following things worthy of observation:—

  I. The Royal Library, well stored with Greek, Latin, Italian,
  and French books: amongst the rest, a little one in French, upon
  parchment, in the handwriting of the present reigning Queen
  Elizabeth, thus inscribed: ‘To the most High, Puissant, and
  Redoubted Prince, Henry VIII. of the Name, King of England, France,
  and Ireland, Defender of the Faith: Elizabeth his most humble
  daughter, Health & Obedience.’ All these books are bound in velvet
  of different colours, though chiefly red, with clasps of gold and
  silver: some of pearls and precious stones set in their bindings.

  II. Two little silver cabinets of exquisite work, in which the
  Queen keeps her paper, and which she uses for writing-boxes.

  III. The Queen’s bed, ingeniously composed of woods of different
  colours, with quilts of silk, velvet, gold, silver, and embroidery.

  IV. A little chest, ornamented all over with pearls, in which
  the Queen keeps her bracelets, ear-rings, and other things of
  extraordinary value.

  V. Christ’s Passion in painted glass.

  VI. Portraits: among which are Queen Elizabeth at sixteen years
  old; Henry, Richard, Edward, Kings of England; Rosamond; Lucrece;
  a Grecian Bride, in her nuptial habit; the Genealogy of the Kings
  of England; a picture of King Edward VI. representing at first
  sight something quite deformed, till, by looking through a small
  hole in the cover, which is put over it, you see it in its true
  proportions; Charles V., Emperor; Charles Emanuel Duke of Savoy,
  and Catherine of Spain his wife; Ferdinand Duke of Florence, with
  his Daughters; one of Philip King of Spain when he came into
  England and married Mary; Henry VII., Henry VIII. and his Mother;
  besides many more of illustrious men and women, and a picture of
  the Siege of Malta.

  VII. A small hermitage, half hid in rock, finely carved in wood.

  VIII. Variety of emblems, on paper, cut in the shape of shields,
  with mottoes, used by the nobility at tilts and tournaments, hung
  up here for a memorial.

  IX. Different instruments of music, upon one of which two persons
  may perform at the same time.

  X. A piece of clock-work, an Aethiop riding upon a rhinoceros, with
  four attendants, who all make their obeisance when it strikes the
  hour: these are all put into motion, by winding up the machine. At
  the entrance into the park from Whitehall is this inscription:—

    The Fisherman who has been wounded learns though late to beware
              But the unfortunate Actaeon always presses on.
                    The chaste Virgin naturally pitied:
              But the powerful Goddess revenged the wrong.
                    Let Actaeon fall a prey to his dogs
                          An example to Youth
                  A disgrace to those that belong to him.
                    May Diana live the care of Heaven
                        The delight of mortals
                  The security of those that belong to her.

  In a garden joining to this Palace, there is a Jet d’eau with a
  sun-dial, which, while strangers are looking at, a quantity of
  water, forced by a wheel, which the gardiner turns at a distance,
  through a number of little pipes, plentifully sprinkles those that
  are standing round.”

The entertainment of a noble visitor was hospitable and generous. This
is shown in the case of John Casimir, Count Palatine of the Rhine and
Duke of Bavaria. He arrived about seven of the clock on the evening of
22nd January 1579. He landed at the Tower, and was there received by
divers noblemen and others, who conveyed him by cresset and torchlight
to the house of Sir Thomas Gresham in Bishopsgate Street, where he
was received with the sounding of trumpets, drums, fifes, and other
instruments, and a great concourse of people; here he rested for
some days. He was then taken by some of the nobility to the Queen at
Westminster, and lodged at Somerset House. The week after he hunted
at Hampton Court. On Sunday the first of February he was entertained
with a great tilting at Westminster; on Monday with a sword-fight at
barriers. On Tuesday he dined with the Mayor; on Wednesday with the
Duchess of Suffolk at the Barbican; on Thursday at the Steelyard. On
February the 8th he was made a Knight of the Garter. And when he went
away he took with him presents worth 3000 crowns.

The tiltings at Westminster attracted an immense number of spectators:
in the year 1581 so great was the concourse and so crowded were the
scaffolds that they broke down, and many persons were injured or killed.

April the 4th, 1581, was a day to be remembered. On that day the Queen
came from Greenwich by water to Deptford, where there was moored a
certain ship newly returned from a voyage round the world, the first
made by an Englishman. The ship was called _The Golden Hind_, the
Captain, Francis Drake. The Queen examined the ship, questioned the
Captain, looked at the charts, and saw the things collected and brought
home. Then she graciously dined on board, and after dinner conferred
the honour of knighthood upon the Captain. An immense number of persons
were gathered to see the Queen, and to gaze upon the ship which had
been all round the world. A wooden bridge on which one hundred persons
were standing broke, but happily none were killed. The ship was laid
up in Deptford Dockyard, till she was cut to pieces by visitors taking
each a piece of her timbers away. When she was at length broken up, a
chair was made out of the wood, and given by a Mr. John Davis to the
University of Oxford.

The observance of the Maundy was held in great state:—

First, the Hall was prepared with a long table on each side, and forms
set by them; on the edges of which tables and under those forms were
laid carpets and cushions for her Majesty to kneel, when she washed
the poor. There was also another table laid across the upper end of
the Hall, where the Chaplain stood. A little beneath the middle of the
Hall a stool and “cushion of estate” were placed for her Majesty to
kneel at during service time. This done, the holy-water basons, alms,
and other things, being brought into the Hall, and the Chaplain and the
poor women, the recipients of the Queen’s bounty, having taken their
places, the Yeoman of the Laundry, armed with a fair towel, and taking
a silver bason filled with warm water and flowers, washed their feet,
all, one after another, wiped the same with his towel, and so, making
a cross a little above the toes, kissed them. After them followed the
Sub-Almoner, doing likewise, and after him the Almoner himself also;
so that the feet of the poor folk were three times washed before the
Queen appeared. When she came into the Hall, they sang certain psalms
and read certain prayers, together with the Gospel of Christ’s washing
His disciples’ feet; then thirty-nine gentlewomen [in accordance
with the Queen’s age—this account refers to the year 1572] presented
themselves with aprons and towels to wait upon her Majesty; and she,
kneeling down upon the cushions and carpets under the feet of the poor
women, first washed one foot of every one of them in so many several
basons of warm water, and sweet flowers, brought to her severally by
the said ladies and gentlewomen, then wiped, crossed, and kissed them,
as the Almoner and others had done before. When her Majesty had thus
gone through the whole number of thirty-nine (of which twenty sat on
the one side of the Hall and nineteen on the other) she began again
with the first, and gave to each one certain yards of broad cloth.
This done, she again began with the first, giving to each in turn a
pair of shoes. Fourthly, to each of them she gave a wooden platter,
wherein were laid a side of salmon, with an equal weight of ling, six
red herring, and two loaves of bread. Fifthly, she began with the
first again, and gave to each of them a white wooden bason filled with
wine. Sixthly, she received of each Waiting Gentlewoman her towel and
apron, and gave one towel and apron to each poor woman. After this the
Treasurer of the Chamber came to her Majesty with thirty-nine small
white purses wherein were also thirty-nine pence according to the
number of the years of her Majesty’s age; and of him she received and
distributed them severally; which done, she received of him the same
number of red leather purses, each containing twenty shillings, for the
redemption of her Majesty’s gown, which, by ancient custom, should have
been given to some one of them at her pleasure; the Queen, however,
had changed that reward into money, to be equally divided amongst them
all, namely, twenty shillings apiece; and those she also delivered
particularly to each one of the whole company; and “so, taking her
ease upon the cushion of state, and hearing the choir a little while,
her Majesty withdrew herself and the company departed; for it was by
that time the sun-setting.” This account is taken from that of William
Lambarde an Antiquary, who is quoted by John Nichols in his _Progresses
of Queen Elizabeth_ (vol. i.).

[Illustration: “HOW TO FLEE THE HEARON”

From Turberville’s _Booke of Falconrie_, 1575.]

The custom of making New Year’s gifts to the Queen was duly honoured
every year. The list of the gifts for 1562 as presented by Nichols
contains the names of all the noble lords and great ladies in the
kingdom, the Bishops, and the Court: nearly two hundred in number.
These gifts are of all kinds: gold boxes; purses of money; embroidered
sleeves; sugar loaves; ginger; sweetmeats; a smock of silk;
handkerchiefs “garnished with gold, silver, and silk”; carved coffers;
sleeves embroidered with gold; silk hose—two such gifts; fine glass;
gilt cups; tankards, bowls, spoons, and salts; and so on. On the other
hand, the gifts which the Queen had to make constantly to Ambassadors,
to her officers, to the christening and marriage feasts of the people
about the Court, would seem to run away with most of these presents. It
is worthy of note that in all the long list of gifts of 1562 there is
not one single picture or statue.

[Illustration: The Chariott drawne by foure Horses upon which chariot
stood the Coffin covered wth purple velvett and upon that the
representation. The Canapy borne by six Knights.

QUEEN ELIZABETH’S FUNERAL

A section from a contemporary MS. scroll in British Museum.]

The following is Hentzner’s account of the Queen’s Court at Greenwich
(Nichols vol. ii.):—

  “We next arrived at the Royal Palace of Greenwich, reported to
  have been originally built by Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester,
  and to have received very magnificent additions from Henry
  VII. It was here Elizabeth, the present Queen, was born, and
  here she generally resides, particularly in Summer, for the
  delightfulness of its situation. We were admitted, by an
  order Mr. Rogers procured from the Lord Chamberlain, into
  the Presence Chamber, hung with rich tapestry, and the floor
  after the English fashion strewed with hay, through which the
  Queen commonly passes on her way to Chapel; at the door stood
  a Gentleman dressed in velvet, with a gold chain, whose
  office was to introduce to the Queen any person of distinction
  that came to wait on her; it was Sunday, when there is usually
  the greatest attendance of Nobility. In the same Hall were the
  Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of London, a great number
  of Counselors of State, Officers of the Crown, and Gentlemen,
  who waited the Queen’s coming out: which she did from her
  own apartment when it was time to go to prayers, attended in
  the following manner: First went Gentlemen, Barons, Earls,
  Knights of the Garter, all richly dressed and bareheaded; next
  came the Chancellor, bearing the seals in a red silke purse,
  between two; one of which carried the Royal Sceptre, the other
  the Sword of State, in a red scabbard, studded with golden
  fleurs-de-lis, the point upwards; next came the Queen, in the
  sixty-fifth year of her age, as we are told, very majestic: her
  face oblong, fair, but wrinkled; her eyes small, yet black and
  pleasant; her nose a little hooked; her lips narrow and her
  teeth black (defect the English seem subject to from their too
  great use of sugar); she had in her ears two pearls, with very
  rich drops; she wore false hair and that red; upon her head
  she had a small crown, reported to be made of some of the gold
  of the celebrated Lunebourg Table. Her bosom was uncovered, as
  all the English Ladies have it till they marry; and she had on
  a necklace of exceeding fine jewels; her hands were small, her
  fingers long, and her stature neither tall nor low; her air
  was stately, her manner of speaking mild and obliging. That
  day she was dressed in white silk, bordered with pearls of the
  size of beans, and over it a mantle of black silk, shot with
  silver threads; her train was very long, the end of it borne
  by a Marchioness; instead of a chain, she had an oblong collar
  of gold and jewels. As she went along in all this state and
  magnificence, she spoke very graciously, first to one, then
  to another, whether foreign ministers or those who attended
  for different reasons, in English, French, and Italian; for,
  besides being well skilled in Greek, Latin, and the languages
  I have mentioned, she is mistress of Spanish, Scotch, and
  Dutch; whoever speaks to her, it is kneeling; now and then she
  raises some with her hand. While we were there, W. Slawata,
  a Bohemian Baron, had letters to present to her; and she,
  after pulling off her glove, gave him her right hand to kiss,
  sparkling with rings and jewels, a mark of particular favour;
  wherever she turned her face as she was going along, everybody
  fell down on their knees. The ladies of the Court followed
  next to her, very handsome and well-shaped, and for the most
  part dressed in white; she was guarded on each side by the
  Gentlemen Pensioners, fifty in number, with gilt battle-axes.
  In the anti-chapel next the Hall, where we were, petitions were
  presented to her, and she received them most graciously, which
  occasioned the acclamation of ‘Long live Queen Elizabeth!’
  She answered it with, ‘I thank you, my good people.’ In the
  Chapel was excellent music; as soon as it and the service was
  over, which scarce exceeded half an hour, the Queen returned
  in the same state and order, and prepared to go to dinner. But
  while she was still at prayers, we saw her table set out with
  the following solemnity: A Gentleman entred the room bearing
  a rod, and along with him another who had a table-cloth,
  which, after they had both kneeled three times with the utmost
  veneration, he spread upon the table, and after kneeling again
  they both retired. Then came two others, one with the rod
  again, the other with a salt-cellar, a plate, and bread; when
  they had both kneeled, as the others had done, and placed what
  was brought upon the table, they too retired with the same
  ceremonies performed by the first. At last came an unmarried
  lady (we were told she was a Countess) and along with her a
  married one, bearing a tasting knife; the former was dressed in
  white silk, who, when she had prostrated herself three times
  in the most graceful manner, approached the table, and rubbed
  the plates with bread and salt, with as much awe as if the
  Queen had been present; when they had waited there a little
  while, the Yeomen of the Guard entered, bare-headed, cloathed
  in scarlet, with a golden rose upon their backs, bringing in
  at each turn a course of twenty-four dishes, served in plate,
  most of it gilt; these dishes were received by a gentleman in
  the same order they were brought, and placed upon the table,
  while the lady-taster gave to each of the guards a mouthful to
  eat, of the particular dish he had brought, for fear of any
  poison. During the time that this guard, which consists of the
  tallest and stoutest men that can be found in all England,
  being carefully selected for the service, were bringing dinner,
  twelve trumpets and two kettle-drums made the hall ring for
  half an hour together. At the end of this ceremonial, a number
  of unmarried ladies appeared, who, with particular solemnity,
  lifted the meat off the table, and conveyed it into the Queen’s
  inner and more private chamber, where, after she has chosen for
  herself, the rest goes to the Ladies of the Court. The Queen
  dines and sups alone, with very few attendants; and it is very
  seldom that anybody, foreigner or native, is admitted at that
  time, and then only at the intercession of somebody in power.”

[Illustration: THE PALACE OF GREENWICH (PLACENTIA)]

[Illustration:

_Walker & Cockerell._

QUEEN ELIZABETH (1533–1603)

From a painting in the National Portrait Gallery. Painter unknown, but
probably Marc Gheeraedts.]

The great popularity of the Queen, and the affection with which she
was regarded by all classes, is shown by the following Proclamation
issued in the year 1563, relating to persons making portraits of Queen
Elizabeth:—

  “Forasmuch as thrugh the natural desire that all sorts of
  subjects and peple, both noble and mean, have to procure the
  portrait and picture of the Queen’s Majestie, great nomber
  of Paynters, and some Printers and gravers, have alredy and
  doe dayly attempt to make in divers manners portraietures of
  hir Majestie in paynting, graving, and prynting, wherein is
  evidently shewn that hytherto none hath sufficiently expressed
  the naturall representation of hir Majesties person, favor,
  or grace, but for the most part have also erred therein, as
  thereof dayly complaints are made amongst hir Majesties loving
  subjectes, in so much that for redres hereof hir Majestie
  hath lately bene so instantly and so importunately sued unto
  by the Lords of hir Consell and others of hir nobility, in
  respect of the great disorder herein used, not only to be
  content that some speciall conning payntor might be permitted
  by access to hir Majestie to take the natural representation
  of hir Majestie, whereof she hath bene allwise of her own
  right disposition very unwillyng, but also to prohibit all
  manner of other persons to draw, paynt, grave, or pourtrayet
  hir Majesties personage or visage for a time, untill by some
  perfect patron and example the same may be by others followed.
  Therfor hir Majestie, being herein as it were overcome with
  the contynuall requests of so many of hir Nobility and
  Lords, whom she cannot well deny, is pleased that for their
  contentations, some coning person mete therefor shall shortly
  make a pourtrait of hir person or visage to be participated to
  others for satisfaction of hir loving subjects, and furthermore
  commandeth all manner of persons in the mean tyme to forbear
  from payntyng, graving, printing, or making of any pourtraits
  of hir Majestie, until some speciali person that shall be by
  hir allowed shall have first finished a pourtraiture thereof,
  after which fynished, hir Majestie will be content that all
  other painters, printers, or gravers, that shall be known men
  of understanding, and so thereto licensed by the hed officers
  of the plaices where they shall dwell (as reason it is that
  every person should not without consideration attempt the same)
  shall and maye at their pleasures follow the sayd patron or
  first portraiture. And for that hir Majestie perceiveth that a
  grete nomber of hir loving subjects are much greved and take
  great offence with the errors and deformities allredy committed
  by sondry persons in this behalf, she straitly chargeth all hir
  officers and ministers to see to the due observation hereof,
  and as soon as may be to reform the errors already committed,
  and in the meantime to forbid and prohibit the shewing or
  publication of such as are apparently deformed, until they may
  be reformed which are reformable.”




                               RELIGION




                               CHAPTER I

                    THE DISSOLUTION AND THE MARTYRS


In speaking of the Dissolution of the Religious Houses it must be
understood that I am considering this momentous step with reference to
London only. The influences of the Continental movement; the lessons
of history; the turn taken by theological controversy; the unedifying
spectacle of Rome in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries; the
talk of scholars; the strength of the conservatism which rallied
about the Church at first; the apparent power of the Church, which
seemed, indeed, able to crush every opponent, whatever his rank and
station;—these things moved not, consciously at least, the man of
London. He became acquiescent in the changes imposed upon him by
other considerations. And I believe that had not his acquiescence
been understood as certain to follow, these changes would not have
been attempted. Henry VIII. was the most masterful sovereign of
his time; but a king cannot outrage and trample upon the settled
religious faith of his subjects. The Old Faith had gone to pieces when
Constantine proclaimed the New. The New, in its turn, now grown old and
incrustated, and hidden by a thousand additions, superstitions, and
superfluities, was in its turn ready for departure, in Northern Europe
at least, when Henry effected the separation from Rome which began the
Reformation in England.

Among an ignorant and an uncritical people the ancient Faith passed
unquestioned—was it not the Faith of all those in authority? Its
doctrines were supported less by teaching than by outward forms,
ceremonies, pageants, splendours and traditional conventions. In every
church the story of the Gospels was partly represented, but overlaid
with stories of the Saints; the Christian virtues were never, even
at the lowest point of Church History, forgotten, yet their practice
had become crystallised; almsgiving was part of the Rule of every
Religious Order, but it was indiscriminate; mercy towards the criminal
had become a refuge for those who continued in their evil practices
under cover of Sanctuary; the tradition of austerity no longer brought
respect to the Benedictine; the tradition of self-sacrifice no longer
brought love to the Franciscan: to the former, as to the College of
All Souls, Oxford, the members were _bene nati_, and, I believe, for
the most part _bene morati_ and _moderate docti_; in the more secluded
religious communities discipline was relaxed and scandals had crept
in; for a hundred years and more the people had been gradually ceasing
to endow the Religious Houses with bequests. At the commencement of
the sixteenth century they had wholly ceased the practice, formerly
universal. Monk and Nun; Friar and Sister; Hermit, Anchorite, Anchress,
now received no more bequests; of all the Religious Orders none had
fallen into disrepute so hopelessly as the Franciscans: they were
selling the lead off the roofs of their stately churches; they were
selling their sacred vessels of silver gilt; their boxes, hung up in
the shops—if the shopkeepers admitted them—received no more offerings;
they were insulted in the streets; their numbers were dwindling daily.
Now all these things were like an open book in which those who passed
along the way might read daily, and did read unconsciously, so that
their minds were moulded and directed, they could not tell why or how.

As for the spread of the ideas called Lollardry, one knows not how far
they survived the persecution under Henry V. and the disturbances of
the Civil Wars. But such ideas, whose strength lies in the exercise
of reason, so far as men can reason, do not easily die; the case of
Richard Hun (p. 32) shows that they were still alive. The socialistic
side of Lollardry had vanished, but some, at least, of the religious
side survived.

Yet the old things went on apparently undisturbed. Nothing could
surpass the external splendour of a Cardinal Archbishop: no authority
was greater in appearance than his. The rich endowments of the greater
Abbeys made the Houses magnificent and the Brethren proud, generous,
and profuse in hospitality and in alms. Who could be more dignified
than the Abbot of St. Peter’s, Westminster? Still the Church seemed to
rule in everything: the Fraternities continued; they still attracted
members; they still marched in procession, each with its chaplain and
its singing men, its banners and its brethren, through the streets on
its appointed day; the City Companies were incorporated as Religious as
well as Trade Societies; the Manger and the Holy Tomb still adorned the
churches on the great Festivals; the Angel still flew over the people
from the roof on the Day of Pentecost; the pictures on the wall in
every church recorded the martyrdom of the Saint of Dedication and the
miracles which commanded his canonisation. No one could have dreamed,
no one could have prophesied, when the scholarly young King thundered
against Luther that the old order was drawing to its allotted end, and
that for Rome, as well as Northern Europe, Reform was at hand.

In many ways the Church had long lost its former hold. No longer were
the architects Churchmen; no longer were the bridge builders a distinct
fraternity; the lawyers were clerks, indeed, but not in Holy Orders;
the King’s Ministers were no longer necessarily of the Clergy; scholars
were no longer of necessity ordained priests or deacons; physicians
were laymen; the clergy were allowed to practise surgery, provided
that they did not use fire or steel—in other words, did not conduct
operations; in trade the lending of money—formerly in the hands of the
Jews and afterwards in those of the so-called “Caursini,” Italians
licensed by the Popes—was now recognised as necessary, and was carried
on more or less openly by merchants; in a word, the daily life of the
world, which had been shot through and through, like a piece of silk
with its coloured threads, by Religion, had long been emancipating
itself, by slow and gradual steps, from the control of the Church and
the interference of the priest.

How much these things were understood at the time it is not necessary
to inquire. Probably the people, who knew no history, had been
unconsciously moulded and changed, and were far from realising the
great gulf which now divided them from their ancestors.

Yet there were other signs of change, could they have been rightly
interpreted. Scholars, like Erasmus, openly derided the adoration of
relics; some of them, under new Pagan influence, denied the Christian
faith itself; the scholars of France, like Rabelais and Étienne Dolet,
scoffed at the Pope and the Papal pretensions; yet Rabelais did not
dare to publish in his lifetime the most daring and the most deadly
part of his work.

Add to these things the long-standing disaffection towards the
Roman authority. For centuries the Pope had been attempting fresh
encroachments, claiming new powers, demanding more contributions.
All travellers to Rome brought back the same story of corruption and
laxity; men asked themselves why they should submit to the oppression
of an Italian prince. In 1529 the House of Commons drew up a petition
in which, while they did not ask for a change of doctrine, they
complained of the independent legislation claimed by Convocation, the
number of officers, the exorbitant fees of ecclesiastical courts, the
granting of benefices to children, pluralities, non-residence and other
grievances. Surely such a man as Wolsey must have discerned in all
these symptoms a warning, clear and loud, that their house must be set
in order. Perhaps not, however: nothing is more difficult than for the
ecclesiastical mind to see, outside its fences of doctrine and usage,
the questioning people, and to hear and understand the awakened mind.

The action of Henry, which, on the face of it, seems the most masterful
thing ever attempted by a king, was, on the contrary, approved and
accepted by the great mass of the people; especially by the people of
London, by the scholars, and by the clergy. There were few who emulated
the constancy of the unfortunate Carthusians or the martyrdom of More
and Fisher; the old order crumbled and fell to pieces at a touch;
out of the débris, among the fallen monarchs of the forest, rose up
a tangled mass of vegetation, from which the nobler kinds had to be
separated by trial and proof, by persecution and by cultivation.

The first direct step towards the Reformation was, assuredly, not
considered as such. It was the suppression by Cardinal Wolsey of
certain small houses with whose revenues he endowed his Colleges.

The second direct step was the Petition of the House of Commons, which
also passed the Upper House, in 1529.

In January 1531 the House of Commons, in demanding of the clergy the
payment of £118,000—an enormous sum, representing more than a million
of our money—gave Henry the title of Head of the Church. This was
before the break with Rome; so far it meant only that the civil power
should be superior to the ecclesiastical.

Then followed the Bill for the abolition of _annales_ or payment to the
Pope of the first year’s income of benefice or see. This was at first
held _in terrorem_ over the head of the Pope.

The divorce of Katherine and the King’s marriage with Anne Boleyn
in spite of the opposition of the Pope completed the separation.
Henceforth the King was Head of the Church within his own realm.

It was to show to the whole world that he was in earnest and that he
meant indeed to be Head of the Church, that Henry caused the execution
of the Carthusian monks, of Bishop Fisher, and Sir Thomas More. All
Christendom shuddered when those holy men were dragged forth to suffer
the degrading and horrible death of traitors; yet all Christendom
recognised that there was a King in England who would brook no
interference, who knew his own mind, and would work his own will.

I need not follow the course and the development of the Reformation,
for its history belongs to the whole country. As regards London, two or
three points present themselves for consideration: as, for instance,
the condition of the Houses; the manners and morality of the Religious;
and the mind of the people.

Let us consider these points from the position of a contemporary
Londoner, so far as is possible. First, as to the condition of the
Houses.

The enormous wealth of the Church could not fail to impress every one
with the incongruity of ecclesiastical professions and practices.
The sight of those scores of able-bodied men, most of them with no
pretensions to be considered scholars, or divines, or even gentlemen—a
qualification which, at the time, might have been sufficient
justification for living on the work of others—but men of low origin
and of narrow attainments, lounging about the streets and in the
taverns—some, as the friars, with no apparent duties at all; some,
like the chantry priests, with half an hour’s work every day; many
of them without the least pretence to piety or virtue—could not but
become a powerful aid in the popular approval of the Dissolution. In
London alone, a very large part of the City belonged to the Church.
The streets swarmed with ecclesiastics who, in the midst of a busy and
industrial population, seemed idle and useless.

In the Italian _Relations of England_ the writer speaks of the vast
wealth of the Church and the power of the ecclesiastics. “I for my
part,” he says, “believe that the English priests would desire nothing
better than what they have got, were it not they are obliged to assist
the Crown in time of war, and also to keep many poor gentlemen, who are
left beggars in consequence of the inheritance devolving to the eldest
son. And if the Bishops were to decline this expense they would be
considered infamous, nor do I believe that they would be safe in their
own churches.”

[Illustration: CARTHUSIAN MARTYRS

From a historical print in the British Museum.]

There is surely some confusion here. It is true that younger sons
attached themselves to the following of the great Lords Spiritual as
well as Temporal, but I have nowhere else found it stated that it was
the duty of the Church to keep them. Also many of them, as we have
seen, had City connections and embarked in trade. For “Church” we
should perhaps read “the Monastic Houses.”

If we come to consider the condition of the Religious on the score
of morality, all that can be said concerning those of London is that
we hear nothing against them. It is true that the details of the
Visitations of London have not been revealed. But there could not
have been anything very bad, or it would have been laid hold of and
enlarged upon, and pointed out for the execration of the people, by the
preachers of the new religion.

Froude, in his paper on the Dissolution of the Monasteries, argues
that the evidence of immorality on the part of certain Religious
Houses is overwhelming. His case against that of St. Albans is
certainly convincing, so far as that House alone is concerned. And
it is difficult not to believe that in other cases about the country
the evidence of the visitors, even granting that their own private
character left a good deal to be desired, is much too detailed for pure
invention.

But, as regards the Religious of London, I am not aware that there is
any evidence to prove that they were either notoriously or secretly
corrupt or luxurious. Considering the pristine standard of the Rule,
they were doubtless degenerate, just as in a College of Oxford or
Cambridge fifty years ago, the Fellows who should have carried on
the lamp of learning spent their time in the study of Port and the
practice of Whist. Father Gasquet argues in favour of the whole body
of nuns—London or country—when he cites the case of Sister Joan. In
the year 1535 the Archbishop of York visited a certain convent in his
diocese and learned that one of the nuns had been guilty of unchastity.
He inflicted upon her a sentence of great severity: she was to be
kept in prison for two years, without speaking to any one but the
Prioress; she was to fast altogether on Wednesday and Friday; and on
every Friday she was to be taken to the Chapter House, there to receive
discipline—_i.e._ to be whipped. Is it possible, Father Gasquet asks,
that the nunneries of England could be grossly and openly immoral—even
secretly immoral—when such a severe punishment was meted out to an
offender by the visiting archbishop? One might point out that a severe
punishment may tell of two things: either of horror at a rare and
heinous offence, or of a determination, by severe measures, to put down
a too frequent breaking of the vows of chastity.

Concerning, therefore, the morals of the London Religious, there has
been no special charge, so far as I know, brought against the whole
body. We may remember, however, that the number of persons bound by
vows of celibacy was very large; that even at the present time, when
there is certainly more self-restraint, it would be impossible for
these vows to be kept by so large a proportion of the people; and that
the clergy, in morals and in practice, have never been more than a
little in advance of the laity.

The many acts of unchastity of which one reads in the books were
perhaps scattered and solitary instances. I refer, however, to
certain documents which prove, not the common prevalence of vice, but
relaxation of the Rule. They are a collection of papers, the charges of
Langland, Bishop of Lincoln, early in the sixteenth century, published
in _Archæologia_ (vol. xlvii.). They point to laxity, not to vice.

[Illustration: SIR THOMAS MORE (1478–1535)

From the painting by Holbein in the National Portrait Gallery, London.]

The first is a charge to the Abbess and Convent of Elstow, near
Bedford. In this House the Sisters, instead of assembling in the
Fratry for their meals, were accustomed to gather together in what
they called their “Households”; apparently messes of two or more, at
which secular men, women, and children were allowed to be present. This
has to be amended. Henceforth they may repair to the Misericorde, but
only one or two at a time, and then under charge of an elderly sister.
Their attendance at the services in the “Quire” has become irregular,
henceforth they are all to attend every service; they are not to look
about the church upon the people during service, for which purpose
a door is to be constructed shutting off the choir. They had become
irregular about their dress, henceforth they are not to wear their
dresses cut low. As for the Lady Abbess, she herself is ordered to get
up and attend matins with the rest, and not to break her fast nor to
sup with the steward or any secular man.

Clearly, a House requiring reformation, yet not blameworthy of the
grosser sins.

There was the Priory of Studley, a Benedictine Nunnery in the Parish of
Beckley, Oxfordshire, the burial-place of the British Saint Donanverdh,
and one of the residences of Richard of Almayn, brother of Henry. The
Prioress is warned to dismiss a certain steward, named Marten Whighill;
she is not to suffer her ladies to become godmothers, nor to go out
on visits to their kinsfolk “onles it be for their comforte in tyme
of ther syknesse, and yett nott then onlesse it shal seme to you,
ladye priores, to be behoveful and necessarye, seeing that undre such
pretence muche insolency have bene used in religion.” Considering,
further, that the House is in great debt, the Prioress is to grant no
more corrodies, _i.e._ right of board and lodging in the House; to have
fewer servants; and to live “in a scarcer manour.” She is to look more
carefully after the food of the Sisters; she is to see that they wear
their robes; and she is to admit more ladies.

The Prioress of Cotham, in Lincolnshire, is to see that there is more
order in the singing of the novices. This House has grown very lax. The
kinsfolk of the Sisters were no longer to be admitted; the Chaplain was
not to be allowed the key of the church; the Lord of Misrule was not to
be admitted at Christmas. Then, some of the Sisters had been allowed to
go out into the world under pretence of pilgrimage, which license had
caused great scandals. Henceforth they were not to be allowed out of
the House for the night, nor out of the House at all unless accompanied
by a devout Sister. Again, the Sisters had been allowed to go on visits
to Thornton, Newsome, Hull (where there were other nunneries), and the
Bishop speaks strongly of the reproach, rebuke, and shame which the
rumours of their conduct had brought upon them. This House is the worst
case of the four. Certain persons named are absolutely forbidden within
the walls. Sir John Warde, Sir Richard Calverley, Sir William Johnson,
the Parson of Skotton, and Sir William Sele, are those who have brought
upon themselves by their misconduct this prohibition. Lastly, since the
House had been reduced to miserable poverty, the Prioress must diminish
her servants, grant no more corrodies, sell no more plate, and get the
necessary repairs effected as speedily as possible.

The last of the charges is one to the Abbot of Missenden, in
Buckinghamshire. This House, also, has fallen into poverty; there must
be a diminished number of servants and a simpler table; there must
be no more granting of corrodies; the House must be put into repair.
There was no school for the novices; a man learned in grammar must be
appointed at once; the boys must be kept apart; in future the monks
must not be allowed to wander about outside, day and night, as had been
the case. And no women were to be admitted either by day or by night.
John Compton was to be turned out of the monastery at once—he was
probably the steward; and Dom John Slithurst was to be put in prison
and kept there.

These accounts indicate very clearly the decay of discipline in the
Houses. The Prioress eats and drinks with her steward; the Sisters
entertain their kinsfolk within the walls; the church plate is sold to
pay debts; the Sisters get outside on any pretext—then come scandals.
Certain persons are so much mixed up with these scandals that they must
never be allowed within the House at all; the Sisters adopt as much of
the fashions of the world as they can; they shirk the services; they
relieve the monotony of their lives by going on pilgrimages. As to the
monks they get out alone, all night long. What scandals made the Bishop
so determined upon keeping women out of the House altogether? And
what had Dom Slithurst done, more than his fellows, that he was to be
clapped into prison and kept there?

It will be replied that these are all Houses in the country. That is
quite true; yet I think that, considering the attacks on the Religious;
the decay of the Friars; the withdrawal of bequests from monks and
friars alike,—the London Houses must have been open at least to charges
of laxity; and I would not press against them anything more severe. In
the admonition of the Dean of St. Paul’s to the Nuns of St. Helen’s,
laxity, not vice, was the principal complaint. Those who believe that
graver charges might be brought may read the famous accusation against
the Abbot of St. Albans—a thing, to my mind, impossible to get over.
True, St. Albans is not London, which is a saving clause.

Enough about the condition of the Houses and the morality of the
Religious. I hear certain whispers where men congregate: they
murmur—_tacenda_. I have no proof that they are true; but I understand
that the holiness of the Religious is no longer accepted as a matter of
course; it is enough for one that this is so. The work of the Houses
is done when the people no longer desire the prayers of brethren
_inclusi_, and sisters immured; and no longer expect the pristine
devotion of the Friars.

The suppression of the Religious Houses and its immediate effects in
London are passed over by Stow, in his _Survey_, with great brevity.
It is a pity; we should like so much to have a clear understanding of
how the people at large received these measures. Now this historian was
born in 1525; he could remember, therefore, not only the Dissolution,
but also the condition of the City under the old _régime_. It is much
to be lamented, further, that though he could find time and space to
give whole pages to the Coronation of Anne Boleyn, he could not give
more than a brief note on the suppression of one House after another.
He remembered the Franciscans going in and about everywhere in their
grey gowns; the Dominicans in black; the Carmelites in white; he
remembered the riding apparel of the monks; he remembered—he notices,
in fact—the hospitality of the richer houses; he remembered the stately
churches towering above the humble parish churches, as Westminster
above St. Margaret’s; St. Augustine’s over Peter le Poor; the Holy
Trinity over St. Catherine Cree; their peals of bells; their organs;
their treasures of gold and silver plate; their church furniture,
sumptuous with cloth of gold and velvet. He remembered the splendour,
wealth, authority, and power of the old ecclesiastics. Their authority
seemed rooted in the solid rock, never to be destroyed; and he
remembered how this substantial ecclesiastical structure vanished at
a word, at a touch, leaving behind it nothing but ruined cloisters;
churches desecrated; carvings and marbles broken up. In his old age he
sat alone and marvelled over these things. But he spoke not. Perhaps
it was dangerous, even for a historian, to speak—Stow had already been
accused of being a favourer, at least, of the old Order; regrets were
accounted traitorous; sympathy with the outcast monk was heresy—or,
which was as dangerous, was _lèse Majesté_. Not every one desired
the crown of martyrdom: to most people it was disagreeable to be
burned—one would avoid this method of extinction if possible; almost
as disagreeable was it to be dragged on a hurdle, half hanged, cut
down, and then quartered. So Stow wrote nothing about the old time as
compared with that which followed.

In a single passage, however, Stow does allow us to understand
something of his opinion as to the whole business. No doubt many people
looked about for some mark of the Divine displeasure upon those who
took an active part in the Dissolution. To this day, certain persons
whisper about the families which succeeded to the monastic houses; if
anything happens to them it is put down to the vengeance which must
be expected to follow upon the sacrilegious occupation of monastic
property; nothing is said, of course, as to the long prosperity which
has attended most of the families which still occupy the old monastic
lands.

  “About such time as Cardinall Wolsey was determined to erect
  his new Colledges in Oxford and Ipswich, he obtayned licence
  and authoritie of Pope Clement the Seventh to suppresse about
  the number of fortie Monasteries of good fame, and bountifull
  hospitalitie, wherin the King bearing with all his doings, neyther
  Bishop nor temporall Lorde in this Realme durst saye any worde to
  the contrarie.

  In the executing of this business, five persons were his chiefe
  instruments, who on a time made a demaunde to the Prior and
  Convent of the Monasterie of Daintrie, for occupying of certayne
  of theyr groundes, but the Monkes refusing to satisfie their
  requests, streightway they picked a quarrel agaynst the house,
  and gave information to the Cardinall agaynste them, who taking a
  small occasion, commaunded the house to bee dissolved, and to bee
  converted to hys new Colledge, but of thys irreligious robberie,
  done of no conscience, but to patch up pride, whiche private wealth
  coulde not furnishe, what punishmente hath since ensued at God’s
  hande (sayeth myne Author) partly ourselves have seene, for of
  those fyve persons, two fell at discorde betweene themselves, and
  the one slewe the other, for the which the survivor was hanged;
  the thirde drowned himselfe in a well; the fourth beeing well
  knowne, and valued worth two hundred pounde, became in three
  yeares so poore, that hee begged to hys dying day; and the fifth
  called Doctor Allane, beeyng chiefe executor of these doyngs, was
  cruelly maymed in Irelande, even at suche tyme as hee was a Bishop;
  the Cardinall falling after into the King’s greevous displeasure,
  was deposed, and dyed miserably; the Colledges whiche hee meante
  to have made so glorious a building, came never to good effect;
  and Pope Clement himselve, by whose authoritie these houses were
  throwne downe to the ground was after enclosed in a dangerous siege
  within the Castell of Saint Angell in Rome by the Emperialles; the
  Citie of Rome was pitifully sacked; and himselfe narrowly escaped
  with his life.”

I have repeatedly spoken of the falling off in bequests to the various
Religious Orders during the hundred years preceding the Reformation.
The fact, indeed, seems to be most important in considering the
attitude of the citizens. That it is a fact may be proved by the
following table, compiled from the _Calendar of Wills_. I have already
made some extracts from the Wills in proof of the change of popular
opinion in this respect; this table considers the fact from another
point of view.

Of course we have not, in these pages, all the Wills, nor anything
more than a small fraction of the Wills made by the Citizens during
the centuries covered by the contents of these two volumes. But they
may be taken as representative wills, in whatever manner they present
contemporary opinion. Now, as regards bequests to Religious Houses, I
have made the following analysis. I take three periods. (1) from 1250
to 1350; (2) from 1350 to 1450; (3) from 1450 to the Dissolution, say
1538; covering nearly three centuries. During these three periods the
following is the number of bequests:—

   1. To the various Orders of Friars for 1250–1350        20
                                          1350–1450        12
                                          1450–1540         4

   2. To the Charter House for the 1st period, not founded.
                                   2nd   „                 31
                                   3rd   „                 14

   3. To the Grey Friars for the 1st period, bequests included among the
       various Orders.
                                 2nd   „                   20
                                 3rd   „                  none

   4. To the Black Friars 1st period, included among various Orders.
                          2nd   „                          10
                          3rd   „                           1

   5. To the Holy Trinity Priory for the 1st period        17
                                         2nd   „       46 (?)

   6. To Eastminster for the 1st period, not yet founded.
                             2nd   „                        7
                             3rd   „                        2

   7. To St. Helen’s for the 1st period                    18
                             2nd   „                       12
                             3rd   „                     none

   8. Crutched Friars for the 1st period                   13
                              2nd   „                      10
                              3rd   „                       1

   9. Carmelite or White Friars, 1st period                15
                                 2nd   „                   11
                                 3rd   „                    1

  10. Austin Friars for 1st period                         13
                        2nd   „                            13
                        3rd   „    for masses               2

  11. St. Bartholomew’s for 1st period                     14
                            2nd   „                        13
                            3rd   „                         2

  12. Haliwell for 1st period                              12
                   2nd   „                                 20
                   3rd   „                                  2

  13. Minoresses for 1st period                             9
                     2nd   „                               18
                     3rd   „                                3

These figures show most unmistakably that the monastic life was no
longer regarded as it had been by the people of London. By the friars
especially, _i.e._ by those who could read the signs of the time, it
must have been understood that the end was very near. Not the alleged
immorality of the Religious, but the decay of their numbers, the
wasting of their property, the withdrawal of support by the laity,
might have warned those under vows that a change was nigh at hand. I do
not suppose that many of them heard this warning. Who could believe,
standing in the great church, glittering with lights, with gold and
silver, rich with colour, splendid with carved work, that the axe was
already laid to the root?

The people of London were not, it is true, consulted. Henry was not
the kind of man to consult the illiterate on points of Theology or
Spiritual Government. They were, however, filled with a vague unrest
of new ideas; we know not what survivals of the old Lollardry lingered
and were whispered about, or spoken openly; we know not how widely the
ballads and satirical verses against monks and friars were repeated
and sung and made the subject of merriment in the taverns. We do know,
however, that the King ordered and that the people of London obeyed.
I think it incredible that even the most masterful of English kings
should have dared to force changes so radical upon an unwilling city.
London was never remarkable for meekness, and in matters religious was
never uncertain. The King must have known that the people of London,
at least, would be with him. London, therefore, obeyed; the people
looked on while the Pope of Rome vanished; they made no protest when
they saw Monks, Nuns, and Friars turned out of doors and their Houses
closed; they looked on without a murmur even when the Carthusians
were dragged to a horrible doom. Was this callousness? Was it fear?
Was it acquiescence in the Revolution, with the hope of larger things
to follow? For my own part, looking at the attitude of the citizens
during the successive reigns of Henry, Edward, Mary, and Elizabeth, I
think there can be no doubt as to the general opinion at the time, and
that it was from the outset in favour of the Dissolution of the Houses
and the Dispersion of the Religious; in favour of denying the authority
of the Pope; eager for the free readings of the Holy Scriptures in the
vulgar tongue and for the right of that private interpretation which
seems so easy to the illiterate. As regards ritual, the changes, as
will be explained later, were gradual; the introduction of distinctive
Protestant doctrine was not brought about in a day; the genesis of the
Puritanic spirit does not belong to the Revolution under Henry.

[Illustration: MARTYRS AT SMITHFIELD

E. Gardner’s Collection.]

Let us endeavour to realise something of the extraordinary change which
the Suppression of the Houses brought about in London. Fortunately the
work was carried on by successive Acts, covering a period of fifteen
years or so; it was not until 1548, for instance, that the whole of the
chantries, colleges, etc., were suppressed.

The point of departure is, naturally, the expulsion and the dispersion
of the Religious of all Orders. At this point most historians stop. Yet
this was only the beginning.

Consider, then, the number of those turned out of the London Houses.
We may arrive at an approximation of the number by the following
considerations. There were 202 Houses, not counting Friaries, dissolved
in 1538–1540.

They contained, in all, 3221 Monks and Canons. This gives an average of
16 Brethren to each House. Now there were in London some twenty Houses
great and small—say from St. Peter’s, Westminster, to Jesus Commons. In
the same proportion there would thus be 300 Monks and Canons. In the
same proportion, also, there would be about a fourth of that number of
Nuns. Now, these monks and nuns were not sent out into a cold world
empty-handed. Not at all. They received pensions. The nuns of St.
Helen’s, for instance, received pensions of £2:14:4 each. The chantry
priests of the same place, whose stipends had been £6:13:4 and £7
respectively, obtained pensions of £5 each. We must, in fact, put aside
altogether the generally received notion of the Dissolution as an Act
which drove thousands of holy men and women out of their homes—abodes
of piety and virtue—to starve. There was no starvation at all: the
pensions though small were intended to be sufficient; we have therefore
the fact that some 400 Religious of London were made to lay down the
habit of their Profession and to go forth into the world on pensions
large enough to maintain them. What became of them? Many of the older
monks and nuns doubtless felt acutely the change of habit; the loss of
the former life—its quiet, its self-centred interests, its community;
some of the younger men, we cannot doubt, willingly turned themselves
to secular pursuits; some lived quietly, keeping up privately, two or
three together, some manner of religious life; some were concealed
in the country and a few, perhaps, in town, and led the life of the
Rule in a clandestine manner; some, again, the restraint of their vows
being withdrawn, ran into excesses and fell into the mire; some haunted
taverns, to the disgrace of their former calling. But of suffering or
privation I cannot discover that there was much, if any, either for
monks or nuns. It is pretended that the pensions were irregularly paid.
The evidence seems to me insufficient; in regard to the nuns of St.
Helen’s, we have positive evidence pointing in the opposite direction.

The greatest sufferers were, as we have seen, the friars. For them
there was no pity; for them there were no pensions; no one believed in
them any longer; their day was done. There appeared, a short time ago,
a book written by one who had been for twelve years a friar: he came
out of the House; he laid down his frock and renounced his vows; and
he wrote a book in which he described the life of his late brethren.
It is not an exaggerated or an ill-natured book; it is simply a plain
statement of the manner of life led by the friars of these days.
Looking through its pages one begins unconsciously to consider the
friars of the early sixteenth century—the friars in their last days—by
the light of this revelation. Now the modern friar is a man of some
education and some culture. Take away his education and his culture in
order to get at the friar of the Tudor time. Place him in a time much
rougher and coarser in manners; give him nothing to do: no work either
of mental or physical kind; and to the general futility and unreality
of life in a modern friary add the temptations, almost irresistible to
the uneducated mind of the ordinary friar, of the world around him. In
this way one may succeed, perhaps, in understanding the reasons for the
unpopularity of the friars.

[Illustration: The North Prospect of Westminster Abbey

From an engraving by G. Collins. A. Rischgitz’ Collection.]

It is generally stated that riches flowed in upon the friars as a
consequence of the respect in which they were held. That is not the
case: they were never rich. They owned a few houses built within the
limits of their own precinct, the rent of which went to maintain the
fabric of the church, and the service. For themselves the friars
possessed no great buildings, except the Church, the Library, and the
Hall: and they lived on charity at the end of their time as at the
beginning. Wyclyf makes much of their churches. “Freres bylden mony
grete churches and costily houses, and cloystris as hit were castels
and that withoute nede. Grete houses make not men holy, and onely by
holiness is God wel served.”

The friars were not rich, but they were proud: they arrogated power and
sanctity for their very robe. Those who died in the Franciscan habit
could never, they said, be carried away by the devil. Walsingham, who
had, perhaps, the jealousy of a monk, thus wrote of them:—

  “The friars, unmindful of their profession, have even forgotten
  to what end their Orders were instituted; for the holy men their
  lawgivers desired them to be poor and free of all kind of temporal
  possessions, that they should not have anything which they might
  fear to lose on account of saying the truth. But now they are
  envious of possessors, approve the crimes of the great, induce
  the commonalty into error, and praise the sins of both; and with
  the intent of acquiring possessions, they who had renounced
  possessions, with the intent of gathering money, they who had sworn
  to persevere in poverty, call good evil and evil good, leading
  astray princes by adulation, the people by lies, and drawing both
  with themselves out of the straight path.”

They disappeared. What became of them? It is impossible to say. Some
of the Sisters went to Flanders; some of those who were in priests’
orders obtained benefices; some took up honest work; for many, work was
impossible. If a man gets to thirty or so without doing any work, it
becomes impossible that he should ever do any work.

The Brethren, however, were not the only people who lived upon
the revenues of the House. Every Monastic Foundation had its own
establishment and was complete in itself. Of course, the superfluity
of officers and the general waste of work were, from a modern point of
view, deplorable. Every House had its mill, its brewery, its bakery,
its still-rooms, its gardens, orchards, fish-ponds, vineyards; its
servants of all kinds, including bailiffs, serjeants, scriveners,
illuminators, carvers, gilders, singing men, singing schools, huntsmen,
farmers, carpenters, plumbers, gardeners, agriculturists, sextons,
gate-porters, rent-collectors, lawyers, stewards, and one knows not
what besides. When the House was closed all these people were turned
adrift, certainly, without pensions. Thousands of families, for these
people were not under vows and were married, were suddenly deprived of
their means of livelihood. What could they do? The ordinary craftsmen
would make shift: their Companies helped them; but the better sort,
the scriveners, limners, illuminators, painters, carvers, gilders; the
bailiffs, lawyers, stewards,—what could they do? For fifteen years
London was flooded with the people of the monasteries turned adrift to
find a means of living; they were not people who swelled the ranks of
the vagabond and the masterless; they were respectable and honest folk.
Their struggles and their sufferings, if we could get at them, must
have been very real and, in many cases, very terrible.

There were, next, the people who lived by the making and selling
of things no longer wanted under the new order. There were the
makers of ecclesiastical vestments and robes; altar cloths; wax
tapers; instruments required in the celebration of Mass; crosses and
crucifixes; beads, reliquaries, images, and all the “properties”
required for the old Faith. Also all those who sold tapers, beads,
crosses, images, relics, books of hours, mass books, censers and
every kind of church vessel. One has only to look at the shops in the
vicinity of a French cathedral to understand the extent of the business
when not a single cathedral, but a hundred and fifty parish churches,
and monastic chapels, had to be provided for, and when all the people,
with one consent, acquiesced in the doctrines, and practised the ritual
of the Church.

[Illustration: STEPHEN GARDINER, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER (1483(?)-1555)

From an engraving of the portrait in Trinity Hall, Cambridge.]

All these people, thus deprived of their livelihood, were skilled
craftsmen. When their occupation was gone, when embroidered
altar-cloths, copes and vestments stiff with cloth of gold, carven
images, sacred pictures, beads and crosses and crucifixes, were no
longer wanted, what could they do? If, at the present day, any single
branch of industry is suddenly destroyed, what happens? It is too late
for the people concerned to learn another trade. What happened to these
unfortunates it is impossible to guess. One thing we know, namely, in
general terms, that London was in a miserable condition for a quarter
of a century after the Dissolution of the Houses; and we may fairly
conclude that not bad trade alone, but also the great number of poor
and forlorn creatures who had been hurled by the Reformation from
comfort to penury, was one cause of the depression.

Or, if we consider the immediate external effects of the Suppression;
think of the unwonted silence, when all the bells of all the Monastic
Houses were taken down: instead of the melodious pealing from forty
chapels, there was left only the sorry tinkle of the parish bell.

From the streets disappeared all the friars: those of St. Francis,
of St. Dominic, of St. Augustine, the Carmelites, and those with the
Iron Cross. The old familiar figures had been diminishing in numbers,
but they were still visible when the end came: still they went about,
opening their money-boxes in the shops, and finding nothing. Afterwards
one met, flitting along the streets, stray and forlorn figures clad
like craftsmen, but knowing no craft; sturdy beggars who would not
work; men and women turned out into the stony-hearted streets, filled
with rage and bitterness; looking always for the restoration of the
old Order and their own return to the quiet house of ease and comfort.
Gone, too, were the servants of the Houses; they had been known by the
badge upon their shoulders; gone was the vast army of chantry priests,
subdeacons, and ecclesiastics, with all the minor Orders. When Queen
Mary restored the ancient Faith the priests appeared again, leaping
out from unknown dens and secret places, ready to resume suddenly the
restored service before the newly adorned altar. And as London always
attracted the masterless and the vagabond and the criminal, so from
all parts of England flocked to the City those whom the Reformation
had sent out homeless and penniless. The clergy, for their part, lost
the greater part of their fees. The baptisms, marriages, and funerals,
it is true, continued, but the fees for masses to be said for the
dead—the most important part of the fees—the endowments of chantries,
post obits, and memorial days, were all swept away. There were many
chantry priests in every parish church. Why, only a few years before
the Reformation, on the death of Lady Jane Seymour, Sir Richard Gresham
ordered 1200 masses to be sung in the City churches for the repose of
her soul. And when prayers for the dead were forbidden, and what had
been an aristocratic Heaven, open especially to the rich because they
could buy their entrance by masses, became a democratic Heaven, open
to the poor and lowly as much as to the high and mighty, the loss to
the clergy from this source was very great. There was also another
loss in the abolition of pilgrimage, and another in the abolition of
confession, penance, and extreme unction.

As for the people, they had their losses to deplore as well as their
gains to rejoice over. They were deprived, for instance, of the most
splendid and gorgeous spectacle open to them, the services of the
Church with the rolling music of the organ, the singing of the choir,
the chanting of the priests; with the illumination of the altar; the
fragrance of the incense; the pictures on the wall; the brilliant side
chapels; the many votive candles; the sculptured saints; and all that
appealed to the eye and to the ear. That service had been performed
by moving figures, they seemed not men, in wondrous robes set off
by the bright lights. It was a service at which the hearts of men
and women with imagination were daily, keenly, sincerely moved and
led heavenward. All this they had to give up. In its place they were
offered a cold and quiet service with a sermon an hour long, appealing
to their reason and bidding them base their faith on logic and argument
instead of the authority and the Voice of the Church, inviting them to
trust in right doctrine rather than in the Fold of Christ. The service
had been the chief instructor in art, music, and æsthetics. When it was
gone what had they left? There were no more pictures for the people;
there was no more grand and solemn music for them; only the tinkling
of the mandoline in the tavern, or the “noise” of the whifflers who
marched before a prisoner; there was nothing else for them. Mary’s
martyrs made them hate the name of Catholic; they pelted her chaplains
in the street; they hung up a dog, head shorn, to mock the tonsure;
they hung up a cat with a wafer in its paws to mock the Elevation
of the Host. Yet though they were no longer Catholics it cannot be
maintained that they had got very far in Protestantism.

Some of the ancient forms remained: it still continued the duty of
every Christian, as it has always been the duty of every follower
of the Roman Church, to attend service on Sunday morning, and to
communicate on the great festivals of Easter, Christmas, Trinity,
and Whit Sunday. The fast days remained: no flesh could be sold; the
butchers’ shops were closed; none could be eaten on Fridays or in Lent;
there were some who followed the ancient austerities so far as to
fast on Wednesday as well. All classes, high and low, rich and poor,
were constantly engaged in reading the New Testament for proofs of
new doctrine, and the Old Testament for examples and for warnings. In
every ale-house the men wrangled on points of doctrine over their pots;
the women in the doorways discussed obscure points in the teaching of
St. Paul; there were none so ignorant as not to be able to formulate
a whole body of doctrines; in every barber’s shop there was a Bible;
already men had begun to set up strange and absurd teachings, in their
ignorant and fond attempts to discern the Truth in a weak translation;
already some had begun to go about in sad-coloured garments, without
ornament, colour, or decoration, even with texts ostentatiously bound
round their hats or their sleeves, like the phylacteries of the
Pharisees.

In London the better sort of people towards the end of the century
became infected with Puritanism. Puritans were known by their outward
and visible signs: they wore texts on their arms; they hated starch
and had limp cuffs; they wore no hatbands; they would not curl their
hair, but carried it lank; those who were shopkeepers always had
a Bible open on the counter; they hated the theatre and all other
amusements; in church they would have no organ; they used strange
words, calling, for instance, godfather and godmother “witnesses”; they
spoke of Christ-tide instead of Christmas; whole trades in London went
“solid” for Puritanism, _e.g._ the feathermen of Blackfriars; they
were intolerant and fanatic; they desired above all things to abolish
Episcopacy. They showed their opinions by their manner of singing,
which was without the accompaniment of organs, and by slowly drawling
their words. The Puritans would not greatly care for irreverence in St.
Paul’s: they gave no reverence to a consecrated place; yet they went to
church in order to worship and to hear godly sermons. Therefore they
could not look on unmoved when they saw St. Paul’s crowded with people
who went there in order to transact business, to buy and sell, to talk,
to quarrel, to fight, to make assignations or to keep them, to display
fine dress, to be hired in service.

To a certain class, the larger class, otherwise the thing would have
been impossible; these changes were welcomed with the greatest joy
because they declared and emphasised the revolution of religious
thought. For the majority the pendulum had swung round from the faith
and trust in the Fold of the Church, to the sense of individual
responsibility. The pendulum is always swinging backwards and forwards.
In our own time we have witnessed a partial return to the belief in a
Fold. The cold service with its long sermon of doctrine; the private
study of the Scriptures; the exercise of individual judgment, free
though unlettered, upon points of doubt and apparent contradiction;—all
formed part of the same movement and appealed to the majority.

At the same time there was another section to whom these things were
hateful and horrible and blasphemous. This was the class which was
ready to forget the old grievances, the intolerable burden of Church
property; the multitudes who lived in sloth, as it appeared; the wide
difference between practice and profession; and thought only, as so
many at the present day think, of the haven of safety promised to the
faithful; the beauty, splendour, and stateliness of the service; the
ecstasy of the believer; the yielding of spirit before the Ineffable
Presence; the visible power and authority of the Roman Catholic Church.
These people looked and prayed daily for a return of the old Faith;
they were recusants under Elizabeth; they concealed the priests who
came over to concoct their conspiracies; they were Romanists first and
Englishmen next, until the horrors of the persecution in Flanders, of
the massacres in France, and the designs of the Spaniards upon England,
made them Englishmen first and Catholics next.

[Illustration:

_A. Rischgitz._

QUEEN ELIZABETH AT PRAYER

Frontispiece to _Christian Prayers_, 1569. From a copy in the Lambeth
Palace Library, which probably belonged to the Queen herself.]

An irreparable loss to the world was the wholesale destruction of the
libraries. Printing, an invention of no longer standing than fifty
years, had as yet produced comparatively few books. When, for instance,
the learned Anthony Brockby had written his book _Ad Fratres_ against
the King’s Supremacy, he did not get it printed, but had a duplicate
copy made, which he presented to the Franciscans, his brothers. By
far the greater part of theology, philosophy, science, and literature
remained in MS., and these MSS. formed the Monastic Libraries. When the
Houses were suppressed, those who obtained them as a gift from the King
for the most part cared nothing about the books: they were dispersed
without any consideration for their use or value; if they were well
bound, the covers were pulled off and the books thrown away, or turned
into waste paper. Thus John Bale writes (_Antiq. English Franciscans_):—

  “Covetousness was at that time so busy about private interest, that
  public wealth was not anywhere regarded. A number of them which
  purchased those superstitious Mansions reserved of those Library
  Books some to serve their Jakes, some to scowr their candlesticks,
  and some to rub their Boots, and some they sold the Grocers and
  Soap sellers, and some they sent over sea to the Bookbinders:
  not in small number, but, at times, whole ships full. Yea, the
  Universities of this Realm are not all clear in this Fact; but
  cursed is the belly which seeks to be fed with so ungodly gains,
  and so deeply shameth his natural country. I know a Merchant man
  (which shall at this time be nameless) that bought the Contents of
  two noble Libraries for forty shillings price; a shame it is to be
  spoken. This stuff hath he occupied, instead of grey paper, by the
  space of more than these ten years, and yet he hath store enough
  for as many years to come. A prodigious example is this, and to be
  abhorred of all men which love their nation as they should do. Yea,
  what may bring our realm to more shame and rebuke than to have it
  noised abroad that we are despisers of learning? I judge this to be
  true, and utter it with heaviness, that neither the Britons under
  the Romans and Saxons, nor yet the English people under the Danes
  and Normans had ever such damage of their learned Monuments as we
  have seen in our time. Our posterity may well curse this wicked
  fact of our age, this unreasonable spoil of England’s most noble
  Antiquities.”... “How many admirable manuscripts of the Fathers,
  Schoolmen, and Commentators were destroyed by this means? What
  number of historians of all ages and Countries? The Holy Scriptures
  themselves, as much as these Gospellers pretended to regard them,
  underwent the fate of the rest. If a Book had a cross on it it
  was condemned for Popery, and those with lines and circles were
  interpreted the Black Art and destroyed for Conjuring. And thus, as
  Fuller goes on, Divinity was profaned, Mathematicks suffered for
  Corespondence with Evil Spirits, Physick was maimed, and a Riot
  committed on the Law itself.”

One change, one result, of the Suppression, everybody can understand.
This was the closing of the Hospitals. London was full of Hospitals,
but they were Religious Houses. St. Bartholomew’s, attached to the
Priory; St. Thomas’, Southwark; St. Mary Spital; Elsing Spital for the
blind; St. Mary of Bethlehem for the insane; the House on Tower Hill
also for the insane; the House of St. Augustine Papey for old priests;
the Infirmary in every Monastic House;—all these provided for the sick
poor. I have no doubt, though on the subject I have no information,
that the Companies, which certainly took care of their sick and their
infirm, must have done so through the existing Hospitals. When the
Houses were closed, what became of the sick? It is commonly believed
that they were turned into the street, no one caring for them. This
was certainly not the case. The Companies cared for their own; the
City cared for its freemen and their families; would the City, which
maintained a debtors’ prison for its freemen, so that they should not
be confined with the general herd, suffer its sick and poor to starve?
There was a residuum of those who were not free, namely, the vagabonds
and masterless men and women. For them there was a time of great
misery; when they were ill there was no one to visit them; no hospital
where they might be taken; no hands to minister and alleviate; no voice
to console and to fortify. And we know nothing, and cannot estimate the
suffering because there were no journalists to publish the things they
saw; and the sick and poor lay unheeded and starved, and died unknown
and uncared for in the dirt and misery of the Tudor slum.

There is no doubt, also, that the open house kept by such a monastery
as the Holy Trinity, where the poor received every day the broken meat
and a great deal more, was greatly missed and deplored by the whole
company of the masterless. What with daily open house at the greater
monasteries, the broken meats of the smaller, the doles and charities
of the parish, the “mind days” with their loaves and gifts to the
poor, bequeathed by rich citizens, a family which objected to work
might rub along in solid and well-fed comfort all the year round. And
this resource, looked upon as certain and unfailing like a perennial
spring, was suddenly stopped. Then all these people had to work, or
to beg, or to rob. The streets became pestered with sturdy beggars:
the by-places of Elizabethan Literature present most vivid pictures of
the companies of beggars, impostors, rogues and vagabonds. They were
the people whom the monks and nuns had fed without asking questions;
the folk who would not work; the people turned out of the monasteries;
ex-friars; ex-chantry priests; former makers of images, crucifixes,
beads, candlesticks and the rest: these were the people who felt most
bitterly the abolition of indiscriminate charity and the cruel choice
offered them under the new order of work; mendicancy with the whip, or
crime with the gallows.

Out of all these evils and sufferings was born, like a sweet flower on
a heap of rubbish, the Spirit of modern Charity.

The Church had taken over to herself the whole of Mediæval charity. Did
a citizen desire to help the poor, he gave money for the purpose to the
Church. If a poor man wanted help, it was not to a merchant that he
went, but to a monastery.

For charity, that is, for pity, for almsgiving, the world has always
felt the most profound respect. The most popular of mediæval saints was
the hard and austere Bishop of whom the world remembered that he had
once divided his cloak with a beggar. There were six churches dedicated
to St. Martin in the City of London alone.

And when the friars first came over, and men, wondering, saw that they
did not lock themselves up in their cloister to pray for the world
like the other Religious, but that they went about among the people
ministering, comforting, preaching, consoling; that they found no den
too revolting, no disease too loathsome, no criminal too base, for
their ministrations; then, indeed, there was an outburst of gratitude,
of joy, of respect, of awe for men so saintly. They were considered the
veritable children of God.

But it was not to be thought that the poor sinners outside the
monastery should imitate their example. Nay, St. Francis, their
founder, had himself separated his Order from the world, they were
called out from the rest of humanity, they were kept separate by
vows of celibacy, poverty, obedience. Modern charity as yet did not
exist, as we now understand it, only the respect for charity as an
ecclesiastical institution.

I believe that the early followers of St. Francis perceived the weak
point of this separation from the world. We can hear one wiser than
the rest saying, “There is danger that the early zeal may decline. All
things human have in them the germs of decay; if there comes a time
when our brethren shrink from the task they have undertaken, if their
vows become a sham, their prayers a form, their work a pretence and
a profession, then it would have been better for the world had St.
Francis never existed, because we shall have taken from the layman the
duty of personal service and killed it by our own neglect.”

To meet this danger, not to take renunciation and self-sacrifice wholly
out of the world, they created another Order, that called the _Fratres
de Saccâ_. This Order contained men and women of the world, married
men and married women; they were allowed to go about their daily work;
those who were single were not forbidden to marry; they took vows, but
not those of celibacy nor of poverty.

When the Houses were suppressed, all the institutions which they had
supported were suppressed as well. Yet it did not immediately occur
to the people that the burden of the poor, which they had long since
willingly laid upon the Church, was now laid upon themselves. When
the City took over the House of the Grey Friars; the House of St.
Bartholomew; the House of St. Mary Bethlehem; the Palace of Bridewell;
the House of St. Thomas,—it seemed to take the place of the Church
and to attempt, by way of taxation, all that the Monastic Houses had
tried, or professed, to do from their own resources. We hear of sundry
collections for the poor; we do not hear of work among the poor, or of
responsibility for the poor, for a hundred years and more after the
Reformation.

I am not, happily, called upon in this place to attack, or to defend,
the Dissolution. I have only to consider its effect upon London. And
as regards the London Houses, I repeat, I can find no scandals. The
judgment of the people, though that was not asked or regarded, seems to
have arrived at a very clear understanding as to the actual spiritual
value, apart from any pretension or profession, of the life of
seclusion and celibacy. It was a very low estimate. On the other hand,
the City does not seem to have been openly hostile to the Religious.
They were an institution; these holy men were their own kin; the
Monastic Houses were a part of the daily life.

There were violent things published against monks and friars at this
time, but they were written by vehement partisans and were forced
upon the people. For example, the work of Barnabe Googe with his
_Popish Kingdom_. Had there been any active hatred against them it
would have shown itself by the acts and deeds of the ’prentices, who
always reflected, roughly but surely, the direction of the current of
contemporary opinion. Such slight indications of feeling on the subject
as are afforded by the literature in the next generation point to
reverence as regards the nuns; while as regards monks and friars they
are clean forgotten—a sure sign that they were not very actively hated.
At the same time it does seem most remarkable that the treatment of
the Carthusians, who must have been regarded as innocent victims and
martyrs, unless they were represented as political traitors, should not
have excited any popular indignation. One can only suppose that the
spectacle of a prisoner drawn on a hurdle, hanged, and quartered, was
so familiar, that people hardly troubled to ask who the sufferer was,
or for what crime he suffered.

Let us now pass on to speak of certain Martyrs and Confessors. It is by
this time needless to point out that the constancy shown by a Ridley
and a Latimer for the Protestant form of doctrine was fully equalled
by that of those who passed through the way of fire for the ancient
faith. There was, however, this difference, that the Catholic martyrs
were monks, priests, and men of mark like Fisher and More, while the
Protestants included a vast number of men and women from the lower
ranks—from the uneducated, who yet dared to hold a belief of their own
based, as they thought, on private judgment,—really on the training of
the sermons that they had heard.

[Illustration: Twenty two PROTESTANTS _taken into Custody on account
of their Religion and brought in one Band with Cords round their Arms,
from Colchester to London, by order of Bloody Queen Mary_.]

The case of Dr. Forest, Confessor to Queen Katherine, must not be
forgotten when one speaks of the martyrs of this time. Forest, an
old man, was committed to gaol, where he lay for two years among the
common malefactors, because he refused to acknowledge the supremacy of
the King. After two years of Newgate, two years in a close, stifling,
and noisome prison, the venerable priest was informed that he was to
be hanged over a fire and so slowly done to death. No more terrible
form of death was known in England, where the horrors of the French
and German capital punishments were never practised. It was the same
punishment as had been meted out to Oldcastle, and it was inflicted
on Forest for the same reason: to show the hatred and abhorrence of
the judges for the doctrines he taught. When the unfortunate Katherine
heard of the sentence she wrote to him. The letter, too long for
reproduction in these pages, together with Forest’s reply, may be found
in _The Antiquities of the English Franciscans_: they are probably
genuine and are very pitiful. The Queen, however, was spared the misery
of hearing of her Confessor’s torturing death: he was respited and
continued to lie in prison. Two years after the Queen’s death, and when
he had been confined in Newgate for four years, Forest was brought out
for execution.

[Illustration: HUGH LATIMER (1485(?)-1555)

From the painting in the National Portrait Gallery, London.]

On the 22nd of May 1518 they placed the old man on a sledge and dragged
him from Newgate to Smithfield, where he was hung in chains from a
gallows over a fire. This was the most terrible of all deaths. In
ordinary cases, the sufferer, bound to a thick stake with iron chains,
was enclosed up to the middle, and perhaps higher, with dry faggots: it
would seem that the fierce flames enveloping the victim caused death by
suffocation in a very few moments. Latimer, for instance, died in this
manner almost immediately; if, however, the flames were blown away, the
lower parts of the body might be slowly burned before death ensued:
this was the case with Ridley. When, however, the sufferer was simply
dangled over a fire, the flames blown this way and that, the agony
might last for hours.

In the case of Forest, the bystanders took pity on the old man and
threw the gallows into the fire, so that an end was soon made. “In
what state,” asked Latimer before the fire was lit, “will you die?”
Whereupon the old man replied in a loud voice: “If an angel should
come down from heaven to teach men any other doctrine than what I have
received and believed from my youth, I would not believe him; and if
my body should be cut joint after joint, member after member, hanged,
burned, or whatever pain might be done to me, yet would I never turn
from my old profession.” A brave old man!

[Illustration: BISHOP RIDLEY (1500(?)-1555)

From the painting in the National Portrait Gallery, London]

After the Carthusians the principal sufferers seem to have been the
Observant Friars, of whom a large number suffered for refusing to
acknowledge the King’s supremacy. We may read in the _Antiquities of
the English Franciscans_ a great many stories of these sufferings. One
hopes that there is exaggeration. For some, according to this book,
were carried about the country in chains; some were racked and then
strangled; some were starved to death; miracles attended the death of
some: the whole prison, in one case, became filled with a heavenly and
miraculous light; and an earthquake, in another case, testified to the
Divine displeasure at another martyrdom.

On the 22nd day of June 1534, three days after the execution of the
three Carthusians, Exmew, Middlemore, and Newdigate, was beheaded that
illustrious Catholic martyr, John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, for
maintaining the Pope’s supremacy; and a fortnight later, that still
more illustrious martyr, Thomas More. The witty and pleasant manner of
his conversation was kept up to the last. Grafton thus speaks of his
last moments:—

  “Besides his learning he had a great wit, and in talking verie
  pleasant and merie conceited, and that even to the last hower;
  insomuch that at hys comming to the Tower, one of the officers
  demanded his upper garment for his fee (meaning hys Gowne) and
  he aunswered, he should haue it, and toke him his cap, saying it
  was the uppermost garment that he had. Likewise even going to his
  death at the Tower gate a pore woman called to him and besought
  him to declare that he had certayn evidence of hers in the time
  that he was in office (which after he was apprehended she could
  not come by) and that he would intreat she might have them agayne,
  or else she was undone. He aunswered good woman have pacience a
  little while, for the King is so good unto me that even within
  this half houre he will discharge me of all businesses, and help
  thee himselfe. Also when he went up the stayres on the Scaffolde,
  he desired one of the Shriefes officers to give him his hand to
  help him up, and sayde, when I come downe agayne, let me shift for
  myself as well as I can. Also the hangman kneeled downe to him
  asking him forgivenesse of his death (as the manner is) to whome he
  sayde I forgive thee, but I promise thee that thou shalt never have
  honestie of the stryking of my head, my neck is so short. Also even
  when he should lay downe his head on the block, he having a great
  gray beard, striked out his beard and sayde to the hangman, I pray
  you let me lay my beard over the block least ye should cut it.”
  (_Chronicle of England_, Grafton, vol. ii. p. 454.)

The martyrdom of the Carthusians was the most significant, the most
revengeful, the most audacious act of the new Head of the Church, the
Act by which he defied, once for all, the whole power of the Pope, of
Spain, and even of France. The world trembled, people looked for some
supernatural manifestation, some unmistakable sign of the Divine wrath:
none came, and they understood that here was an act of open war, and
that the Divine will as to the issue had not been pronounced.

Let us pass to the Marian Persecution. I have called attention to the
fact that the greater number of the martyrs belonged to the middle
class and to the rank or status of craftsmen. Thus, Christopher Wade
was a linen weaver; Thomas Wats a linen draper; John Warren was an
upholsterer; John Ardeley was a husbandman; Robert Bromley was a
grocer; Thomas Ormond was a fuller; Williams a weaver; Margery Polley
widow of a craftsman; Dirick Carver a brewer; John Laneden a rustic;
John Tudson an artificer; Joan Warne a maidservant. There were wives
and widows among them, “simple women,” artificers and ’prentices,
maid-servants and girls.

[Illustration: THOMAS CRANMER (1489–1556)

From the portrait in Jesus College, Cambridge. A. Rischgitz’
Collection.]

It was the sight of their own people suffering a cruel death which made
the name of Rome hateful and horrible for three hundred years and more.
It was the sight of the constancy of the martyrs which laid the firm
foundations of the Protestant Faith. For none of them flinched before
the flames, none of them feared the pains which the Lord God in His
mercy and wisdom had ordered them to endure for the sake of the Cause.
What was to be expected when a shoemaker such as John Noyes could die
triumphant and rejoicing?

  “On the next-day morning he was brought to the stake, where were
  ready against his coming the foresaid justice, master Thurston, one
  master Waller, then being under-sheriff, and master Thomas Lovel,
  being high-constable, as is before expressed; the which commanded
  men to make ready all things meet for that sinful purpose. Now the
  fire in most places of the street was put out, saving a smoke which
  was espied by the said Thomas Lovel proceeding from the top of a
  chimney, to which house the sheriff and Grannow his man went, and
  brake open the door, and thereby got fire, and brought the same to
  the place of execution. When John Noyes came to the place where
  he should be burnt, he kneeled down and said the 50th Psalm, with
  other prayers; and then they, making haste, bound him to the stake.
  And being bound, the said John Noyes said, ‘Fear not them that can
  kill the body, but fear him that can kill both body and soul, and
  cast it into everlasting fire.’

  When he saw his sister weeping, and making moan for him, he bade
  her that she should not weep for him, but weep for her sins.

  Then one Nicholas Cadman, a valiant champion in the Pope’s affairs,
  brought a faggot and set against him; and the said John Noyes took
  up the faggot and kissed it, and said, ‘Blessed be the time that
  ever I was born to come to this.’

  Then he delivered his Psalter to the under-sheriff, desiring him to
  be good to his wife and children, and to deliver to her that same
  book; and the sheriff promised him that he would, notwithstanding
  he never as yet performed his promise. Then the said John Noyes
  said to the people, ‘They say, they can make God of a piece of
  bread; believe them not!’

  Then said he, ‘Good people, bear witness that I do believe to be
  saved by the merits and passion of Jesus Christ, and not by mine
  own deeds.’ And so the fire was kindled, and burnt about him. Then
  he said, ‘Lord have mercy upon me! Christ have mercy upon me! Son
  of David have mercy upon me!’

  And so he yielded up his life. And when his body was burned, they
  made a pit to bury the coals and ashes, and amongst the same they
  found one of his feet that was unburnt, whole up to the ankle, with
  the hose on; and that they buried with the rest.”

Or, to take the case of Cicely Ormes. She was a very simple woman,
the wife of a worsted weaver who lived in Norwich. She was present at
the martyrdom of Simon Miller and Elizabeth Cooper, and there, being
affected with their constancy, she declared that she would pledge them
with the same cup from which they drank:—

  “She was burnt the 23d day of September, between seven and eight of
  the clock in the morning, the said two sheriffs being there, and of
  people to the number of two hundred. When she came to the stake,
  she kneeled down, and made her prayers to God; that being done, she
  rose up and said:—

  ‘Good people! I believe in God the Father, God the Son, and God the
  Holy Ghost, three persons and one God. This do I not, nor will I
  recant; but I recant utterly from the bottom of my heart the doings
  of the Pope of Rome, and all his popish priests and shavelings. I
  utterly refuse and never will have to do with them again, by God’s
  grace. And, good people! I would you should not report of me that
  I believe to be saved in that I offer myself here unto the death
  for the Lord’s cause, but I believe to be saved by the death and
  passion of Christ; and this my death is and shall be a witness of
  my faith unto you all here present. Good people! as many of you as
  believe as I believe, pray for me.’

  Then she came to the stake, and laid her hand on it, and said,
  ‘Welcome the cross of Christ.’ Which being done, she, looking on
  her hand, and seeing it blacked with the stake, wiped it upon her
  smock; for she was burnt at the same stake that Simon Miller and
  Elizabeth Cooper was burnt at. Then, after she had touched it with
  her hand, she came and kissed it, and said, ‘Welcome the sweet
  cross of Christ’; and so gave herself to be bound thereto. After
  the tormentors had kindled the fire to her, she said, ‘My soul doth
  magnify the Lord, and my spirit rejoiceth in God my Saviour.’ And
  in so saying, she set her hands together right against her breast,
  casting her eyes and head upward; and so stood, heaving up her
  hands by little and little, till the very sinews of her arms did
  brast in sonder, and then they fell. But she yielded her life unto
  the Lord as quietly as if she had been in a slumber, or as one
  feeling no pain; so wonderfully did the Lord work with her: His
  name therefore be praised for evermore.”

Remember that the example was not only an admonition to those who saw
her death: it was related by the spectators; it was spread through the
length and breadth of the land; it was written down by Foxe, in whose
hands it certainly lost nothing of eloquence or of dramatic effect,
and it has been read ever since by countless people. Not the martyrdom
of Cranmer, Ridley, Latimer and the rest of the bishops, priests
and scholars, so much as those of the “very simple” women, the plain
craftsmen, built up the Protestant Faith, scattered the Spanish Fleets,
and changed the Englishman of the sixteenth century, so that he of the
seventeenth became possible.

[Illustration: The burning of M. Iohn Rogers, vicar of Saint Pulchers,
and Reader of Paules in London.]

The bare list of burnings in London alone, not nearly complete, as
enumerated by Henry Machyn in his _Diary_ (1550–1563), conveys a sense
of the overwhelming horror which filled England during this reign,
perhaps clearer than a laboured treatise on the Lives and Deaths of
the Martyrs. In reading the list we can see the crowds flocking to
Smithfield: all their sympathies are with the sufferer; they see him
dragged on his hurdle, undressed to the shirt and tied to the stake;
they see that he flinches not nor offers to retract; the faggots are
piled about him, Heaven grant they be of dry wood; from the flames and
through the smoke they hear the voice of the martyr praising God and
praying till the end comes, when his tongue swells up in his mouth and
he can speak no more, or is suffocated with the smoke, or with the
intensity of his agony his heart stops and merciful Death seizes him.
Then the crowd go home again; they dare not speak to each other; but
they remember.

  “1555. The iiij day of Feybruary the bysshope of London went into
  Nugatt and odur docturs to dysgratt (degrade) Hoper, and Rogers
  sumtyme vycker of sant Polkers. The sam day was Rogers cared
  be-twyn x and xj of the cloke into Smythfeld and bornyd, for
  aronyus opinions, with a grett compene of the gard.

  1555. The xvj day of Marche was a veyver (weaver) bornyd in
  Smyth-feld dwellynge in Sordyche, for herese, by viij of the cloke
  in the mornyng, ys nam was Tomkins.

  1555. The xiiij day of Aprell, the wyche was Ester day at sant
  Margatt parryche at Westmynster after masse was done, one of
  the menysters, a prest of the abbay, dyd helpe hym that was the
  menyster to the pepull who wher reseyvyng of the blessyd sacrement
  of the Lord Jhesus Cryst, ther cam in-to the chyrche a man that
  was a monke of Elly, the wyche was marryed to a wyff: the sam day
  ther that sam man saud to the menyster, What doyst thow gyff them?
  and as sone as he had spokyn he druw his wod-knyffe, and hyt the
  prest on the hed and struck hym on the hand, and cloyffe ys hand a
  grett way and after on the harme a grett wond; and ther was syche
  a cry and showtt as has not byne; and after he was taken and cared
  to presun, and after examyned wher-for he dyd ytt. The xxiij day
  of Aprell was the sam man cared to Westmynster that dyd hurt the
  prest, and had ys hand stryken of at the post, and after he was
  bornyd aganst sant Margett chyrche with-owt the cherche-yerde.

  1555. The sam day of May was arraigned iiij men at Powlles a-for
  none and after-non, of Essex, and thay wher cast for heresse and
  all iiij cast to be bornyd and so cared unto Nugat.

  1555. The xxv day of May were arraigned at St. Paul’s for heresy,
  before the bishop, master Cardmaker sometime vicar of St. Bride’s
  in Fleet-street, and one John Warren a cloth-worker in Walbrook and
  a-nodur of ... and cast to be brent and carried back to Nugatt.

  1555. The xxx day of May was burnt in Smythfeld master Cardmaker
  sum-tyme veker of sant Bryd, and master Varren clothworker,
  dwellyng aganst sant John in Walbroke, an hupholster, and ys wyff
  behyng in [Newgate].

  1555. The x day of Juin was delevered owt of Nugatt vij men to be
  cared into Essex and Suffoke to borne.

  1555. The furst day of July whent into Smythfield to borne master
  Bradford, a grett precher by Kyng Edward’s days, and a talow
  chandler’s prentice dwellyng by Nugatt, by viij of the cloke in the
  mornyng, with a grett compene of pepull.

  1555. The viij day of July were three more delivered out of Nugate
  and sent into the country to be burned for heretics.

  1555. The xij day of July was bornyd y Canturbery iiij men for
  herese, ij prestes and ij laye men.

  1555. The ij day of August was a shumaker bornyd ay sant Edmundbere
  in Suffoke for herese.

  1555. The viij day of August, between iiij and v in the morning,
  was a presoner delevered into the shreyff of Medyllsex to be cared
  unto Uxbryge to be bornyd; yt was the markett day—owt of Nugatt
  delevered.

  1555. The xxiij day of August was bornyd ay Stratford of bowe, in
  the conte of Mydyllsex, a woman, wife of John Waren, clothworker, a
  huphulster over against sant Johns in Walbroke; the whyche ... John
  her hosband was bornyd with on Cardmaker in Smythfield for herese
  boyth; and the sam woman had a sune taken at her bornyng and cared
  to Nugatt to his syster, for they will born boyth.

  1555. The xxxj day of August whent out of Nugatt a man of Essex
  unto Barnett for herese, by the shreyff of Medyllsex, to borne ther.

  1555. The same day were burnt at Oxford for heresy doctor Latimer,
  late Bishop of Worcester, and doctor Ridley, late bysshope of
  London; they were some tyme grett prychers as ever was; and at ther
  bornyng dyd pryche doctur Smyth, sumtyme the master of Vetyngtun
  colege.

  1555. The xviij day of Dessember be-twyn 8 & 9 of the cloke in the
  mornyng was cared into Smythfeld to be bornyd on master Philpot,
  archdeacon of Winchester, gentyllman, for herese.

[Illustration: The description of Doctour Cranmer, howe he was plucked
downe from the stage, by Friers and Papists, for the true Confession of
hys Faith.]

[Illustration: The burning of the Archbishop of Canturbury, Doctor
Thomas _Cranmer, in the Towne-ditch at Oxford, with his hand first
thrust into the_ fire, wherewith he subscribed before.]

  1556. The xxij day of January whent into Smythfeld to berne betwyn
  vij and viij in the mornyng v men and ij women; on of the men was a
  gentyllman of the ender tempull, ys nam master Gren; and they wer
  all bornyd by ix at iij postes; and ther wher a commonment thrughe
  London over nyght that no yong folke shuld come ther, for ther the
  grettest number was as has byne sene at shyche a tyme.

  1556. The xxj day of Marche was bornyd at Oxford doctur Cranmer,
  late archebysshope of Canturbere.

  1556. The xv day of May was cared in a care from Nugatt thrug
  London unto Strettford-a-bow to borne ij men; the on blyne, the
  thodur lame; and ij tall men, the one was a penter, the thodur
  a clothworker; the penter ys nam was Huw Loveroke, dwellyng in
  Seythin lane; the blynd man dwellyng in sant Thomas apostylles.

  1556. The xxvij day of June rod from Nugatt unto Stretford-a-bowe
  in iiij cares xiij, xj men and ij women, and ther bornyd to iiij
  postes, and ther wher a xx M. pepull.

  1557. The iij day of April five persons out of Essex were condemned
  for herese, iij men and ij women (one woman with a staff in her
  hand), to be bornyd in Smythfeld.

  1557. The vj day of Aprell was bornyd in Smythfeld v, iij men and
  im women, for herese; on was a barber dwellyng in Lym-strett; and
  on woman was the wyff of the Crane at the Crussyd-frers be-syd the
  Towre-hylle, kepyng of a in ther.

  1557. The xiiij day of May was bornyd in Chepe-syd and odur places
  in London serten melle that was not sweet; and thay sayd that hey
  had putt in lyme and sand to deseyffe the pepull and he was had to
  the conter.

  1557. The sam mornyng was bornyd be-yond sant George’s parryche iij
  men for heresee, a dyssyd Nuwhyngtun.

  1557. The xviij day of June was ij cared to be bornyd beyonde sant
  Gorgeus, almost at Nuwhyngtyn for herese and odur matters.

  1557. The xxij day of December were burned in Smyth-feld ij, one
  ser John Ruffe the frere and a Skott, and a woman for herese.”
  (_Diary of Henry Machyn._)




                              CHAPTER II

                    THE PROGRESS OF THE REFORMATION


The question as to the proportion of Protestants to Catholics at the
accession of Elizabeth, and at her death, has received various answers,
depending upon the religion of the respondent. Lingard, the fairest
of all the Catholic writers, estimates the number of Catholics at
one-half the whole population. This was thirty years before Elizabeth’s
accession. Dr. Allen thought they were two-thirds (Strype, iii. 415).
A great many of the better class were Catholics. Venner (1649) says
that fifty years before, all physicians were Catholics. This may have
been caused by study in Italian schools of medicine. A good many people
in London attended mass at some Ambassador’s chapel. The Spaniards
when the Armada was projected relied upon the opinion that the half
of England would join them. The North of England was filled with
Catholics, yet they did not join the Rebellion of 1569. One-fourth of
the population of Cheshire were Catholics; on the other hand, there is
testimony to the effect that the number of Catholics had enormously
decreased in the first thirty years of Elizabeth’s reign. In 1569 there
were in London twelve to fifteen places where mass was regularly said.
In 1594 a Jesuit speaks of the “little sparkle of Catholic religion
yet reserved amongst us” as soon to be extinguished. The common-sense
view of the case seems to be this. The people of London who, as we have
seen, were filled with Lollardry from the beginning of the fifteenth
century; who welcomed the Dissolution of the Religious Houses; who
rejoiced at such a shadow of free thought as Henry afforded them; who
shuddered with horror at the flames of Smithfield;—were overjoyed at
the return of the Protestant Faith. But it would be wrong to suppose
that all the scholars, all who had lived among the better-class priests
and friars, went over to the new Faith; they did not: a large number of
gentlewomen remained steadfast; the Government showed its good sense
by taking no notice, or as little as possible, of recusants. Burleigh
advised against punishing these people by death; best not make martyrs;
there was no true method of lessening their numbers “but by preaching
and by education of the younger under good schoolmasters.”

In a word, if it is intended to make any form of faith decay, there is
no need of persecution: it has only to be surrounded by disabilities.
If a Roman Catholic could hold no municipal office, and no State
office, could not enter a grammar school or the university, could not
take a degree, could not become a lawyer, could not sit in either
House, could not serve in the army or the navy, then the Roman Catholic
religion would fall rapidly into decay. This is exactly what happened;
at the present moment, though all disabilities have been removed, the
proportion of Catholics in England and Scotland is certainly not more
than one in twenty. The “old” Catholics were those wealthy families
which could continue in spite of all disabilities, a few noble houses
and a few county people. Similar results attended the disabilities of
the Nonconformists. Dissent survived its disabilities among people who
cared nothing for office, people at the lower end of society, people
for the most part of small trade. Among the better class, Dissent lost
ground and mostly disappeared till the abolition of disabilities.

It is commonly believed that in the parish churches there was but one
step from the mass to the Reformed service. This was not so (see an
article by Mr. T. T. Micklethwaite on “Parish Churches in the year
1548,” _Arch. Journ._ xxxv.). The Dissolution of the Religious Houses
made at first very little difference in the churches. The guilds were
suppressed, and therefore the lights which they kept up; the endowed
lights were also suppressed; but people went on endowing new lights
for the parish churches. In the year 1547 certain rules or injunctions
were issued which commanded that all images which had been made the
object of pilgrimage should be destroyed; that no lights should be set
up before any picture except two wax tapers on the altar, and these
because Christ is the Light of the World. Images which had not been
abused were to remain “for remembrance only.” The English Bible and
the Paraphrases of Erasmus on the Gospel were to be set up in every
church where the people could have access to them. Shrines, pictures of
miracles, and glass depicting miracles, were to be destroyed; a pulpit
was to be provided, and an alms chest to be placed by the altar.

As regards the services, changes were gradual. The High Mass continued,
but the Gospel and Epistle were read in English, and a chapter from the
New Testament was read after lessons at Matins and after Magnificat
at Evensong. The English Litany was sung after High Mass. The Pater
Noster, Creed, and Ten Commandments were sometimes publicly rehearsed
in English, and Communion was refused to those who did not know them.

In the year 1548 the “Order of Communion” was put forth; in 1549 the
Prayer Book appeared. Mr. Micklethwaite has drawn up an account of
the parish church of 1548 before the Reformed Prayer Book, and with
the alterations made in the service up to that date. The principal
entrance was by the south door; in the porch was a basin of holy water;
the font stood sometimes in the middle of the nave, sometimes against
the west side of one of the pillars; it had a cover which could be
locked down. Near it was a locker in which were kept the oils, salt,
etc., required for the old rite of baptism.

  “At the beginning of the sixteenth century all but very poor parish
  churches seem to have been furnished with pews, but the whole area
  was not filled with them, as at a later date. Old pews west of the
  doors are very rare, but they are found sometimes, as at Brington,
  Northants. Generally all this space was left clear, and there
  was a clear area of at least one bay, and often much more at the
  west end. A church with aisles had nearly always four blocks of
  pews, and the passages were broad alleys, that in the middle being
  often more than a third of the width of the nave, and the side
  passages were not much less. The appropriation of special places
  to individuals seems to have been usual, and even that bugbear of
  modern ecclesiastical reformers, the lock-up pew or closet, was not
  unknown. These in parish churches were generally chantry chapels,
  arranged for private services at their own altars and for use as
  pews during the public services.”

The pulpit had no fixed position: it was made movable; one of that
period still remains at Westminster. It was ordered in 1547 that the
priests and choir should kneel in the midst of the church and sing
or say the Litany; the Litany desk came into use afterwards. The
confessional had been continued in certain London churches: at St.
Margaret Patens there was the “shrivyng pew”; at St. Christopher le
Stock the “Shriving House.” The usual custom was for the penitent to
kneel or stand before the priest, who sat in a chair. The Bible and the
Paraphrases of Erasmus were chained to a desk somewhere in the nave.

The Rood screen, which was a music gallery, carried a loft and the
organ when there was one. The loft contained desks for singers; it was
also provided with pricks for candles. The great cross rose above the
loft. In the chancel stood the high altar; when there were no aisles
two smaller altars stood one on either side. Above the altar was a
reredos of carved work; at the ends of which hung curtains. There
was generally a super altar. On the high altar stood the cross, with
figures, reliquaries, and images to adorn it. Also they laid on the
altar the Textus or Book of the Gospels, with the paxbrede or tablet
for the kiss of peace. There were generally two lights on the altar.

  “It is convenient to mention here the other lights, which were kept
  in 1548, by the retention of the ceremonies with which they were
  connected. These were the two tapers carried by boys in processions
  at High Mass, and at other services when solemnly performed; the
  herse light, used at Matins or Tenebres on the last three days of
  Holy Week; the paschal candle, which stood in a tall candlestick,
  or hung in a bason on the north side of the high altar, and was
  lighted with much ceremony on Easter Eve, and burned at all the
  principal services throughout Paschal tide; the torches carried in
  the procession on Corpus Christi Day; the lantern carried before
  the Sacrament when it was taken to the sick; the large standing
  tapers which were placed round a corpse during the funeral service;
  and the candle used at baptism. Most of the lights, which a little
  earlier had been common round tombs, were endowed, and as such had
  been taken away, but the custom of survivors placing lights round
  the graves of their departed friends would probably be continued
  still for a few years.”

Chapels were the most usual places for tombs, but they are found in
every part of the church. The various forms of them are too familiar
to require description, but the use of colour gave them much more
decorative importance in an interior than they have now. Many were
painted, and others were covered with rich cloths. Flat gravestones
had often carpets laid over them, and raised tombs had palls of
cloth of gold or other costly stuff. The church of Dunstable still
possesses such a pall: it is of crimson velvet, richly embroidered.
Tapestries and cloths of various kinds were very much used, especially
in chancels, as curtains and carpets, and as coverings for seats and
desks and the like. Every church also had special hangings for Lent,
when images and pictures were covered up generally with white or
blue cloths, marked with crosses and the emblems of the Passion. The
Lenten veil between the choir and the high altar seems also to have
been retained in 1547, but in 1548 Cranmer and his party had partly
succeeded in doing away with it. All parts of the church were more or
less adorned with imagery and pictures on walls, in windows, or on
furniture. None had been ordered to be taken away except such as had
been superstitiously abused, or which were representations of “feigned
miracles.”

  “When the priest took the Sacrament to the sick he was accompanied
  by clerks, who carried a cross, bell, and light. The Sacrament
  itself was enclosed in a pyx, and with it was taken a cup in which
  the priest dipped his fingers after giving the communion. The
  chrismatory was generally a little box of metal containing three
  little bottles for the three oils, which seem generally to have
  been kept together. For use at funerals, every church had a cross,
  a bier, and a handbell, the last being a good-sized bell which was
  rung before the corpse as it was being carried to the church. It
  was also used for ‘crying’ obits about the parish, and asking for
  prayers for the deceased. Some churches had what was called the
  common coffin, which was used to carry bodies to the church, the
  most general custom being to bury without coffin. And they had
  palls and torches for funerals, for the use of which a charge was
  made according to the quality of the pall and the ‘waste’ of the
  torches. At weddings it was the custom to hold a large square cloth
  of silk or other material, called the care cloth, over the heads
  of the bride and bridegroom whilst they received the benediction,
  and it was kept for that use amongst the church goods. At St.
  Margaret’s, Westminster, we find also a crown or circlet for
  brides, which appears to have been a thing of some value.”

It will be seen from these quotations that the parish church contained
in essentials the whole of the Catholic ritual except the parts which
were ordered to be read in English. At the same time by reading, by
hearing sermons, by the newly awakened spirit of examination and
discussion, the people were preparing for more drastic changes. When
they came there was no violent revolution, and though many remained
faithful to the old creed, the bulk of the people in London were
Protestant at heart. The weak point of the Reformation was that as yet
no one was sure that it was stable and assured. Nor was there any such
assurance till the defeat of the Spanish Armada and fifty years of the
Maiden Queen had turned Protestantism into patriotism.

It is apparent (see _Archæologia_, vol. xlv.) that the ancient
vestments were worn in some of the churches after the Reformation,
until they fell to pieces. At the church of St. Christopher le Stock
they were worn until the third year of Elizabeth, when being worn out,
and no funds existing to replace them, the simple surplice was used.
Twelve tables hung on the wall of the church: one containing the Ten
Commandments; eleven containing prayers to the saints. The Reformers,
therefore, did not introduce a new thing when they hung up the Table of
the Commandments.

[Illustration:

_S. B. Bolas & Co., London._

TOMB OF QUEEN ELIZABETH IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY]

It used to be a custom in many City churches to ring the bell at 5
A.M.; not the “apprentice bell,” but a continuation and a survival of
the ancient practice to call the people to the early service. Thus, at
St. Margaret’s, Lothbury, in 1573, it was “resolved that after every
workday we shall have morning prayer at five o’clock; also to have
a lecture every Wednesday and Friday, beginning at five o’clock and
ending at six o’clock, the bell to toll half an hour after five every
afternoon.” The books show a good deal of whipping of men and women.
They were chiefly wanderers, tramps, and their great offence was in
carrying the plague about the country.

The services of the church could be made Lutheran in their character
or Puritanic. The great difference was in the manner of singing. The
Puritans sang in a plain tune all together; the Protestants “tossed”
the Psalms from one side to the other with music of the organ.
Congregational singing was one of the most important changes introduced
by the Reformation. In September 1559 the new morning prayer “after
Geneva fashion” was introduced at St. Antholin’s, the bell ringing at 5
A.M.

There were still some processions kept up. On St. Andrew’s Day a
procession was conducted at St. Paul’s with one priest out of every
parish in the City, and on the 25th of September the boys of St.
Anthony’s school marched together from Mile End down Cornhill with
streamers and flags, whifflers and drums.

In the church of St. Christopher le Stock we find that certain old
customs were preserved: the church was decorated at Christmas with
holly and ivy; at Easter with “rosemary, bay, and strawings.”

The parish system seems to have been well worked; the streets were kept
clean; evildoers were not allowed to harbour within the limits; taxes
were collected; the sick were watched and tended.

The efforts of the more sober leaders were directed to change, it
is true, but to gradual not revolutionary change. The restraint
of the zealous, however, was in some churches very difficult;
certain quarters of the City were far more Protestant than others:
Blackfriars, for instance, became an early centre of Puritanism; at St.
Martin’s-in-the-Fields, on the other hand, we find the church-wardens
quietly obeying every new ordinance, but keeping the old things in
boxes ready for a possible return to the old order. The Dissolution
of the Houses brought with it certain unexpected accompaniments. The
servants of the Commissioners took away the sacred vestments and
used them either for their own common wear or for saddlecloths, thus
inflicting wanton insults on the faithful and bringing into contempt,
with the desecration of the vestments, the very doctrines of which
they were symbolical. Again, there were the relics and the images
which the people had so long adored; it is true that the Church would
not acknowledge the adoration of an image, but that was the practice
of the common people, as it is at this day in every Roman Catholic
Church. Thus sacred objects came to be treated with the utmost scorn:
reliquaries were emptied and the relics thrown away; images of the
Virgin were deprived of their lovely vestments, and sent about the
country, shapeless lumps of wood, or brought to London to be publicly
burned. In some cases an ancient and venerable fraud was discovered
and pitilessly exposed. Who could resist contempt for the priests and
monks who had for many generations of simple believers made the head on
the Holy Rood of Boxley incline benignantly and roll its eyes upon the
kneeling multitude? With all these aids to disbelief who can wonder
if the wave of Protestant indignation mounted steadily higher; if the
fiery spirit of Reform seized upon town and country, upon the sober
merchant and the hot-headed ’prentice? We hear of the young men reading
the Bible aloud in the churches, shouting the words they read; of girls
who carried the English Primer with them to church and studied it
during the singing of Matins; of men who insulted the Consecration of
the Host; who attacked the priest who carried it through the streets.
It is certain that London itself, almost from the beginning, was for
the Reformation. (_See_ Appendix V.)

[Illustration:

                 POPISH PLOTS
                     AND
                   TREASONS

  _From the beginning of the Reign of Queen_ Elizabeth.
  _Illustrated with Emblems and explain’d in Verse._

                  _Figure 1._

  The _Pope_ aloft on Armed Shoulders Rides,
  And in vain Hopes the English spoils divides;
  His _Leaden Bull_ ’gainst good _Eliza_, roares,
  And Scatters dire Rebellion round our Shoars.
  The Priest _Blesses_ the Villians, Chears them on,
  And promises Heav’ns Crown, when her Crown’s won.
    But God doth blast their Troops, their Counsels mock
    And brings bold Traitors to th’ deserved _Block_.

                  _Figure 2._

  _Don John_, who under Spain did with proud Hand
  The then unsever’d _Neitherlands_ Command,
  Contrives for Englands Conquest, and does Hope
  To Gain it by Donation from the Pope.
  Yet to Amuse our Queen does still pretend
  _Perpetual peace_, and needs will seem a friend;
    But Heav’n looks through those Juggles and in’s prime,
    Grief Cuts off Him and’s Hopes All at a time.

                  _Figure 3._

  Spains _King_, and _Romes_ Triple-Crown’d Pelate Joyn,
  And with them both bold _Stukely_ does Combine
  _Ireland_ to conquer, And the Pope has sent,
  For that Blest work, an _Holy Regiment_;
  But in their way at _Barbary_ they call,
  Where at one Blow the _Moors_ destroy them All,
    See here, what such Ambitious Traitors Gain,
    The shame of Christians is by _Pagans_ Slain.

                  _Figure 4._

  The Priests, with _Crosses_ Ensigne-like displaid,
  Prompt bloody _Desmond_ to those spoiles he made
  On Irish Protestants, and from afar
  Blow Triumphs to Rebellions Holy War;
  But against Providence all Arts are vain,
  The Crafty, in their Craft are over-tane;
    Behold where _kill’d_ the Stubborn _Traitor_ lies,
    Whilst to the _Woods_ his _Ghostly Father_ flies.

                  _Figure 5._

  What trusty Janizaries are Monks to _Rome_.
  From their dark Cells the blackest Treasons come.
  By the Popes License horrid Crimes they Act,
  And Guild with piety each Treacherous Fact.
  A seminary Priest, like Comets Blaze,
  Doth always Blood-shed and Rebellion Raise,
    But still the fatal Gibbet’s ready fixt
    For such, where Treason’s with Religion mixt.

                  _Figure 6._

  Mad _Sommervil_, by Cruel Priests inspir’d
  To do whatever mischiefe they requir’d,
  Swears that he instantly will be the death
  Of good and Gracious Queen _Elizabeth_.
  Assaults her Guards, but Heav’ns protecting pow’r
  Defeats his rage makes him a Prisoner:
    Where to avoid a just, though shameful Death,
    Self-strangling hands do Stop his loathsome breath.

                  _Figure 7._

  Whilst _Spains_ Embassador here Leiger lies,
  Designs are laid the English to surprize;
  Two Catalogues his Secretary had Got
  The better two effect the Hellish Plot.
  One all our Havens Names, where Foes might Land,
  To’ther what Papists were to lend an hand.
    For this base Trick he’s forc’d to pack to _Spain_
    Whilst Tyrburn greets confederates that remain.

  _First are describ’d the Cursed plots they laid.
  And on the side their wretched ends displayd._

                  _Figure 8._

  View here a Miracle——A Priest Conveys,
  In Spanish Bottom o’re the path-less Seas,
  Close treacherous Notes, whilst a Dutch Ship comes by
  And streight Engag’d her well-known Enemy;
  The Conscious Priest his Guilty Papers tears,
  And over-board the scatter’d fragments bears;
    But the just winds do force them back o’th’ Decks,
    And peice-meal all the lurking plot detects.

  FOR CONTINUATION SEE BACK OF THE OTHER HALF OF THE ILLUSTRATION.]

[Illustration:

                _The Popes bull_

                   IN NOMINE
                     DOMINI
                 _incipit Omne
                     Malum_.
]

[Illustration:   _W. A. Mansell & Co._

“POPISH PLOTS AND TREASONS.”

For descriptions in rhyme see back.]

[Illustration: CONTINUED FROM BACK OF FIRST HALF OF ILLUSTRATION.

                  _Figure 9._

  The Jesuites vile Doctrines do Convince
  _Parry_ ’Tis Merit for to kill his Prince.
  The fatal Dagger he prepares with Art,
  And means to sheath it in her Royal Heart.
  Oft he attemps, and is as oft put by,
  By the Majestick Terrors of her Eye;
    At last his Cursed Intentions he Confest
    And So his welcom’d a fit Tyburn Guest;

                  _Figure 10._

  Here _Babington_ and all his desperate Band,
  Ready prepar’d for Royal Murder stand,
  His Motto seems to glory in the Deed,
  _These my Companions are whom dangers lead_.
  Cowardly Traitors, so many Combine
  To Cut off one poor Ladies vital Twine;
    In vain,—Heaven’s her Guard, and as for you;
    Behold, the Hangman gives you all your due.

                  _Figure 11._

  Nor was’t with _Spain_ alone, Great _Betty_’s Strife;
  Now _France_ attempts upon her pretious Life;
  The Guises cause th’ Ambassador to Bribe
  _Moody_, and others of the Roman Tribe,
  To Cut her off. To which they soon Consent
  But watchful Heav’n does that Guilt prevent.
    _Stafford_ doth to the Councel All disclose,
    And Home with shame perfidious _Mounsieur_ goes.

                  _Figure 12._

  _Spain’s_ proud _Armado_, whom the Pope did Bless,
  Attacques our Isle, Confident of success.
  But Heav’ns just Blast doth Scatter all their force,
  They fly and quite round _Scotland_ take their Course:
  So many taken, burnt, and Sunk i’th’ Main,
  Scarce one in Ten did e’re get home Again;
    Thus _England_ like _Noahs_ Ark, amidst the Waves
    Indulgent providence from Danger saves.

                  _Figure 13._

  And now a private horrid Treason veiw
  Hatcht by the Pope, the Devil, and a Jew
  _Lopez_ a Doctor must by Poison do
  What all their Plots have fail’d in hitherto
  _What will you give me then_; the _Judas_ Cries
  Full _fifty thousand Crowns_, t’other replies,
    Tis done—but hold, the wretch shall miss his hope,
    The Treasons known, and his Reward’s the Rope;

                  _Figure 14._

  The Great _Tyrone_ that did so oft embrew
  _Ireland_ with Blood, and Popish Plots Renew.
  Here vanquisht Swears upon his bended Knee
  To the Queens Deputy fidelity
  Yet breaks that vow, and loaded with the Guilt
  Of perjuries and Blood which he had spilt.
    Being forc’d at last to fly his Native Land,
    Carries in’s Breast a sting, a Scourge in’s _hand_.

                  _Figure 15._

  No Sooner _James_ had blest the English Throne,
  But Traiterous Priests Conspire to pull him down.
  _Watson_ the poisonous Maximes does Instill,
  And draws some Nobles to Join in the Ill:
  But Princes then appear the most divine,
  When they with unexpected Mercy Shine.
    Just as the Fatal Ax attempts the Stroke,
    Pardon steps in and does the Blow Revoke

                  _Figure 16._

  In this Curs’d Powder-plot we plainly see
  The Quintessence of Romish Cruelty
  King Lords and Commons at one Hellish Blast
  Had been destroy’d, and half our Land laid wast,
  See _Faux_ with his dark Lanthorn ready stands
  To Light the fatal Train with desperate hands,
    But Heavens All-seeing eye defeats their desire,
    And saves us as a Brand snatcht from the fire;

         •       •       •       •       •

  And now let us, with chearful Hymns of praise,
  And Hearts inflamed with love _an Altar_ raise
  Of Gratitude to God, who doth advance
  His out-streatcht Arm in our Deliverance,
  Tis only He, that doth protect his Sheep,
  Tis he alone doth this poor Island keep
  from Romish _Wolves_, which would us soon devour,
  If not Defended by his mighty power
  Tis he that doth our _Church_ with freedome Crown,
  And beats the Popish _Superstitions_ down
  Under her _feet_, and may they never rise,
  Nor in vile _Darkness_ Reinvolve our Eyes;
  Since Heaven whose mercies ever are most tender
  Hath both restor’d our _faith_ and Faiths _Defender_

         •       •       •       •       •

  Let us to both a strict Adherence pay,
  And for their _preservation_ ever pray.
    Since thus _Truths_ happy _Bark_ hath reach’d our shore,
    O may it _never, never_ Leaves us more.

  Sold by _John Garret_ at his Shop, at the _Exchange-Staires_
  in _Cornhill_ where you may have choice
  of all Sorts of Large and Small Maps: Drawing
  Books, Coppy books, and Pictures for Gentlewomens
  works; and also very good originals
  of French and Dutch Prints.
]

A pressing difficulty, in the opening years of Elizabeth, was the
illiterate and immoral condition of the clergy. So many refused the
oath of supremacy that it became necessary to create lay readers.
Indeed, the condition of England, including London, was calculated to
fill the minds of the most ardent Protestants with dismay. During the
first fifteen years of the reign, the House of Commons complained to
the Queen that men were ordained who were infamous in their lives and
conversation; the Bishop of London complained that even the Bishops
were “sunk and lamentably disvalued by the meanest of the peoples”; the
County of Essex represented that the new clergy were ignorant, riotous
and drunkards; the Lords in Council represented to the Archbishop of
Canterbury the evil lives of the clergy. Out of all the clergy in the
City of London there were but nineteen preachers. Yet in 1559 Elizabeth
ordered that there should be a sermon once a month on doctrine. And in
1586 the Bishop of London ordered the clergy to write one Sermon every
week. It is said that the clergy fell so low in esteem as to be treated
like outcasts, incurably drunken, ignorant, and licentious.

[Illustration: KNIGHT SEIZING AN ARCHBISHOP

From an illuminated MS. in British Museum.]

With the general charges against the Elizabethan Clergy it appears
unnecessary to bring forward specific acts which may very well be taken
to be isolated cases, in no way proving general corruption. There are,
however, a few which seem to show the general condition of things.

In 1562, a priest was carted through the City for saying mass.

In 1554 priests, who would not leave their wives, did penance in St.
Paul’s, and were beaten over the head with rods.

In 1561 the Queen, who never approved the marriage of priests, ordered
those who were married not to bring their wives into Colleges.

In the same year there were found to be many conjurors in Westminster
including priests, one of whom was put in pillory.

In 1557 the priest of St. Ethelburga was pilloried for sedition, and
had his ears nailed to the pillory.

In 1559 there was a great burning of copes, censers, crosses, altar
cloths, rood cloths, books, banners, etc.

In 1560 a priest was hanged for cutting a purse; it was his second
offence.

The priest who sold his wife to a butcher, and was carried through the
streets for an open shame, must hardly, one hopes, be quoted as an
example. We picture him as a drunken and dissolute hog, lost to all
sense of decency. The other priest who for an act of immorality was
also carried about the streets may have been more common. When all the
clergy married as a matter of course such scandals ceased.

As I have reproduced certain charges against the clergy and Religious
of the old Faith, it is but fair to give an example of the bad
character of one, at least, belonging to the clergy of the Reformation.
The following letter is addressed to the Lady Bowes:—

“Right Worshipfull,

I understand that one Raphe Cleaton ys curate of the chappell at
Buxton; his wages are, out of his neighbour’s benevolence, about V^{LI}
yearely; Sir Charles Cavendishe had the tythes there this last years,
ether of his owne right or my Lord’s, as th’ inhabitants saye. The
minister aforenamed differeth little from those of the worste sorte,
and hath dipt his finger both in manslaughter and p’jurie, etc. The
placings or displacing of the curate there resteth in Mr. Salker,
commissarie of Bakewell, of which churche Buxton is a chappell of ease.

I humbly thanke your Worship for your letter to the justices at the
cessions; for Sir Peter Fretchvell, togither with Mr. Bainbrigg,
were verie earnest against the badd vicar of Hope; and lykewyse Sir
Jermane Poole, and all the benche, savinge Justice Bentley, who used
some vaine (talk) on his behalfe, and affirmed that my Lady Bowes had
been disprooved before Mr. Lord of Shrowesburie in reports touching
the vicar of Hope; but such answere was made therto as his mouthe
was stopped; yet the latter daie, when all the justic’s but himselffe
and one other were rysen, he wold have had the said vicar lycensed to
sell ale in his vicaredge, althoe the whole benche had comanded the
contrarye; whereof Sir Jermane Poole being adv’tised, retyrned to the
benchs (contradicting his speeche) whoe, with Mr. Bainbrigge, made
their warrant to bringe before them, him, or anie other person that
shall, for him, or in his vicaridge, brue, or sell ale, etc. He ys not
to bee punished by the Justices for the multytude of his women, untyll
the basterds whereof he is the reputed father bee brought in. I am
the more boulde to wryte so longe of this sorrie matter, in respect
you maye take so much better knowledge of Sir Jo. Bentley, and his
p’tialytie in so vile a cause; and esteeme and judge of him according
to that wisdome and good discretion. Thus, humbly cravinge p’don, I
comitt your good Wors. to the everlasting Lorde, who ever keepe you.”
This is quoted by N. Drake in _Shakespeare and his Times_, vol. i. p.
92.

And here is Ben Jonson’s portrait of the City Parson—none too
flattering:—

    “He is the prelate of the parish here
    And governs all the dames, appoints the cheer,
    Writes down the bills of fare, pricks all the guests,
    Makes all the matches and the marriage feasts
    Within the Ward; draws all the parish wills,
    Designs the legacies, and strokes the gills
    Of the chief mourners; and, whoever lacks,
    Of all the kindred, he hath first his blacks.
    Thus holds he weddings up and burials,
    As his main tithing; with the gossips’ stalls,
    Their pews; he’s top still at the public mess;
    Comforts the widow and the fatherless,
    In funeral sack; sits ’bove the alderman;
    For of the wardmote quest, he better can
    The mystery than the Levitic law;
    That piece of clerkship doth his vestry awe.
    He is as he conceives himself, a fine,
    Well furnished, and apparelled divine.”

Harrison, however, speaks up for the credit of the Reformed Clergy.

The observance of Lent was maintained by law, but with difficulty, and
the law was continually broken. It was a distinguishing mark of the
Puritan to eat flesh on the forbidden days. Queen Elizabeth ordered
that no flesh should be eaten on “fish days,” namely, the forty days of
Lent, Ember Days, Rogation Days, and Fridays. Licenses, however, were
granted for those who either on account of bodily infirmity, or any
other cause, were forbidden to fast. The license cost, for a nobleman
or his wife, 26s. 8d. per annum; for a knight or his wife, 13s. 4d. per
annum; and for those of lower degree, 6s. 8d. per annum.

Thus began the evasion of the law. Butchers were licensed to kill for
those privileged to eat flesh. In 1581 the House of Lords call upon the
Mayor to explain why forty butchers are allowed to kill during Lent,
and how it is that the eating of flesh at that season is common in the
City. The Mayor replies that the facts are otherwise, and that the
number of licensed butchers is only five, viz. two for either Shambles
and one for Southwark.

In 1552 only three butchers are licensed. Evidently the Mayor tries
strong measures. But there are more complaints from the Lords.

In 1586 the House of Lords again send representations to the Mayor.

In 1587 the Mayor, evidently wishing to shift responsibility, says
that it is difficult to restrain butchers. Perhaps the House of Lords
will undertake the duty of licensing. The House of Lords declines to
undertake the work of the Mayor.

In 1590 the Mayor complains of butchers being licensed in privileged
places. What does this mean?

In 1591 he gives licenses to six butchers. He then finds out what we
have been suspecting all along, that cattle and sheep were killed
outside his jurisdiction, and that flesh was brought into the City by
the gates. He also proves that within the City itself a great deal more
meat is killed than was wanted for Shrovetide. Here we have a proof of
the Puritanic spirit. The unlicensed butchers, on the eve of Lent, kill
a great deal more than is wanted for Shrovetide; the licensed butchers
go on killing. Do they sell to none but persons who have paid for the
privilege? And every day carcases are brought in at the gates wrapped
up in some kind of cloth for disguise.

In 1615 the Mayor gives up the attempt. He says that all butchers kill
and sell meat in Lent, on Fridays, and that the people buy it freely on
Fridays and on the other forbidden days.

Still there is maintained the pretence of an enforced fast during Lent
until the Civil War, after which there are no more attempts to make
the people fast, while many of the better class, clergy and others,
continue to abstain from meat on the forbidden days.

There are grave complaints, both before and after the Reformation,
about the behaviour of the people in church. The complaints point to
two widely different causes. The first cause, that which operated
before the Reformation, was undoubtedly the formalism into which
religion had fallen. To be present at Mass, merely to be present, to
kneel at the right time, was the whole of religion. Sir Thomas More, a
most devout Catholic, complains bitterly of the irreverence of people
at church service. Outward behaviour, he says, “is a plain express
mirror or image of the mind, inasmuch as by the eyes, by the cheeks,
by the eyelids, by the brows, by the hands, by the feet, and finally
by the gesture of the whole body, right well appeareth how madly and
fondly the mind is set and disposed.” He applies this observation to
himself and the congregation. Sometimes “we solemnly get to and fro,
and other whiles fairly and softly set us down again.” “When we have to
kneel we do it upon one knee, or we have one cushion to kneel upon and
another to support the elbows. We never pretend to listen: we pare our
nails; we claw our head.”

[Illustration: A ROYAL PICNIC

From Turberville’s _Book of Hunting_, 1575.]

The second cause was the rise of the new Religion. It was inevitable
that with the destruction of the old forms a period of irreverence
should set in. The churches quickly began to show signs of neglect.
The windows were broken, the doors were unhinged, the walls fell into
decay, the very roofs were in some places stripped of their lead.
“The Book of God,” says Stubbes, “was rent ragged, and all be-torn.”
Some of the churches were used for stabling horses. Armed men met in
the churchyard, and wrangled, or shot pigeons with hand-guns over the
graves. Pedlars sold their wares in the church porches during service.
Morrice-dancers excited inattention and wantonness by their presence
in costume, so as to be ready for the frolics which generally followed
prayers. “Many there are,” said Sandys, preaching before Elizabeth even
after her reforms, “that hear not a sermon in seven years, I might say
in seventeen.” The friends of the new doctrine expected that all the
evils of the time would be instantly remedied. But the work of reform
was extremely gradual.

A third reason is offered for the irreverence of the people during
service, this time during the Anglican service. Many people walked
about, talked and laughed. This, however, was to show their contempt
for the new order; they were secretly attached to the ancient Faith;
they betrayed their sympathies, not only by this intolerance, but also
by crossing themselves and telling their beads in secret.

Many of the ancient customs remained. It was long before the people,
in London, could be persuaded to give up their old customs. Sunday
remained the weekly holiday: the people held on Sundays their wakes,
ales, rush-bearings, May games, bear-baitings, dancing, piping,
picnics, and gaming; they continued so to “break the Sabbath”—which
was first made part of the Christian week by the Puritans—until well
into the seventeenth century. After the Commonwealth I think that there
were very few traces of old customs lingering in the country, and only
those, such as the hanging of garlands in the chancel when a maiden
died, which carried with them no doctrinal significance and could prove
no occasion for drunkenness and debauchery.

Before the coming of the Puritans the funerals continued with much
of the old ritual. The body was laid out in such state as the family
circumstances allowed: tapers were burned round it by night and by day;
the church bells still rang for the prayers of the people, though they
were taught that to pray for the dead was a vain thing; the priests who
visited the house of the dead repeated the Lord’s Prayer; if on the
way to the churchyard the procession passed a cross, they stopped and
knelt, and made prayers; the body was laid in the grave wrapped in a
shroud, without a coffin; it was covered by a pall, which was decorated
with crosses. Those of the ancient Faith would persuade the clergymen,
if they could, to omit the service; if he persisted, they left the
grave and walked away. Nothing was a stronger tie to the old Religion
than its burial service, and its assurance that the dead who died in
the Church were assured of Heaven after due purgatory, and that the
prayers of the living were of avail to shorten the pains of prison.

Machyn, the City Chronicler of this period, thus describes the
simplicity of a Protestant funeral:—

  “The iij day of Aprell was browth unto saint Thomas of Acurs in
  Chepe from lytyll sant Barthellmuw in Lothberes masteres ... and
  ther was a gret compene of pepull, ij and ij together, and nodur
  prest nor clarke, the nuw prychers in ther gowne lyke leymen,
  nodur syngyng nor sayhyng tyll they came to the grave, and a-for
  she was pute into the grayff a collect in Englys, and then put
  into the grayff, and after took some heythe, and caste yt on the
  corse and red a thynge ... for the sam, and contenent cast the
  heth into the grave, and contenent red the pystyll of sant Poll to
  the Stesselonyans the chapter, and after thay song pater noster in
  Englys, boyth prychers and odur and women of a nuw fassyon, and
  after on of them whent into the pulpytt and made a sermon.”

The following note by Machyn presents one of the last appearances of
the old Sanctuary customs:—

  “The vi day of December the abbot of Westminster went a procession
  with his convent; before him went all the sanctuary men with crosse
  keys upon their garments, and after whent iij for murder: one was
  the Lord Dacre’s sone of the Northe was wypyd with a shett abowt
  him for Kyllyng of on master West, sqwyre, dwellyng besyd ...; and
  anodur theyff that dyd long to one of master comtroller ... dyd
  kylle Recherd Eggyllston the comtroller’s tayller, and killed him
  in the Lord Acurs, the bak-syd Charyng-crosse; and a boy that kyld
  a byge boye that sold papers and pryntyd bokes, with horlyng of a
  stone and yt hym under the ere in Westmynster Hall; the boy was one
  of the chylderyn that was at the sckoll ther in the abbey; the boy
  was a hossear [hosier] sune a-boyff London-stone.” (_Diary of Henry
  Machyn_, p. 121.)

The good old institution of Sanctuary died hard. Even after it was
supposed to have been finished and put away it continued to linger.
Abbot Feckenham made a vigorous appeal for its preservation. “All
princes,” he said, “and all Lawmakers, Solon in Athens, Lycurgus
in Lacedemon, all have had _loca refugii_, places of succour and
safe-guard for such as have transgressed laws and deserved corporal
pains. Since, therefore, ye mean not to destroy all sanctuaries, and if
your purpose be to maintain any, or if any be worthy to be continued,
Westminster, of all others, is most worthy, and that for four causes:
the first is, the antiquity and continuance of sanctuary there;
the second, the dignity of the person by whom it was ordained; the
third, the worthiness of the place itself; the fourth, the profit and
commodity that you have received thereby.”

It is a common charge against the Dissolution of the Religious Houses
that the old custom of open tables for all comers fell into disuse.
The disuse is not without exceptions. The Houses being suppressed, of
course the hospitality disappeared; but the practice was still kept up
by some of the Bishops: Archbishop Parker, for instance, fed every day
a number of poor people who waited outside the gates of Lambeth for the
broken meats; while any one who chose to come in, whether at dinner or
at supper, was received and entertained either at the Steward’s or the
Almoner’s table. Order was observed; no loud talking was permitted; and
the discourse was directed towards framing men’s manners to Religion.
Whether the practice of indiscriminate doles should have been kept up
is another question, and one that cannot be asked of the sixteenth
century. The state and dignity maintained by this Archbishop were
almost worthy of Cardinal Wolsey: the Queen gave him a patent for forty
retainers, but his household consisted of five times that number, all
living with him and dining at his table in Lambeth Palace.

The Church House was an ecclesiastical edifice which has now entirely
passed away. I know nothing about the Church House except what is found
in the _Archæological Journal_, vol. xl. p. 8.

“Not a single undoubted specimen has been spared to us, though it is
not improbable that the half-timbered building attached to the west end
of the church at Langdon, in Essex, and now called the Priest House, is
really one of these. We have evidence from all parts of the country
that they were once very common. There is, indeed, hardly an old
churchwarden’s account-book which goes back beyond the changes of the
sixteenth century that does not contain some reference to a building of
this kind. They continued in being and to be used for church purposes
long after the Reformation. The example at All Saints, Derby, stood in
the churchyard and was in existence in 1747.”... “We must picture to
ourselves then a long, low room with an ample fireplace, or rather a
big open chimney occupying one end with a cast hearth. Here the cooking
was done, and here the water boiled for brewing the church ale. There
was a large oak table in the middle with benches around, and a lean-to
building on one side to act as a cellar. This, I think, is not an
inaccurate sketch of a building which played no unimportant part in our
rural economy and rural pleasures. All the details are wanting, and
we can only fill them in by drawing on the imagination. We know that
almost all our churches were made beautiful by religious painting on
the walls. I should not be surprised if we some day discovered that
the church-house came in for its share of art, and that pictures, not
religious in the narrow sense, but grotesque and humorous, sometimes
covered the walls. It was in the church-house that the ales were held.
They were provided for in various ways, but usually by the farmers,
each of whom was wont to give his quota of malt. There was no malt
tax in those days, and as a consequence there was a malt-kiln in
almost every village. These ales were held at various times. There
was almost always one on the Feast of the Dedication of the Church.
Whitsuntide was also a very favourite time; but they seem to have been
held at any convenient time when money was wanted for the church....
Philip Stubbes, the author of the _Anatomie of Abuses_, only knew the
Church Ales in their decline. He was, Anthony Wood informs us, a most
rigid Calvinist, a bitter enemy to Popery, so that his picture must
be received with allowances for exaggeration. His account of them is
certainly not a flattering one. He tells us that ‘The Churche Wardens
... of every parishe, with the consent of the whole parishe, provide
halfe a score or twentie quarters of mault, wherof some they buye
of the churche stocke, and some is given them of the parishioners
themselves, everyone conferryng some-what, accordyng to his abilitie;
which mault beeyng made into very strong ale or beere is sette to sale,
either in the churche or some other place assigned to that purpose.
Then, when this ... is sette abroche, well is he that can gette soonest
to it and spend the most at it; for he that sitteth the closest to it
and spendes the moste at it, he is counted the godliest man of all the
rest, and moste in God’s favour, because it is spent uppon His church
forsoth. But who, either for want can not, or otherwise for feare of
God’s wrath will not sticke to it, he is counted none destitute both
of vertue and godlines.... In this kind of practise they continue six
weekes, a quarter of a yere, yea helfe a yeare together, swillyng
and gullyng, night and daie, till they be as dronke as rattes, and as
blockishe as beastes.... That money ... if all be true which they saie
... they repair their churches and chappels with it, they buie bookes
for service, cuppes for the celebration of the sacrements, surplesses
for Sir John, and such other necessaries.’”

[Illustration: OLD ST. PAUL’S BEFORE THE DESTRUCTION OF THE STEEPLE]

The burning of St. Paul’s steeple created a great sensation, and was
by some regarded as an act of God’s wrath for the recent changes.
Maitland[3] quotes an original letter describing the disaster:—

  “A.D. 1561, on Wednesday the 4th of June, as appears by a Letter
  before me from Mr. Richard Jones to Sir Nicholas Throckmorton,
  Ambassador from Queen Elizabeth to the Court of France,
  communicated by the honourable Mr. Yorke, it rained all the Day,
  and, towards Four of the Clock in the Afternoon, it began to
  thunder terribly: ‘When suddenly a Thunder-bolt, with a great
  Thunder following, hit within a Yard of the very top of the
  Steeple, which forthwith shewed his Effect, and appeared a little
  Fire, like unto the Light of a Torch, which, increasing towards
  the Weather-cock, caused the same within a quarter of an hour to
  fall down; whereby the Wind, which was great, and the more vehement
  by reason of the opening of the Steeple and Height thereof, caused
  the Flame so to augment, and burn the Steeple, which no Man could
  succour, as within an Hour the high Steeple of Paul’s, which was
  so long in building, and so renowned, was utterly consumed to the
  very Battlements; which being of some Breadth and Strength, as was
  needful to uphold such a weight, received most part of the Timber
  which fell from the Spire, and began to burn with such Vehemence,
  as all the Timber was burnt, the Iron and Bells melted and fallen
  down upon the stairs within a short space. This was judged to be
  the end of the effect of the lightning; when forthwith the East
  and West roofs of the Church, partly kindled with the timber which
  fell from the Battlements, and with the heating of the Fire whiles
  it remained within the Stone Steeple, were on Fire, and ceased not
  to burn so extremely, as could not be provided for by no means,
  till that not only those ends, but the north and south ails, before
  one of the Clock after Midnight, were consumed, and not a piece of
  Timber left, nor Lead unmolten, upon any of the higher and cross
  Roofs and Battlements. The side Ails, tho’ they were a little
  touched, by reason of their Crowns, remained safe, Thanks be to
  God. And this is all that is happened by this Misfortune, and the
  Church within is untouched. Your Lordship may guess what Stir and
  Removing there was in St. Paul’s Church-yard, especially towards
  the North door, where divers Houses were pulled down, and much
  lamentation on all sides. On the East End a Pinnacle fell down and
  ruined a House, wherein there were seven Persons not hurt, but the
  good man of the House a little. Many other turmoils there were, as
  in like Cases it happens; which, as it grieves me to hear, so I
  am loth to write the same. The French here are not sorry for the
  Matter. All good and honest Men are sorry for it, and impute it to
  a terrible remembrance of God’s Anger towards us for our Offences.
  This is enough and too much of so grievous a matter; and yet I
  thought I should perhaps satisfy your Lordship in writing thereof
  thus largely.

                                                           R. JONES.’

  LONDON, _June 5th, 1561_.”

As might have been expected of a time when all the world was thinking
and talking about religious doctrine, the unlearned as well as the
learned, but with much more confidence and presumption, arguing
entirely on the meaning of texts, passages, and detached clauses, there
were fanatics in plenty. I have made a selection from the cases before
me.

“William Hacket gave out that he was Jesus Christ, come to judge the
World; which was soon proclaimed throughout the City of London by
Edmond Coppinger and Henry Arthington, two of his Disciples; who, going
from Hacket’s Lodgings, at Broken-Wharf, thro’ Watling-Street and the
Old-Change, amidst an excessive Multitude, to Cheapside, they mounted
an empty cart near the end of Gutter Lane, and proclaimed Mercy from
Heaven to all such as should repent and believe that Christ (William
Hacket) was come with his Fan in his hand to judge the Earth, and to
establish the Gospel in Europe, and that he was then to be seen, with
his glorious Body, at one Walker’s, at Broken-Wharf; and that they
were Prophets, the one of Mercy, and the other of Judgment, sent by
God Himself as Witnesses, and to assist in the present great Work.
The first of whom incessantly proclaimed Mercy and Joys inexpressible
to all such as should receive this acceptable Message; and the last
denounced terrible Judgments against the Obdurate, which should
not only immediately fall upon the Incredulous in this City, but
that likewise all such were condemned to eternal Punishments; and,
in a particular and very treasonable Manner, thundered out bitter
invectives against the Queen and her Ministry; wherefore they were all
apprehended, and Hacket, the pretended Messiah, soon after tried and
convicted at the Old-Baily of Treason; whence he was carried to the
Place of Execution in Cheapside, where, instead of shewing the least
Sorrow for his Crimes, he committed the most horrid and execrable
Blasphemies against God, and detestable imprecations against the Queen
and her Ministers; and his associate, Coppinger, refusing all Manner
of sustenance, died the next Day in Bridewell, as did Arthington, his
Companion, some Time after in Wood Street Compter.” Evidently three
enthusiasts all equally mad and equally obstinate.

Later on, also, was the case of Anne Burnell (Sharpe, i. 552):—

“The strain which the continuation of the war and the threatened
renewal of a Spanish invasion imposed upon the inhabitants of London
at large was a great one, and appears to have affected the mind of a
weak and hysterical woman, Anne Burnell. She gave out that she was a
daughter of the King of Spain, and that the arms of England and Spain
were to be seen, like stigmata, upon her back, as was vouched for by
her servant, Alice Digges. After medical examination, which proved her
statement to be ‘false and proceedinge of some lewde and imposterouse
pretence,’ she and her maid were ordered to be whipt,—‘ther backes only
beeinge layd bare,’—at the cart’s tail through the City on a market
day, ‘with a note in writinge uppon the hinder part of their heades
shewinge the cawse of their saide punishmente.’”

Again, there was the case of William Geffery and John Moore. These two
unfortunate creatures were perfectly mad, and ought to have been locked
up in Bethlehem. Said William Geffery to the other lunatic, “Christ
is not in Heaven, John. He is on earth and like unto us.” “He is,”
John replied, “and thou thyself, William Geffery, art none other than
Christ.” “That,” said William, “is perfectly correct.” They therefore
clapped John Moore in Bethlehem and William Geffery in the Marshalsea.
This should have been enough. But it was not the fashion of the time
ever to have enough of punishing. They therefore tied Geffery to the
cart tail and flogged him all the way from the Marshalsea to Bethlehem,
a matter of two miles. At the gate of Bethlehem the cart was stopped.
Then John Moore was brought out, and Geffery was flogged again until he
confessed his error and acknowledged that Christ was in Heaven and that
he himself was nothing but a sinful man. They then stripped John Moore
and tied him to the cart tail; at first he took the punishment smiling,
but before going an arrow’s shot he begged them to stop, and confessed
that he was wrong. So they both went back: John Moore to Bethlehem and
William Geffery to the Marshalsea, and we hear no more of them.

The Anabaptists were another perverse people who met with no mercy. On
3rd April 1575 there was found a congregation of Anabaptists in a house
outside Aldgate Bars. Twenty-seven in all were arrested. On the 15th
of May four of them, bearing faggots to show that they deserved death,
recanted at Paul’s Cross; on 22nd July two of them were burned at
Smithfield, “who died in great horror, with roaring and crying.” Their
recantation shows the doctrines they held.

  “Whereas I.I.T.R.H. being seduced by the devil, the spirit of
  error, and by false teachers his ministers, have fallen into
  certain most detestable and damnable heresies, namelie:—

  1. That Christ tooke not flesh of the substance of the blessed
  Virgin Marie.

  2. That infants of the faithful ought not be baptized.

  3. That a Christian man may not be a magistrate, or beare the sword
  or office of authoritie.

  4. That it is not lawful for a Christian to take an oth. Now by
  the Grace of God, and through conference with good and learned
  ministers of Christ His church, I doo understand and acknowledge
  the same to be most damnable and detestable heresies, and doo aske
  God here before His church mercie for my said former errors, and
  doo forsake them, recant and renounce them, and abjure them from
  the botome of my heart, professing that I certainly believe:

  1. That Christ tooke flesh of the substance of the blessed Virgin
  Marie.

  2. That infants of the faithfull ought to be baptized.

  3. That a Christian man may be a magistrate, or beare the sword or
  office of authoritie.

  4. That it is lawful for a Christian man to take an oth. And
  further that I confess that the whole doctrine and religion
  established and published in this realme of England, as also that
  which is received and preached in the Dutch Church, from henceforth
  utterlie abandoning and forsaking all and every anabaptistical
  error. This is my faith now, in the which I doo purpose and trust
  to stand firme and stedfast to the end. And that I may soo doo, I
  beseech you all to praie with me, and for me, to God the heavenlie
  father, in the name of his son our Saviour Jesus Christ.”

Before this, one man and ten women were tried in the Consistory of St.
Paul’s and sentenced to be burned, but one woman having been converted,
they resolved on banishing the rest, who were Dutch. Accordingly the
nine women were led by the sheriff, and the man was tied to a cart tail
and whipped all the way from Newgate to the river, where they were
shipped. And there was a certain sect called the Family of Love, which
gave some trouble through their obstinacy. In the year 1575 five of
them recanted; in 1580 the sect were thought of sufficient importance
to justify a proclamation against them. The tenets of the people do
not appear, but they were accused of holding it laudable to deny their
connection with their own sect, which made it impossible to convict
them by their own confession.

The case of Matthew Hamont, plough-wright, may conclude these cases
of strange hallucinations and the conclusions of a disordered brain.
He was a common man of no education, who took to thinking and reading
about doctrines which he could not understand. He finally arrived at
the conclusion that the New Testament, with the Gospels, is but an
invention of man, that Christ was a mere man, and so on, shrinking
from nothing. This poor lunatic they gravely tried, and because he had
spoken words against the Queen, they first cut off both his ears, and
then, after giving him a week of pain from his wounds, they burned him
for a heretic.




                              CHAPTER III

                             SUPERSTITION


After Religion stalks her caricature, Superstition. Now the credulities
of London in the Elizabethan age were many and wonderful.

Everybody, for instance, at that time believed in _witchcraft_. Yet
there was not wanting an occasional protest.

“I saie, that there is none which acknowledgeth God to be onlie
omnipotent ... but will denie that the elements are obedient to
witches, and at their commendement; or that they may at their pleasure
send raine, haile, tempests, thunder, lightning.... Such faithlesse
people are also persuaded that neither hale nor snowe, thunder nor
lightening, raine nor tempestuous winds, come from the heavens at the
commandement of God, but are raised by the cunning and power of witches
and conjurers; inasmuch as a clap of thunder or a gale of wind is no
sooner heard, but wither they run to ring bells, or crie out to burne
witches, or else burne consecrated things, hoping by the smoke thereof
to drive the devill out of the aire.”

Witchcraft and magic were, however, recognised by the Government as
real things. It was thought desirable in 1542 to pass an Act against
these practices.

“It shall be felony to practise, or cause to be practised conjurations,
with craft, enchantment or sorcery, to get money: or to consume any
person in his body, members, or goods; or to provoke any person to
unlawful love; or for the despight of Christ or lucre of money to pull
down any cross; or to declare where goods stolen,” etc.

This Act of Henry VIII. was repeated or confirmed by Elizabeth twenty
years later, and by James I. in 1603. Cranmer, in 1549, ordered the
clergy to inquire “whether you know of any that use charms, sorcery,
enchantment, witchcrafts, soothsaying, or any like craft invented by
the devil.” And in 1558 Bishop Jewel, preaching before the Queen, said,
“It may please your Grace to understand that witches and sorcerers
within these last few years are marvellously increased within your
Grace’s realm. Your subjects pine away even to the death; their colour
fadeth; their flesh rotteth; their speech is benumbed; their senses are
bereft.”

The precautions used against witchcraft do not belong to London, where
the belief in the superstition took a less active form than in the
country. A pebble with a natural hole in it, a horseshoe picked up by
accident and nailed up over the door, a hare’s foot in the pocket, a
bit of witchwood, were simple precautions against the witch. I do not
think that these superstitions were much followed in London, though
there are examples that the terror of the witch prevailed in the City
as well as in the country.

It is remarkable that the spread of education and the toleration of
fine thoughts in religion did not destroy this horrible superstition.
On the contrary it increased, and the seventeenth century, when the
greatest amount of religious freedom was practised if not allowed, only
made the belief in witchcraft more profound.

Who could choose but to believe when Ben Jonson himself could write of
witches as follows?

    “Within a gloomy dimble she doth dwell,
    Down in a pit o’ergrown with brakes and briars,
    Close by the ruins of a shaken abbey,
    Torn with an earthquake down into the ground,
    ’Mongst graves and grots, near an old charnel-house
    Where you shall find her sitting in her form,
    As fearful and melancholie as that
    She is about: with caterpillars’ kells,
    And knotty cobwebs, rounded in with spells.
    Thence she steals forth to relief in the fogs,
    And rotten mists, upon the fens and bogs,
    Down to the drowned lands of Lincolnshire:
    To make ewes cast their lambs, swine eat their farrow,
    The housewives’ tun not work, nor the milk churn!
    Writhe children’s wrists, and suck their breath in sleep:
    Get vials of their blood! and where the sea
    Casts up his slimy ooze, search for a weed
    To open locks with, and to rivet charms,
    Planted about her in the wicked feat
    Of all her mischiefs, which are manifold.”

We may illustrate this belief by the case of Joan Cason or Freeman (she
was the wife of one Freeman). She was indicted and solemnly tried by a
jury on the charge of being a witch, and of having killed by witchcraft
one Jane Cooke, aged three years.

The principal evidence was Sarah Cooke, mother of the child. She kept
an alehouse. She was one day drawing a pot of ale for a stranger when
he remarked the languishing condition of her child, and suggested
that it was bewitched. “Take,” he said, “a tile from the house of the
suspected person, lay it in the fire, and if she really is a witch
the tile will sparkle round the cradle.” Wonderful to relate, Sarah
Cooke took a tile from the woman’s house, laid it in the fire, and
it did “sparkle round the house.” At that moment Joan Cason herself
looked in, gazed upon the child, and went away. Four hours after the
child died. What more was wanted? There was evidence corroborative.
In the lifetime of the man Freeman there was something like a rat seen
about her house, something that squeaked. In the end Joan was hanged,
protesting her innocence, but confessing ill conduct with one Mason,
who had died of the plague.

There is also the case of Simon Penbrooke, living in St. George’s
Parish, Southwark. He was suspected to be a conjurer, and was summoned
before a court holden in the church of St. Mary Overies either for that
or for some other case. As he was talking to a proctor, presumably
about his defence, he suddenly fell dead, just as the Judge entered the
church. Of course the Judge remarked that it was the just judgment of
God towards those that used sorcery, “and a great example to admonish
others to fear the justice of God.” They found upon him certain
“develish” books of conjuration, with a tin man and other fearful
things. And they were reminded of Leviticus xx. 6, “If anie soule turne
himselfe after such as woorke with spirits and after soothsaiers, saith
the Lorde, I will put my face against that soule, and will cut him off
from among my people.”

Another form of witchcraft was that of the professional conjurer. There
was, for instance, the case of William Randoll, who was charged with
conjuring to know where treasure was hid in the earth. Four others were
charged with assisting at the conjuration. One has no doubt of the
fact or of the means employed. Randoll used, of course, the well-known
bent stick, the “verge de Jacob,” which is still employed all over the
world for the discovery of water, though its properties and powers in
revealing the existence of metals have been of late neglected, and are
now nearly forgotten. The whole of the accused were condemned to death,
but in the end Randoll alone was executed. There was said at the time
to be five hundred professed conjurers in the country.

The origin of touching for the King’s Evil is recounted by Stow in his
_Annals_ in the following manner:—

“A young woman was afflicted with this disorder in a very alarming
manner, and to a most disgusting degree, feeling uneasiness and pain
consequent upon it in her sleep, dreamt that she should be cured by
the simple operation of having the part washed by the King’s hand.
Application was consequently made to Edward, by her friends, who very
humanely consented to perform the unpleasant request. A bason of water
was brought, with which he carefully softened the tumours till they
broke, and the contents discharged; the sign of the cross wound up the
charm; and the female retired, with the assurance of his protection
during the remainder of the cure, which was effected within a week.”

Of talismans and amulets the sixteenth century had many. The word
talisman is an Arabic corruption of the Greek, _i.e._ the influence
of a planet or Zodiacal sign upon a person born under it. It was a
symbolical figure drawn or engraved. It was supposed at once to procure
love and to avert danger. The amulet derived from Latin _amolior_,
to do away with, or baffle, averted danger of all kinds. Amber kept
children from danger; a child’s caul made lawyers prosper; the Evil Eye
was averted by certain well-known symbols, including the locust; the
closed hand, the pine cone, and other objects were amulets. The German
Jew at the point of death tied his head round with knotted leather.
The Turks cured apoplexy by encircling the head with a parchment strip
painted with signs of the Zodiac. Spells were of all kinds.

Among the superstitions of the time must not be forgotten that
favourite form of superstition known as astrology, which still
flourishes, though it is not so commonly practised and believed as
formerly. Many of the Fathers of the Church denounced astrology, yet
astrologers continued. After the Reformation they became more open
in their profession and more daring in their pretensions. The names
of Nostradamus, Cornelius Agrippa, William Lilly, Robert Fludd, John
Dee, and Simon Former, occur as leaders among the astrologers, some of
whom were also alchemists. Some of the English professors of astrology
were pupils of Cornelius Agrippa in London and at Pavia; others went
to study the science at Strasburg. Judicial astrology was in great
vogue in London for two hundred years after the Reformation; hundreds
of people gained their livelihood by casting nativities for children
in which their future was foretold. The story of Dryden and his son’s
nativity is well known. The astrologers picked out lucky days for the
commencement of any kind of business; they told fortunes; they resolved
questions; they recovered stolen goods; they predicted future events.
It is, however, apparent from their own writings that they had little
confidence in the stars, and that the popular part of astrology,
at least, was for the most part guesswork, not without fraud. The
astrologers of London in the sixteenth century formed themselves into a
Society. In the year 1550 a certain Dr. Gell preached a sermon before
the Society of Astrologers. Ashmole also mentions his own attendance
at certain astrological banquets. But about the Society itself very
little is known. Newton pointed out that the sun and stars were only
other earths which could have no power over the destiny of men. But the
superstition decayed very slowly.

Dr. Dee’s _Diary_ is a _locus classicus_ for the superstitions of his
time—the last quarter of the sixteenth century.

He hears knockings in his chamber, with a voice like the shrieking of
an owl, but more drawn out and more soft. He is offered a sight in a
crystal and he “saw”—what did he see? He does not tell us.

A friend is strangely troubled by a “spiritual creature” about
midnight. Robert Gardiner reveals to him a great philosophical secret,
which is received with common prayer. He hears of an alchemist who
gives away “great lumps” of the philosopher’s stone. He dreams that he
is to be bereft of his books.

There was trouble with Anne his nurse. She was tempted by a wicked
spirit who possessed her. He prayed with her; he anointed her with
“holy oil” twice, the wicked spirit resisting. Despite the power of
the oil Anne threw herself into the well, but was dragged out in time.
Three weeks later she evaded her keeper and cut her throat.

In 1596 Dee received a message from the Queen; he was to do what he
would in philosophy and alchemy; no one should hinder him. And so on to
the end of the _Diary_.

In the autumn of 1899 there was found in the garden of Lincoln’s
Inn a thin leaden tablet about four inches square. On one side were
eighty-one small squares, arranged in a large square, each with a
number engraved upon it. On the other side were three names—Hasmodar,
Scherchemosh, and Scharhahan, with a symbol to each. The explanation
is as follows:—The square is a charm; the number eighty-one is the
number of the Moon, each planet having its own number in the “science”
of astrology. The arrangement of the numbers in the eighty-one squares
is such that added up vertically or horizontally or diagonally the sum
shall always be the same. In this case it is 369. Why 369 I cannot
explain. On the other side the three names are the three spirits of the
Moon, each with its hieroglyph.

The writing is an expression of an invitation or a command to the
spirits to work mischief on an unfortunate man. Had the sorcerer
desired good fortune he would have used a silver plate. In either case
it was necessary to bury the plate in some secret place, unseen and
unsuspected.

The following story is gravely told by Philip Stubbes. Perhaps he did
not believe it himself; but it is certain that he meant his readers to
believe it.

“This gentlewoman beeyng a very riche Merchaunte mannes daughter: upon
a tyme was invited to a Bridall or Wedding, whiche was solemnized in
that Toune, againste whiche daie she made great preparation, for the
plumyng of herself in gorgious arraie, that as her body was moste
beautifull, faire, and proper, so her attire in every respecte might
bee corespondent to the same. For the accomplishment whereof, she
curled her haire, she died her lockes, and laied them out after the
best maner, she coloured her face with waters and Ointmentes; but in no
case could she gette any (so curious and daintie she was) that could
starche and sette her Ruffes and Neckerchers to her mynde; wherefore
she sent for a couple of Laundresses, who did the best thei could to
please her humours, but in anywise thei could not. Then fell she to
sweare and teare, to cursse and banne, castyng the Ruffes under feete,
and wishyng that the Devill might take her when she weare any of those
Neckerchers againe. In the meane tyme (through the sufferaunce of God)
the Devill, transformyng himself into the forme of a young man, as
brave and proper as she in every pointe in outward appearance, came
in, fainyng himself to bee a woer or suter unto her. And seyng her thus
agonized, and in suche a peltyng chase, he demaunded of her the cause
thereof, who straight waie tolde hym how she was abused in the settyng
of her Ruffes, which thyng beeyng heard of hym, he promised to please
her minde, and thereto tooke in hande the setting of her Ruffes, whiche
he performed to her greate contentation, and likyng, in so muche as
she lokyng her self in a glasse (as the Devill bad her) became greatly
inamoured with hym. This dooen, the yong man kissed her, in the doyng
whereof he writhe her necke in sunder, so she died miserably, her
bodie beyng metamorphosed into blacke and blewe colours most ugglesome
to behold, and her face (whiche before was so amorous) became moste
deformed, and fearfull to looke upon. This being knowen, preparaunce
was made for her burial, a riche coffin was provided, and her fearfull
bodie was laied therein, and it covered verie sumpteously. Foure men
immediatly assaied to lifte up the corps, but could not move it, then
sixe attempted the like, but could not once stirre it from the place
where it stoode. Whereat the standers by marveilyng, caused the Coffin
to bee opened, to see the cause thereof. Where thei founde the bodie
to be taken awaie, and a blacke Catte verie leane and deformed sittyng
in the Coffin, setting of greate Ruffes, and frizlyng of haire, to the
greate feare and wonder of all beholders. This wofull spectacle have I
offered to their viewe, that by looking into it, instead of their other
looking Glasses thei might see their own filthinesse, and avoyde the
like offence, for feare of the same, or worser judgment: whiche God
graunt thei maie doe.”




                          ELIZABETHAN LONDON




                               CHAPTER I

                               WITH STOW


Let us climb the steps that lead to the City Wall at the Tower postern,
and make a circuit by means of the Wall. We walk on the five-foot way
designed for the archers. It is grass-grown between the stones. On the
battlements the wall-flower grows luxuriously with the green fumitory
and the red flowers of the kiss-me-quick. Looking over the Wall we
perceive that the ditch is nearly filled up: all kinds of rubbish have
been shot into it; there are small ponds of water here and there,
and on the opposite bank are gardens in patches and what we call
allotments. “Alas!” says our guide, who continually laments the past,
“I remember when the ditch was full, and when the boys came to bathe
in it and were sometimes drowned in it. Then fish abounded and men
angled from the bank.” We begin our walk. “I remember,” our guide goes
on, talking while he leads the way, “running along the Wall when I was
a boy, nearly sixty years ago. It was a favourite pastime to run from
gate to gate. That was before the suppression of the Religious.” He
sighed—Was he then regretting that event? “All the Houses were standing
then. One thought they would stand for ever. Yet the axe was already
laid to the tree: there was internal decay and external contempt,
though we boys knew nothing of it. The friars in vain searched the
boxes put up for them in the shops: no one would give them alms; if
they went into a house, no one would give them so much as a crust
of bread; there were but fifteen left in Grey Friars, and they were
selling their vessels of silver and gold when they were called upon to
surrender. But still their churches made a brave show. All day long
the bells were ringing—’twas a city of bells. They rang from cathedral
and parish church; from monastery and nunnery; from college of priests
and from chapel and from spital. They rang for festivals and fasts;
for pageants and ridings; for births and deaths; for marriages and
funerals; for the election of City officers; for the King’s birthday;
for the day and the hour; they rang in the baby; they rang out the
passing soul; they rang merrily in honour of the bride; they rang for
work to begin and for work to cease; the streets echoed the ringing
of bells all day long; for miles round London you could hear with the
singing of the larks the ringing of the bells.

“A third part of the City belonged to the Houses and the Church.
Why, thousands of honest people lived by working for St. Paul’s and
the parish churches and the monks and nuns. Look around you now.”
We were close to Aldgate. Stow pointed to the south-east. Near
the Tower stood a venerable church in a precinct surrounded by a
stone wall and containing a cloister, houses round it, a garden, a
school-house, and a burial-ground. “Behold the last of them!” he said.
“St. Katherine’s, the smallest of all the Foundations, still exists;
but changed—Ah!—changed. Where are the rest?” On the north of St.
Katherine’s was another precinct marked out by a wall, and within it
broken walls, broken windows, and rough timber store-houses. “There
was once Eastminster,” said Stow. “Who is mindful of our Lady of Grace
and her Cistercians? They are forgotten. Look Citywards. Yon ruins are
those of the Crutched Friars. What is left to mark their abode of two
hundred years and more? Their hall was converted into a glass-house
and is burned down; their church contains now a carpenter’s shop and
a tennis court. Turn your eyes more to the north. Those are the ruins
of St. Helen’s Nunnery: their chapel is part of the parish church;
their hall is now the Hall of the Leathersellers’ Company; their
gardens also belong to that honourable Company. Or yonder, where you
may behold the precinct of the Holy Trinity Priory. The Prior was also
Alderman of Portsoken Ward and rode among the other Aldermen, but in
habit ecclesiastical, as I myself have seen. The House kept open table
for rich and poor; a noble and hospitable House it was, but in the end
decayed by reason of too great hospitality. The church was pulled down
and levelled with the ground—_Proh Pudor!_—the courts remain, but with
other buildings; and now is that venerable and regal Foundation clean
forgotten. Behold”—he pointed outside the Wall—“the place where the
_Sorores Minores_, the sisters of St. Clare, lived for many years. The
walls of their refectory still stand; on the site of their cloister is
a fair and large store-house for armours and habiliments of war, with
work-houses serving unto the same purpose. Alas! Poor Sisters! To this
end has come their House of Peace and Prayer.”

“Nevertheless, Master Stow, the City is more prosperous than before.”

“I know not; I know not,” he said impatiently. “What do I know about
wealth and prosperity? Let us go on.” So he left off talking about the
churches and monasteries and pointed to the houses beyond the Wall.
“The suburbs,” he said, “have not greatly increased of late years.
There has been too much plague among us. And, indeed, it would seem
that we are never to be rid of plague. The Queen’s Council forbade
the building of new houses. As well forbid the rising of the tide.
There are now—as you can plainly see—a line of cottages on both sides
of the road as far as Whitechapel Church. But who is to hinder? There
is a line of houses along the riverside as far as Ratcliffe and even
Limehouse, where once were elms so noble. But who is there to hinder?
Masterless men are they, and sea-faring men and common cheats and
rogues, who live beside the river, beyond the jurisdiction of the Mayor
and safe from the wholesome cart tail and the penance of pillory.

[Illustration: A True and Exact Draught of the TOWER LIBERTIES,
survey’d in the Year 1597 by _Gulielmus Haiward_ and _J. Gascoyne_.

E. Gardner’s Collection.]

“Pleasant it was, in those old days,” he went on, “to overlook the
quiet nuns from the Wall. There were no whispers against those holy
Sisters, and no scandals. We loved to look upon them in their gardens
quiet and peaceful. They prayed for the City, the nuns of St. Clare,
of St. Helen’s, and of Holywell. Now every man prays for himself.
There were also the monks in their cloisters, walking and reading and
meditating. Some there were who called the monks devourers and drones.
I know not. Their prayers were asked for the dead and for the living.
No one prays now for the dead, and no one asks where they lie or how
they fare. Drones and devourers! They were gentlemen all by birth,—why
should they work?”

It was, indeed, surprising to see the ruins of the Houses, nor had I
understood, until I walked round the Wall and observed the ruins, how
many there were, or how great was the destruction when the masterful
King turned out the monks and nuns and gave their houses to his
favourites and his courtiers. “They have taken” said Stow, “all they
wanted of the stones. What are left will vanish little by little.”

“But the memory will continue.”

“Nay, in the minds of scholars, not of the people. Things of the past
are soon forgotten. No one will teach the children about the Houses of
monks and friars. If they teach them anything at all, it will be as
Barnabe Googe taught his generation when he gathered into one volume
all that could be alleged or invented against those holy men, if they
were holy,” he added, correcting himself. “Indeed a man must pay heed
unto his words. I have been, myself, charged with Romish leanings
because I remember things that are past and gone. What do the young
folk now understand of what they have lost, because they never saw it?
I am now old, and in age the mind flies back willingly to the days of
youth.”

Within the Wall we saw the ruins of the Crutched Friars, of St.
Helen’s, of the Holy Priory, of the Austin Friars, of the Papey, of
Elsing Spital, of St. James’s in the Wall, of the Grey Friars and of
the Black Friars; without the Wall there were the ruins of Eastminster,
of the Clares, of St. Mary Spital, of Holywell, of the Church House, of
the Knights Hospitallers, of Clerkenwell Nunnery, of St. Bartholomew’s
Priory, and of the White Friars.

“The poets, doubtless,” I said, “and with them the divines, meditate
among these ruins.”

“Alas! No. The poets write songs of love and sing them; or they go
forth to the wars and sing of them. The times are brisk. It is as if
the world was waking up from sleep: there are new things everywhere;
we live in the present; our ships go forth to distant lands; there is
a new world, a Terra Incognita, to be explored and conquered; it is no
time for meditation. When the cloister was broken down meditation fled
beyond the seas. We live to fight and to get rich, and to watch against
the wiles of Pope and Spaniard.”

[Illustration: EAST VIEW OF CLOISTERS OF COLLEGIATE CHURCH OF ST.
KATHERINE

Taken down in July 1755.]

“Do these ruins then inspire no regret?”

“None. The people are forgetting fast. Only old men sometimes speak
of what they remember; when the last stones have been taken away, the
very names will tell them nothing. Even the names are changing. Soon
all will be lost and forgotten. Strange! Four hundred years those monks
lived among us, and after fifty years they are already clean forgotten
as much as if they had never lived.”

At Bishopsgate, Stow pointed northward. “Houses,” he said, “are
stretching along the northern road, but slowly. Among the ruins of
Holywell stands a Play house, and outside it is another. What will
be the end of this passion for the theatre, I know not. Formerly, an
interlude in an Inn yard, a masque in a Company’s Hall, and so enough.
Now have ye every day a play set forth upon a stage, with songs and
music, and boys dressed up as women.”

He shook his head and led on, still following the Wall. Within the
City on this north side there were many large and fair gardens, some
belonging to Companies which here have their Halls, and some to
merchants’ houses, and some that once belonged to the Monastic Houses.
They were set with fruit-trees and with beds of flowers and sweet
herbs. Among the gardens stood collections of craftsmen’s cottages and
workshops, and the churches with their small green churchyards were
almost hidden by the trees. This part of London truly had a rural look
by reason of these gardens.

We passed Moorgate, the old church of the Papey close to the Wall,
and further along, also close to the Wall, the church of All Hallows;
we came to Cripplegate with its church outside the Wall. And passing
a bend to the south, continued our walk. On the other side of the
ditch was another double line of houses. “This is Aldersgate,” said
Stow. “The way leads to the Charter House and beyond to the village
of Iseldon. You can now see the ruins of the House of the Knights
Hospitallers; their noble gate yet stands, and part of their church.
Beyond was the Priory of St. Bartholomew. From the Wall you may behold
their cloisters; the chancel of their church is now a parish church.
Close at hand is Smithfield. What things have been done at Smithfield!
I was thirty years of age when Queen Mary burned her martyrs. There had
been burnings before her time, but she outdid them all. Sir, she was
ill-advised: she thought to make the people go back to the old Religion
through fear. She might have led them back through love. I have seen
the burning of those stubborn folk. Old and young, men and women, nay
children, have I seen standing in the faggots, praying aloud while the
flames mounted up and licked their hands and their faces. Mostly they
died quickly, being smothered with the smoke; but sometimes the flames
were blown away, and we saw the blackened body still in agony, and the
lips that moved to the end in prayer. And we saw how the Lord answered,
giving fortitude to endure or even, if we knew it, painlessness in
the midst of fire. To see father, brother, neighbour, so die without
fear, and as if joyously enduring torture in order to reach the gates
of Heaven,—Believe me, sir, this it was that made the people what they
are, and completed Henry’s work.”

We came to Newgate. “Behold!” he said, “the cat, emblem of Whittington,
who rebuilt this gate and prison. Here is Christ’s Hospital, which once
was the House of the Grey Friars. It is London’s chiefest glory: here
shall you find boys ruled with wisdom and taught godliness, who would
otherwise have joined the throngs of the masterless, and roamed about
the streets and roads.” And so on to Ludgate, where we left the Wall.
“See,” said Stow, “there are houses with many palaces of nobles all
the way from Bridewell to the King’s House at Westminster. And now,
good sir, we leave the Wall, and we will visit the City within the
Wall.”

[Illustration: ST. PAUL’S CHURCH

From Visscher’s _Panorama of London_.]

He led me by Ludgate into the precinct of St. Paul’s, surrounded by
a stone wall; the Cathedral looked battered and worn by the tooth of
time; the spire, once the glory of the City, was gone never to be
replaced; the stonework was black in parts from the smoke of the sea
coal; the tracery was mouldering; about the towers of the west flew the
swifts crying. “There are kites on the roof,” said Stow, “which keep
the City clean and devour the offal.”

[Illustration: LATIMER PREACHING BEFORE EDWARD VI. AT WESTMINSTER

E. Gardner’s Collection.]

At Paul’s Cross there was a preaching by some reverend divine: a crowd
of women sat on benches listening; a few men were there, but it was in
working hours. The preacher argued some difficult point of doctrine,
comparing texts and turning over the leaves of his small brown Geneva
Bible. I observed that his hearers listened with a critical air. “For
fifty years,” said Stow, looking on with contempt, “they have been
arguing and disputing on matters of doctrine and nothing settled yet;
in the old time we were told what to believe, and we were stayed and
comforted by our belief. These people prove one thing to-day and
another thing to-morrow. They are pulled this way and that by the
power of texts which they think they understand. Let us go into the
Cathedral.”

[Illustration: SOUTH FRONT OF BAYNARD’S CASTLE, ABOUT 1640]

Outside, in the churchyard, everything was destroyed that formerly made
the place venerable and beautiful: Pardon churchyard; the “Clochard;”
the cloister with the Dance of Death; Sherrington’s Library; the
college of the minor canons. Only Paul’s Cross remained. And the
Cathedral, rising up alone and gaunt, bereft of her daughters, seemed
mournful and lonely. “Perhaps,” said Stow, “a new church is wanted for
the new Faith. St. Paul’s was not built for Protestants. They know not
how to treat the church. Look at yonder fellows!” He pointed to two
porters who bore boxes on their heads, and entering at the North doors
tramped noisily through the Cathedral, going out at the South. “They
have made a right of way, a short way, through the church. Saw one ever
the like? Through the church itself!”

We went in; the nave was a kind of noisy Exchange, yet not for
merchants. It was full of people loudly talking of all kinds of
business; ladies were there. “They make their assignations in the
church,” said Stow. Gallants richly dressed swaggered up and down the
middle aisle; servants stood waiting to be hired; scriveners had their
stools and tables, and were busy writing letters; men disputed over
their affairs, yea, and quarrelled loudly. The chancel was walled off
and separated from the nave and transepts. The old glory had departed
from the once splendid interior: of all the chapels, shrines, altars,
chantries, paintings, lights, carved marbles, work in ivory, gold
and silver, nothing was left. Only bare whitewashed walls and a few
plain tombs; even the painted glass, wherever it could be reached,
was broken. While we looked around the organ began to play; it was
accompanied by other instruments, chiefly wind instruments. With the
music ascended the voices of the choir, the pure sweet voices of the
boys. My old guide’s eyes grew humid. “No,” he said, “they have not
taken all away. The music remains with us, to remind us that Heaven
is left although we have whitewashed the paintings that revealed its
glories.”

We left the precinct by the North gate, which opens upon the back of
St. Michael le Querne, and turned eastward into Chepe. The breadth
of this great market had contracted since the reign of Edward the
Third. The houses on the south side were much higher and better built,
with timber frames and much carving and gilding. On the north side
the lanes, which were formerly broad spaces for stands and sheds for
the market, were now narrow, with houses on either hand: there were
also houses on that side, but not continuous; here were Grocers’ Hall
and Mercers’ Hall. Round the Standard and the Cross were stalls kept
by women; the poulterers still had their shops in the Poultry, and
apothecaries sold their drugs and herbs in Bucklersbury.

It was now evening, and supper time. My guide led me to the tavern
called the Rose, in the Poultry. There was a goodly company assembled
in the great room. Here there was music, and the drawers ran about
with supper and with wine. A capon with a flask of Malmsey warmed the
heart of my old guide. After supper we took tobacco and more wine,
while boys sang madrigals very sweetly. The close of a summer day in
the City of London brings with it a cessation of the noise of hammers
and the ringing of anvils and the grinding of waggons and the shouts of
those who quarrel over their work. The City became quiet; there was the
tinkling of guitar and lute from the taverns and the houses; the voices
of those who sang; the merry laugh of maidens, and the sober voice of
age.

“Come,” said Stow, “there remains the Royal Exchange. This we will see
and so an end until to-morrow.”

The Royal Exchange was lit up with candles. The upper walk or
_pawne_[4] I found to be a collection of shops, all as light as day.
Music was playing and the place was full of people; not the sober
merchants, but the City madams and their daughters, the gallants, and
the ’prentices. “In the summer,” said Stow, “the place is open till
nine of the clock, in the winter till ten. Many come here just as they
go to Paul’s in the morning, because they have no other place to go to
and no money to spend in the tavern. Know you not the lines?

    ‘Though little coin thy purseless pockets line,
      Yet with great company thou’st taken up;
    For often with Duke Humphrey thou dost dine;
      And often with Sir Thomas Gresham sup.’”

Other walks, many other walks, I have taken about London in company
of good old John Stow: we have walked together along Thames Street,
which is surely the very heart of the City, and in Chepe, and among
the gardens of the northern part. In these walks about the streets,
even then so old and so venerable, the old man waxed eloquent over the
houses of the past where the great nobles had each his palace, which
was also a barrack in the City of London. It was not only in and about
Thames Street: all over the City he led me, prattling in his kindly
garrulity. “There were kings’ palaces here once,” he said: “the Tower
Royal where Richard’s mother dwelt; and the King’s Wardrobe—I can show
you that; and Baynard’s Castle, which is now rebuilt and remains a
noble house; and Crosby Hall, where the third Richard sojourned for a
while; and the Stone House in Lombard Street that they call King John’s
Palace, but I know not with what truth; and Cold Harbour where Prince
Hal once lived; and the Savoy which was John of Gaunt’s. And there
were the town houses of the noblemen. What a stately house was that of
the Northumberlands outside Aldgate! It is now a printing-house. And
they had another house in Aldgate Ward with broad gardens, now turned
into bowling-greens. And there is the house called the Erber on the
east side of Dowgate. The Earl of Warwick had it, then the Duke of
Clarence had it, and when it was rebuilt Francis Drake had it. There is
Gresham’s Mansion in Broad Street, which has become a noble college for
the instruction of youths in the liberal arts, so that some say that
London will become like unto Oxford or Cambridge. And Whittington’s
house beside the church of St. Michael, now an almshouse, which was
once also a college for priests. And there is the house which once
belonged to Sir Robert Large, when Caxton was his ’prentice, at the
corner of Old Jewry; formerly it was a Jews’ Synagogue, and afterwards
the House of the Brethren of the Sack. Alas! most of these houses
are now in decay and inhabited by poor folk. The nobles come no more
to town.” Yet he showed me the house of Sir Francis Walsingham, the
Queen’s Secretary. It was in Seething Lane. “We look for these palaces
now, along the river, between Bridewell and Westminster,” he said.

[Illustration: WEST CHEPE IN ELIZABETHAN LONDON]

My old guide looked at the people as they passed with a peculiar
benevolence, especially upon the young. “I have myself been a
’prentice,” he said; “I know the rubs and crosses of that time; an
impatient master, long hours of work, hard fare, hot blood that longs
to be up and doing. Many there are who have in their latter days broken
their indentures and fled to sail the seas with Oxenham or Drake; many
have gone into the service of the adventurous Companies. I remember
very well, very well,” he sighed, “the joys of the time, the dancing
on a summer evening, the wrestling, the fighting, the pageants and
ridings in the streets. Life lies all before the ’prentice. What boots
it to be my Lord Mayor when life is wellnigh spent?”

“Sir,” my guide added, “I have shown you our City. Go now, alone, and
watch the ways of the people: mark the wealth of our merchants; look at
the Port crowded with ships and the Quays cumbered with merchandise;
talk with the mariners, and observe the spirit that is in them all.
Like all old men I lament the past; but I needs must rejoice in the
quickening of these latter days. And so, good sir, farewell.”

[Illustration: A VIEW OF COLD HARBOUR IN THAMES STREET, ABOUT 1600]




                              CHAPTER II

                         CONTEMPORARY EVIDENCE


Let us supplement this discourse by contemporary evidence.

There is an anonymous map of London in the sixteenth century called
“Londinium Feracissimi Angliæ Regni Metropolis.” It is in some respects
more exact than the better known map attributed to Agas. The streets,
gardens, and fields are laid down with greater precision, and there is
no serious attempt to combine, as Agas does, a picture, or a panorama,
with a map. At the same time, the surveyor has been unable to resist
the fashion of his time to consider the map as laid down from a
bird’s-eye view, so that he thinks it necessary to give something of
elevation.

I will take that part of the map which lies outside the walls. The
precinct of St. Katherine stands beside the Tower with its chapel,
court, and gardens; there are a few houses near it, apparently
farmhouses; the convent of Eastminster had entirely vanished. Nothing
indicates the site of the Nunnery in the Minories; yet there were ruins
of these buildings standing here till the end of the last century;
outside Bishopsgate houses extended past St. Mary Spital, some of whose
buildings were still, apparently, standing. On the west side St. Mary
of Bethlehem stood, exactly on the site of Liverpool Street Station,
but not covering nearly so large an area; it appears to have occupied a
single court and was probably what we should now consider a very pretty
little cottage, like St. Edmund’s Hall, Oxford.

Outside Cripplegate the houses begin again, leaving, between, the
lower Moorfields dotted with ponds; there are houses lining the road
outside Aldersgate. The courts are still standing of St. Bartholomew’s
Priory, Charter House, St. John’s Priory, and the Clerkenwell Nunnery;
Smithfield is surrounded with houses; Bridewell with its two square
courts stands upon the river bank; Fleet Street is irregular in shape,
the houses being nowhere in line; the courts of Whitefriars are still
remaining. The Strand has all its great houses facing the river; their
backs open upon a broad street with a line of mean houses on the north
side. On the south of the river there is a line of houses on the High
Street; a line of houses along the river bank on either side; and
another one running near Bermondsey Abbey.

Within the walls we observe that some of the Religious Houses have
quite disappeared; Crutched Friars, for instance; there is a vacant
space which is probably one of the courts of St. Helen’s; the Priory
of the Holy Trinity preserves its courts, but there is no sign of
the church; there are still visible the courts and gardens of Austin
Friars; there is still the great court of the Grey Friars; but the
buildings of Blackfriars seem to have vanished entirely.

[Illustration: BRIDEWELL PALACE AND THE ENTRANCE TO THE FLEET RIVER AS
THEY APPEARED IN 1660

E. Gardner’s Collection.]

But Sir Thomas More has left us a description of London in his time. It
is a description in terms too vague, yet interesting. He calls the City
Amaurote and the Thames he calls the Anyder.

“The River Anyder riseth four and twenty miles above Amaurote, out of
a little spring: but being increased by other small floods and brooks
that run into it: and, among others, two somewhat bigger ones. Before
the City, it is half a mile broad (hardly so much now as it was in
former days being pent in and straitned to a narrower space, by the
later buildings on each side): and further, broader. By all that space
that lyeth between the Sea and the City, and a good sort of land also
above, the water ebbs and flows six hours together, with a swift tide;
when the sea flows in to the length of thirty miles, it fills all the
Anyder with salt water, and drives back the fresh water of the river;
and somewhat further, it hangeth the sweetness of fresh water with
saltness: but a little beyond that, the river waxeth sweet, and runneth
foreby the City fresh and pleasant; and when the sea ebbs and goes back
again, this fresh water follows it almost to the very fall into the sea.

[Illustration: LONDINIUM FERACISSIMI ANGLIÆ REGNI METROPOLIS]

They have also another river, which indeed is not very great, but it
runneth gently and pleasantly: for it riseth even out of the same hill
that the City standeth upon, and runneth down slope through the midst
of the City into Anyder.” [This may be the river of the Wells; in
More’s time the Walbrook was probably covered over.] “And because it
ariseth a little without the City, the Amaurotians have enclosed the
head spring of it with strong fences and bulwarks; and so have joined
it to the City: this done, to the intent that the waters should not be
stopped nor turned away, nor poisoned, if their enemies should chance
to come upon them. From thence the water is derived and brought down in
Chanals or Brooks divers ways into the lower parts of the City. Where
that cannot be done by reason that the place will not suffer it, then
they gather the Rain Water in great Cisterns which doth them as good
service.” [This, it seems, was all the supply of Water the City had in
that age, which is now much more plentifully served.] “Then next for
the situation and Walls. That it stood by the side of a low Hill, in
fashion almost square. The breadth of it began a little beneath the
top of the Hill, and still continued by the space of two miles, until
it came to the river Anyder. The length of it, which lyeth by the
river-side, was somewhat more.

The City is compassed about with an high and thick wall, full of
Turrets and Bulwarks. A dry Ditch, but deep and broad and overgrown
with bushes, briers, and thorns, goeth about three sides or quarters of
the City. To the fourth side, the River itself serveth for a Ditch.

The streets be appointed and set forth very commodious and handsome,
both for carriage and also against the winds. The Streets be full
twenty foot broad. The Houses be of fair and gorgeous Buildings: and in
the street-side, they stand joined together in a long Row through the
whole Street, without any partition or separation. On the bankside of
the Houses, through the whole length of the Street, lye large Gardens
which be closed in round about with the back parts of the Street. Every
House hath two doors, one to the street, and a Postern Door on the
backside into the Garden. These doors be made with two leaves, never
locked nor bolted: so easie to be opened, that they will follow the
least drawing of a finger, and shut again of themselves.

[Illustration: PLAN OF THE CITY OF WESTMINSTER IN THE TIME OF ELIZABETH]

[Illustration: PLAN OF THE CITY OF LONDON IN THE TIME OF ELIZABETH]

They set great store by their gardens. In these they have Vineyards
and all manner of Fruits, Herbs, and Flowers, so pleasant, so well
furnished, and so finely kept, that I never saw anything more fruitful,
nor better trimmed in any place: and their study and diligence
herein cometh not only of pleasure, but also of a certain strife
and contention that is betwixt street and street, concerning the
trimming, husbanding, and flourishing, of their Gardens, every man
for his own part: and verily, you shall not lightly find in all the
City anything that is more commodious, either for the Profit of the
Citizens, or for pleasure. And therefore it may seem, that the first
founder of the City minded nothing so much as he did these Gardens.
They say, that King Utopus himself, even at his first beginning,
appointed and drew forth the platform of the City into this fashion and
figure that it hath now, by his gallant garnishing and the beautiful
setting forth of it. Whereunto he saw that one man’s age would not
suffice, that he left to his posterity.

Their Chronicles, which they keep written with all diligent
circumspection, containing the history of 1760 years, even from the
first conquest of the Island, record and witness, that the Houses
in the beginning were very low, and likely homely cottages, or poor
shepherds’ houses, made at all adventures of every rude piece of wood
that came first to hand: with Mud-walls, and ridged Roofs thatched over
with straw. But now the Houses be curiously builded after a gorgeous
and gallant sort, with three stories, one over another.

The outside of the walls be made of either hard Flint, or of Plaister,
or else of Brick: and the Inner-sides be well strengthened with
Timber-Work.

The Roofs be plain and flat, covered with a certain kind of Plaister
that is of no cost: and yet so tempered that no fire can hurt or perish
it: and notwithstandeth the violence of the weather, better than any
lead.

They keep the wind out of their windows with glass: for it is there
much used: and some were also with fine linnen dipped in oyl or amber:
and that for two commodities: for by this means more light cometh in,
and the wind is better kept out.” (_Utopia._)

The following notes on England were written by one Stephen Perlin in
1558. The tract was translated for, and published in, the _Antiquarian
Repertory_ (vol. iv.):—

“The English in general are cheerful and great lovers of music, for
there is no church, however small, but has musical service performed in
it. They are likewise great drunkards; for if an Englishman would treat
you, he will say in his language, _yis dring a quarta rim gasquim cim
hespaignol, oim malvoysi_; that is, will you drink a quart of Gascoigne
wine, another of Spanish, and another Malmsy. In drinking or eating
they will say to you above an hundred times, _drind iou_, which is, I
am going to drink to you; and you should answer them in their language,
_iplaigiu_, which means, I pledge you. If you would thank them in their
language you must say, _god tanque artelay_, which is to say, I thank
you with all my heart. When they are drunk, they will swear blood and
death that you shall drink all that is in your cup, and will say thus
to you, _bigod sol drind iou agoud oin_. Now remember, if you please,
that in this land they commonly make use of silver vessels when
they drink wine, and they will say to you at table, _goud chere_, which
is good cheer. The servants wait on their master bareheaded, and leave
their caps on the buffet. It is to be noted, that in this excellent
kingdom there is, as I have said, no kind of order; the people are
reprobates, and thorough enemies to good manners and letters, for they
don’t know whether they belong to God or the Devil, which St. Paul had
reprehended in so many people, saying, be not transported with divers
sorts of winds, but be constant and steady to your belief.

[Illustration: REFERENCES.

  _1. The first S^T. GILES CHURCH._

  _2. Remains of the Walls, antiently enclosing the Hospital
  precincts._

  _3. Site of the Gallows and afterwards of the Pound._

  _4. Way to Uxbridge. now OXFORD S^T._

  _5._ ELDE-STRATE, _since called HOG-LANE_.

  _6._ LE-LANE _now MONMOUTH S^T._

  _7. Site of the_ SEVEN DIALS _formerly called COCK and PYE FIELDS_.

  _8._ ELM CLOSE _since called LONG-ACRE_.

  _9. Site of_ LINCOLNS INN FIELDS _formerly called FICKETS-FIELDS_.

                              A VIEW
                _of part of the Northwest Suburbs_
                            OF LONDON,
                   _as they appeared, anno 1570.
               Including the whole of the parish of
                     S^T. GILES in the FIELDS
               and its immediate Neighbourhood, its_
                        PAROCHIAL CHURCHES,
                _erected at different periods &c._

          THE PARISH OF S^t. Giles in the Fields, LONDON.

_The part of the North West Suburbs of London, since called Saint
Giles’s, was about the time of the Norman Conquest an un-built tract of
country, or but thinly scattered with habitations.—The parish derived
its name if not its origin from the ancient Hospital for Lepers, which
was built on the site of the present church by MATILDA queen of King
Henry I. and dedicated to Saint Giles: before which time there had only
been a small Chapel or Oratory on the spot.—It is described in old
records, as abounding with gardens and dwellings in the flourishing
times of Saint Giles’s Hospital but declined in population and
buildings after the suppression of that establishment, and remained
but an inconsiderable village till the end of the reign of Elizabeth,
after which period it was rapidly built on, and became distinguished
for the number and rank of its inhabitants. The great increase of S^t.
Giles’s Parish occasioned the separation of S^t. George’s Bloomsbury
Parish from it anno 1734.—The above view (which is partly supplied by
the great Plan of London by Ralph Aggas, and partly from authorities
furnished by parochial documents) was taken anno 1570._]

In this country, all the shops of every trade are open, like those
of the barbers in France, and have many glass windows, as well below
as above in the chambers, for in the chambers there are many glazed
casements, and that in all the tradesmen’s houses in almost every town;
and those houses are like the barbers’ shops in France, as well above
as below, and glazed at their openings. In the windows, as well in
cities as villages, are plenty of flowers, and at the taverns plenty of
hay upon their wooden floors, and many cushions of tapestry, on which
travellers seat themselves. There are many bishopricks in this kingdom,
as I think sixteen, and some archbishopricks, of which one is esteemed
the principal, which is Cantorbie, called in English Cantorberi, where
there is a very fine church, of which St. Thomas is patron. England
is remarkable for all sorts of fruits, as apricots, peaches, and
quantities of nuts.”

In the year 1598 a German traveller, Paul Hentzner by name, visited
London. This is what he says about the streets:—

“The streets in this city are very handsome and clean; but that which
is named from the goldsmiths who inhabit it, surpasses all the rest:
there is in it a gilt tower, with a fountain that plays. Near it on the
farther side is a handsome house, built by a goldsmith, and presented
by him to the city. There are besides to be seen in this street, as in
all others where there are goldsmiths’ shops, all sorts of gold and
silver vessels exposed to sale, as well as ancient and modern medals,
in such quantities as must surprise a man the first time he sees and
considers them.” (_See_ Appendix VI.)

Stow furnishes a very clear account of the condition of the suburbs in
his own time. Thus, he says that outside the Wall in the East there
were no houses at all east of St. Katherine’s along the river until the
middle of the sixteenth century, but that during the latter half of
the century there had sprung up a “continual street, or filthy strait
passage, with alleys of small tenements built, inhabited by sailors;
victuallers, along by the river of Thames, almost to Ratcliff, a good
mile from the Tower.”

He says, further, that in his time had arisen quite a new suburb
between East Smithfield and Limehouse; and that good houses had been
recently built between Ratcliff and Blackwall.

Outside Aldgate he mentions a “large street replenished with buildings
to Hog Lane and the bars. Without the bars both sides of the street
were ‘pestered’ with cottages and alleys, even up to Whitechapel
Church and almost half a mile beyond it into the common field.” Note,
therefore, that close to Aldgate, just beyond Whitechapel Church, was a
common which was thus encroached upon and settled on by squatters and
by those who made enclosures and placed laystalls, etc., upon them.
The whole of the common was thus taken up; “in some places it scarce
remaineth a sufficient highway for the meeting of carriages and droves
of people,” a fact to be remembered and accounted for.

[Illustration: BISHOPSGATE]

Going on to Bishopsgate and its highway. Outside the gate stood St.
Botolph’s Church; next to it the Hospital of St. Mary of Bethlehem;
opposite certain houses; then, the liberty of Norton Folgate, belonging
to the canons of St. Paul’s; then the site of the Holywell Nunnery;
all along the road to St. Leonard’s, Shoreditch, except for the site
of St. Mary Spital, a “continual building of small and base tenements,
for the most part lately erected.” Among the cottages Stow points to a
certain row whose history was perhaps that of many others. The row of
cottages were almshouses belonging to St. Mary Spital; the occupants
were appointed by that House; they paid a yearly rent of one penny, in
acknowledgment of ownership; and on Christmas Day they were feasted by
the Prior. When the Hospital was suppressed the cottages, for want of
repairs, fell into decay; the new owners of the land would not take
over the responsibility of the charitable endowment; they neither
repaired the houses nor did they invite the tenants to a Christmas
feast. On the other hand, they did not collect the rent of a penny.
They were then sold, although they ought to have been continued as
almhouses to one Russell, who rebuilt them and gave them his own name,
and let them to tenants in the usual way.

The church of St. Leonard’s contained monuments to the memory of three
noble families at least: the Westmoreland Nevilles; the Blounts, Lords
Mountjoy; and that of Manners, Earls of Rutland. The reason of their
tombs and monuments being found in the church must be sought in the
history of the manors lying north of Shoreditch.

[Illustration: PLAN OF ISLINGTON

From a print in the British Museum. By the courtesy of the late Marquis
of Salisbury.]

On the north side of the City the Moor Fields continued for a long time
as waste ground, seldom visited; in 1415, however, Thomas Fawconer,
Mayor, broke through the City Wall and built the postern called
Moorgate; he constructed causeways over the Moor; cleansed and repaired
the dykes or ditches with which the Moor was intersected: so that the
place was drained and made into a pleasant walk for the citizens,
either on summer evenings, or on their way to Iselden and Hoxton.
Sixty years later brickfields were opened in the Moor, and bricks made
for the repair of the City Wall. Then citizens began to make and to
enclose gardens in the Moor; in 1498 these were all taken away and an
archery-field made in their place. In 1512 more dykes were made for the
drainage of the Moor, and in 1527 conduits were constructed to carry
the waters over the Tower Ditch into the Walbrook. The point is that in
the sixteenth century the whole of the ground lying between Moorgate
and Bishopsgate was unoccupied by houses. The map already referred to
shows the road running north from Moorgate, and the Moor itself crossed
by causeways: in the east a broad ditch crossed by bridges falls into
the Tower Ditch.

The Moor formerly extended beyond Cripplegate and as far as the Fleet
River; it was built upon by the Religious Houses; St. Bartholomew’s
Priory and Hospital; the Charter House; the Priory of St. John; and
the Nunnery of Clerkenwell. Between these houses and the wall were St.
Giles’s Church, St. Botolph’s Church, Fore Street, Whitecross Street,
and other streets, making a suburb with a population in the sixteenth
century of 1800 householders, or 9000 souls. The last bit of the Moor
left on the north-west of the City was brickfield.

We now come to the western suburb: the earliest settled and the most
thickly populated of all. Fleet Street and the streets north of it,
however, belonged to the Ward of Farringdon Without.

We are now in a position to show other reasons why the extension of the
City was so slow and so limited.

All round the City lay manors and estates belonging for the most part
to the Church. St. Paul’s Cathedral possessed a great many of these
manors; the Bishop possessed many; St. Peter’s, Westminster, possessed
many. Finsbury, Shoreditch, Hoxton, Iselden, St. Pancras, Willesden,
belonged to St. Paul’s. The manor of St. Peter stretched all the way
from Millbank to the Fleet River, and from the Thames to Holborn. These
estates belonged to the Church; when the City received the County of
Middlesex to farm, it did not receive these manors, and the owners had
their rights. Foremost among these rights was that they were outside
the jurisdiction of the City; the land could not be built upon without
permission of the owners; what the City got was the inclusion of that
part of the land outside the Wall which was bounded and defined by
the Bars: that is to say, it included, without the Wall—(1) The Ward
of Portsoken, formerly the lands of the Cnihten Gild; (2) The Common
Land of Whitechapel; (3) The Common Land of the Moor as far as to the
Fleet River, and (4) The Ward of Farringdon Without. Why did it go no
farther? Because at every point beyond these limits the manors of the
Church were met. At first the encroachments of the City authorities
into the manors met with no opposition; perhaps the ecclesiastics felt
that it was well to have the people on their lands well governed; on
one occasion the City acquired rights by taking a manor on lease, as
that of Mora di Halliwell in 1315. In other cases the ecclesiastics
interfered and made it impossible for more houses to be built on their
lands, save on their own terms, and without acknowledgment by the City
Authority.

For these reasons, therefore,—the limited jurisdiction of the City; the
steady opposition of the ecclesiastical owners of the manors outside;
and the slow growth of the population,—there was little increase save
in the direction of Bishopsgate Street Without, where the City had a
lease of the manor, until the Dissolution of the Religious Houses and
the change of owners in the manors.




                              CHAPTER II

                             THE CITIZENS


There was never a time when the sober citizen was more sober, more
responsible, more filled with a sense of his authority and dignity.
“The man,” says the wise king, “who is diligent in business shall stand
before princes.”

[Illustration: EARL OF SOMERSET AND HIS WIFE

From a print in the British Museum.]

They did stand before princes, these merchants of London; as their
prosperity leaped up increasingly year after year, they became the
creditors, at least, of princes, for Elizabeth borrowed freely and
repaid unwillingly—yet in spite of this too notorious weakness, she
retained to the end the deepest affection of her people.

It has been a matter of reproach to the City that it seemed at this
time wholly given over to trade and the interests of trade. To reproach
a city which has always been a trading city with caring chiefly for the
interests of trade seems somewhat unreasonable. But is it true that
London has ever been wholly devoted to trade? I cannot find such a time
in the whole long history of the City: certainly not in the reign of
Elizabeth, when London cheerfully raised her men and her ships for the
repulse of the Armada; and cheerfully gave the Queen whatever money she
asked for; at the same time, while trade became larger than before,
while the individual merchants became of more importance, the City
certainly lost some of its political importance and was less dreaded,
while it was more caressed, by the Sovereign.

It was, moreover, with the better class, a deeply religious age;
men were not afraid or ashamed of proclaiming, or of showing, their
religion. When Francis Drake saw the Atlantic on one side and the
Pacific on the other, he fell on his knees in the sight of the company
and prayed aloud, that God would suffer him to sail upon that unknown
sea: if a cutpurse was hanged, he never failed to make a moving speech,
deeply religious, while on the ladder. All classes preserved as yet the
Catholic practice of going often to church; they studied the Bible;
they made their ’prentices attend services; they listened patiently
to sermons; doctrine was considered a vital point. By the end of the
sixteenth century those who favoured the old Faith were either dead
or silenced; to the common people the old Faith meant a return to the
flames in Smithfield; torture at the hands of the Spanish Inquisition
if any should haply fall into Spanish hands; and slavery under the
Spanish King should he achieve the conquest of the country; whereas the
new Faith meant freedom of thought, increased wealth, advancing trade,
fighting the Spaniard and capturing the Spanish galleons. Religion,
therefore, was allied with prosperity.

I have spoken of the sober guise of the London merchant. That sober
guise belonged to the places where the merchant was mostly found: to
the Royal Exchange, for instance, or Thames Street, beside the quays
and warehouses. We must not think that there was no longer brightness
of colour and even splendour in the streets. The rich liveries of the
great nobles were chiefly seen on the river—remember that the front
of the Palace faced the river, that the back belonged to the Strand,
and that the river was London’s principal highway. Their varlets
lolled about on the river stairs or escorted their master in his
barge, but hardly belonged to the City. A Court gallant was dressed
as extravagantly as he could afford, or as his estate would bear. He
carried manors on his back, broad acres in his velvet cloak, with
golden buckles and lace trimming, a year’s rents in his fantastic
doublet slashed and puffed, in his silken hose, in his splendid sword,
his scabbard and the handle set with gold, in his rings, his scents,
his gloves and in his chains. But the Court gallant seldom showed on
Thames Street.

In Norman and Plantagenet London there were no shops, nor was there
anything sold in the streets except in the market-places, and the
streets set aside for retail trade. But in the Tudor time Street Cries
had already begun. We find, for instance, the following pleasant
verses:—

        “Who liveth so merry in all this land
        As doth the poor widow that selleth the sand?
        And ever shee singeth as I can guesse,
        Will you buy any sand, any sand, mistress?

        The broom-man maketh his living most sweet,
        With carrying of broomes from street to street;
        Who would desire a pleasanter thing,
        Than all the day long to doe nothing but sing?

        The chimney-sweeper all the long day,
        He singeth and sweepeth the soote away;
        Yet when he comes home altho’ he be weary,
        With his sweet wife he maketh full merry.

        The cobbler he sits cobbling till none,
        And cobbleth his shoes till they be done;
        Yet doth he not feare, and so doth say,
        For he knows his worke will soone decay.

        Who liveth so merry and maketh such sport
        As those that be of the poorest sort?
        The poorest sort wheresoever they be,
        They gather together by one, two, and three.

    Broomes for old shoes! pouch-rings, bootes and buskings!
      Will yee buy any new broomes?
    New oysters! new oysters! new new cockels!
      Cockels nye! fresh herrings! Will yee buy any straw?
        Hay yee any kitchen stuffe, maides?
      Pippins fine, cherrie ripe, ripe, ripe!
                Cherrie ripe! etc.

                Hay any wood to cleave?
                Give eare to the clocke!
                Beware your locke!
                Your fire and your light!
                And God give you good night!
                        One o’clocke!”

Sumptuary laws were constantly renewed and continually broken. Yet the
mass of the people obeyed the unwritten law by which a man’s station
was shown by his dress. For more on this subject see the Chapter on
Dress.

The ordering of the household was strict. Early hours were kept; in
summer servants and apprentices were up at five; in winter at six
or seven; there were rules as to attendance at morning and evening
prayers; there was to be no quarrelling; no striking; no profane
language.

It is said that coaches were introduced in this reign; but there had
always been coaches, _i.e._ wheeled conveyances of a kind. Such a
carriage, belonging to the fourteenth century, is figured in J. J.
Jusserand’s _English Wayfaring Life in the Middle Ages_—a cumbrous
unwieldy thing, yet still a coach. What really happened in this century
was the introduction of a much more convenient kind of coach from
Holland.

Stow laments the mud and the splashing in the streets. “The coachman
rideth behind the horse tails, lasheth them, and looketh not behind
him; the drayman sitteth and sleepeth on his dray and letteth his horse
lead him home.” Most of the City streets, however, were so narrow and
so much obstructed by houses standing out, for as yet there was no
alignment except in streets like Chepe, which were highways and market
streets, that no wheeled vehicle could pass at all.

[Illustration: SHOP AND SOLAR, CLARE MARKET, NOW DEMOLISHED

From a photograph taken in 1895.]

There was very little more lighting at night than there had been in the
preceding centuries. If a London dame ventured out of the house after
dark, the ’prentice carried a link before her. Some of the old shops or
sheds with “solars” over them remained in Stow’s time; the last of them
stood in Clare Market, and was pulled down a few years ago. See the
accompanying photograph of it. Stow says that stalls had become sheds,
_i.e._ roofed stalls; and then shops, _i.e._ enclosed stalls; and then
“fair houses.” He instances a block of houses called Goldsmiths’ Row,
between Bread Street and the Cross, which contained ten dwelling-houses
and fourteen shops, “all in one frame, uniformly built.” They were four
stories high. The shops seem to have been open, but perhaps the upper
part was protected with a shutter or with glass.

Inland communication was conducted by means of carts and coaches.
Harrison[5] complains of the new fashion: “Our Princes and the
Nobilitie have their cariage commonlie made by carts, wherby it commeth
to passe that when the Queene’s Majestie dooth remove from anie one
place to another, there are usuallie 400 carewanes, which amount to the
summe of 2400 horses, appointed out of the counties adjoining, whereby
hir cariage is conveied safelie unto the appointed place. Hereby also
the ancient use of sumpter horses is in maner utterlie relinquished,
which causeth the traines of our princes in their progresses to shew
far lesse than those of the kings of other nations.”

During this long reign, in spite of plague and pestilence, the
population of London increased, and the suburbs extended, as we have
seen, in all directions. The increase of population was due (1) to
the increase of trade in London, which required a great accession of
ship-builders, boat-builders, makers of the various gear required for
ships, seamen, lightermen, porters, stevedores, and the like; (2) to
the large number of immigrants from France and the Low Countries; and
(3) to the number of persons released from the Religious Houses. That
is to say, this last is generally represented as one of the causes. To
me it seems as if the influence of these people on the population of
London must be regarded as quite insignificant. There were some 8000
monks, nuns, and friars who were sent into the world. Many of those who
were in priests’ orders obtained places in parish churches, conforming
by degrees to the changes of doctrine; the monks and nuns had pensions;
many of the latter went abroad; of the friars many were absorbed in the
general population; a certain number, one knows not how many, refused
to work, and joined the company of rogues and masterless men, but there
seems nothing to show how many of them settled in London.

Here is a simple calculation of the population in 1564. There was a
great plague in that year. The total number of deaths in the City for
the year is stated to have been 23,660, of whom 20,136 died of plague.
This leaves 3524 deaths from ordinary causes. Now, if the average
mortality of the City was twenty in the thousand, we should have a
population of 176,200. If, which is more likely, the average mortality
was twenty-five in the thousand the population was 140,960. In the time
of King James, but after much devastation by the plague, the population
of London was estimated at 130,000.

[Illustration: TOTTENHAM COURT

By the courtesy of the late Marquis of Salisbury.

For further particulars regarding this plan see Appendix XI.]

It has been said that there is no street in London in which one cannot
find a church and a tree. It is indeed remarkable to observe the
large number of trees still existing and flourishing in the City of
London, especially since the City churchyards have been converted into
gardens. Of the old private gardens there are now left but few: one
in St. Helen’s Place; one behind the Rectory of St. Andrew’s by the
Wardrobe; the Drapers’ Gardens, much curtailed; and the churchyards
above mentioned, which have been converted into gardens. In the
sixteenth century, however, London was still full of gardens, in the
north part of the City much more than in the south. Every house had
its garden behind; for the most part narrow, yet carefully cultivated
and full of trees and flowers. If you take the part of London that
has been least meddled with, the north-west corner of the City, for
instance—that part bounded by London Wall on the North; by Monkwell
and Noble Streets on the West; by Gresham Street on the South; and by
Moorgate on the East—you will find that the blocks between the older
streets are intersected everywhere by courts, alleys, narrow lanes and
buildings. These were all, including the ancient churches, taken out
of the gardens. Formerly, for instance, between Basinghall Street and
Coleman Street there were very long gardens behind the houses; these
have been used for lanes of connection, and for workmen’s houses, such
as Lilypot Lane and Oat Lane. Hidden away behind the houses is Sadler’s
Hall; here also, hidden away behind houses, is Haberdashers’ Hall; here
were the courtyards of inns, which formed among the gardens convenient
ground for their great open courts and their stables. In this way the
gardens of London gradually disappeared. In the sixteenth century,
however, there were a great many still left: London presented an
appearance of greenery and waving branches wherever one turned off the
main roads. The chief authority on the gardens of the time is Harrison,
who tells us what herbs, fruits, and roots were then grown, as well as
the medicinal plants then so much cultivated.

Harrison[6] says, speaking of the flower gardens:—

  “If you look into our gardens annexed to our houses, how
  wonderfullie is their beauty increased, not onelie with floures
  which Colmella calleth _Terrena sydera_, saying, ‘Pingit et in
  varios terrestria sydera flores,’ and varietie of curious and
  costlie workmanship, but also with rare and medicinable hearbes
  sought up in the land within these fortie yeares; so that in
  comparison of this present, the ancient gardens were but dunghills
  and laistowes to such as did possess them.

  And even as it fareth with our gardens so dooth it with our
  orchards, which were never furnished with so good fruit, nor with
  such varietie as at this present. For beside that we have most
  delicate apples, plummes, peares, walnuts, filberds, etc., and
  those of sundrie sorts, planted within fortie yeares passed, in
  comparison of which most of the old trees are nothing woorth; so
  have we no less store of strange fruit, as abricotes, almonds,
  peaches, figges, corne-trees in noblemen’s orchards. I have seen
  capers, orenges, and lemmons, and heard of wild olives growing
  here, beside other strange trees, brought from far, whose names I
  know not. So that England for these commodities was never better
  furnished, neither anie nation under their clime more plentifullie
  indued with these and other blessings from the most high God, who
  grant us grace withall to use the same to His honour and glorie!
  and not as instruments and provocations unto further excesse and
  vanitie, wherewith His displeasure may be kindled, least these
  His benefits doo turne unto thornes and briers unto us for our
  annoiance and punishment which He hath bestowed upon us for our
  consolation and comfort.”

The London garden was not only a place of recreation in the summer;
it also furnished flowers for the pretty custom of decorating the
rooms and strewing the floors; the gardens furnished pot herbs for
the kitchen and sweet herbs for the walls and floors; branches also
of fragrant woods, such as fir and pine, were hung up on the walls. I
know not if this is a common custom still maintained in America; but
in Hawthorne’s house at Concord the rooms are still decorated and made
fragrant with branches of pine such as the writer used in his lifetime.
The floor of the great hall was strewn with rushes, brought chiefly
from the upper reaches and low-lying grounds of the river. These rushes
were of various kinds: some of them were grasses, such as that called
mat-weed, of which beds were made as well as floors strewn.

The chief authorities on the London garden are Bacon in his _Essays_,
and Gerard in his _Herbal_. Francis Bacon wrote his essays in Gray’s
Inn, whose garden he laid out and planted by request of the Benchers.
His essay on the garden was written, as he says himself, for the
climate of London.

  “And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where
  it comes and goes like the warbling of music) than in the hand,
  therefore nothing is more fit for that delight than to know what
  be the flowers and plants that do best perfume the air. Roses,
  damask and red, are fast flowers of their smells, so that you may
  walk by a whole row of them, and find nothing of their sweetness,
  yea, though it be in a morning’s dew. Bays likewise yield no
  smell as they grow, rosemary little, nor sweet marjoram. That
  which above all others yields the sweetest smell in the air is
  the violet, especially the white double violet, which comes twice
  a year, about the middle of April and about Bartholomew-tide.
  Next to that is the musk-rose; then the strawberry leaves dying,
  which yield a most excellent cordial smell. Then the flower of the
  vines; it is a little dust like the dust of a bent, which grows
  upon the cluster in the first coming forth. Then sweetbriar, then
  wall-flowers, which are very delightful to be set under a parlour
  or lower chamber window. Then pinks and gilliflowers, especially
  the matted pink and clove gilliflowers. Then the flowers of the
  lime-tree. Then the honeysuckles, so they be somewhat afar off; of
  bean-flowers I speak not, because they are field-flowers. But those
  which perfume the air most delightfully, not passed by as the rest,
  but being trodden upon and crushed, are three—that is, burnet, wild
  thyme, and water-mints. Therefore you are to set whole alleys of
  them, to have the pleasure when you walk or tread.”

In Ordish’s _Shakespeare’s London_ will be found an excellent analysis
of Gerard’s _Herbal_ as it deals with the gardens of the City and its
suburbs. In it also is an enumeration of the principal gardens of the
time, especially those of the Inns of Court. To these may be added
the gardens belonging to those of the City Companies whose Halls were
in the north part of the City, and those not yet built over which had
once formed part of the monastic precincts, not to speak of the private
gardens which were in many cases—such as the house of Sir Thomas
Gresham in Broad Street—large and spacious. (_See_ Appendix VII.)

The allusions to London and to City customs in Shakespeare are
numerous, but not, as a rule, instructive. That is to say, he speaks
of streets and places which we know from other sources. The Tower,
the Bridge, Smithfield, Fish Street, St. Magnus Corner, the Savoy,
the Tower Royal (King Richard’s Palace), Westminster Hall, Eastcheap,
Bankside, the Temple, Cheapside, London Stone, Baynard’s Castle,
Blackfriars, Paris Garden, are mentioned with the familiarity of one
who lived in the City and knew all the streets intimately. It is
pleasant to find them playing their parts in the immortal plays, but,
as I said above, they teach us nothing.

In 1568, to escape the cruelties of Alva, a vast number of Flemings
came across the sea and were received hospitably. In order to prevent
their arrival proving an injury to the crafts of London, they were
scattered about, finding homes in Norwich, Colchester, Maidstone,
Sandwich, and Southampton, as well as in London. In the next generation
they appear to have been completely merged in the English population,
and the custom, common among persons of foreign descent, of anglicising
their names has made it very difficult to discover the Flemish origin
of a family. The earlier Flemish settlers in England were regarded with
hatred. It would seem that another colony of Flemings came over before
this immigration in the year 1568; they were settled in Suffolk. In
1594 a good many Portuguese came over as retainers to Don Antonio, and
settled here. Among them was the Balthazar who became confectioner to
King James and founded almshouses at Tottenham. There were Italians,
probably connected with the Italian trade, for the “Lombardi,” the
Pope’s men, were gone; they had a service at the Mercers’ Chapel every
Sunday. There were also a great many “Dutch,” among whom were numbered
the Flemings. Thus, in 1567, a census was taken of “foreigners” in
London. There were found to be 4851 altogether, of whom 3838 were
Dutch, and 720 French. A few years later the French Ambassador reports
that there were 13,700 strangers in London, of whom a third were going
to be turned out.

Of the hatred and suspicion entertained towards foreigners by Londoners
we have many proofs. “They scoff and laugh at foreigners,” says the
Duke of Wurtemberg, “and, moreover, one dares not oppose them, else
the street boys and apprentices collect together in immense crowds and
strike to the right and left unmercifully without regard to person.”
Isaac Casaubon in James the First’s reign complained that he had never
been so badly treated as by the people of London: they threw stones
at his windows; they pelted his children and himself with stones. The
Venetian Ambassador of 1497 testifies to the same effect; in 1557 his
successor says that it is impossible to live in London on account of
the insolence with which foreigners are treated.

At the same time it must be remembered that there were quarters
assigned to foreigners, and that the people must have been accustomed
to see these residents going about the streets. Perhaps they were
only insolent to foreign nobles, and those whose dress and language
were not familiar to them. The Hanse merchants had their house beside
Dowgate, Petty Almaigne; the Flemings had theirs on the east side of
the Bridge, Petty Flanders: the French had a place in Bishopsgate Ward
called Petty France. It was in Petty Flanders that certain Jews resided
under the guise of Flemings, just as in the fourteenth century they
passed themselves off as Lombards. The Flemings built the Exchange: it
was designed after the Antwerp Bourse, by a Fleming; the workmen were
specially brought over, and appear to have been unmolested.

[Illustration:

_W Knight del^t._ _J^s. Basire sculp._

INTERIOR VIEW OF QUEEN ELIZABETH’S BATH

From _Archæologia_.]

In February 1831 there was swept away, with all the buildings in the
place called the King’s Mews, where Trafalgar Square now is, a small
building called Queen Elizabeth’s Bath. It was a square building of
fine brick. It was certainly a Bath, and had a groined roof ascribed by
Mr. William Knight who sketched it to the fifteenth century. It was an
interesting building of which nothing seems known. Nobody has noticed
it except a writer in _Archæologia_ (vol. xxv.), who gives a plan
and drawing of the curious place. Like the Sanctuary at Westminster
it would have been entirely forgotten but for the hand of a single
antiquary, who rescued it from oblivion at the last moment.




                   GOVERNMENT AND TRADE OF THE CITY




                               CHAPTER I

                               THE MAYOR


[Illustration: MAYOR AND ALDERMEN OF THE PERIOD

From an MS. in British Museum.]

In the year 1500 a change of some importance was effected by Sir John
Shaw, Mayor of that year. Before his time the civic feasts had been
held at the Hall of the Grocers or the Taylors. Sir John Shaw built
kitchens and offices at the Guildhall and began the custom of holding
the Lord Mayor’s feast in that place.

The election of Sheriffs was formerly conducted by the citizens, who,
by the Charter of King Henry IV., could appoint Sheriffs from their
own body “according to the tenor of the Charters granted by the King’s
progenitors and not in any other way” (_Liber Albus_, p. 148), and
in the first book of the same work the manner of the election of the
Sheriff is described in greater detail (_Liber Albus_, 1861 edition, p.
39):—

“As concerning the election of Sheriffs,—the Mayor, Recorder, Aldermen,
and Commons, are to be assembled on the day of Saint Matthew the
Apostle [21 September], in such manner as is ordained on the election
of the Mayor; and in the first place, the Mayor shall choose, of his
own free will, a reputable man, free of the City, to be one of the
Sheriffs for the ensuing year; for whom he is willing to answer as
to one half of the ferm[7] of the City due to the King, if he who is
so elected by the Mayor shall prove not sufficient. But if the Mayor
elect him by counsel and with the assent of the Aldermen, they also
ought to be answerable with him. And those who are elected for the
Common Council, themselves, and the others summoned by the Mayor for
this purpose, as before declared, shall choose another Sheriff, for the
commonalty; for whom all the commonalty is bound to be answerable as to
the other half of the ferm so due to the King, in case he shall prove
not sufficient.”

The custom is illustrated by the following story concerning the
election of William Massam as Sheriff by Sir Edward Osborne, the Mayor:—

“In this year, one day in the month of July, there were two great
feasts at London, one at Grocers’ Hall, another at Haberdashers’ Hall
(as perhaps there was in all the rest upon some public occasion). Sir
Edward Osborne, Mayor, and divers of his brethren the Aldermen, with
the Recorder, were at Haberdashers’ Hall, where the said Mayor, after
the second course was come in, toke the great standing cup, the gift
of Sir William Garret, being full of hypocrase; and silence being
commanded through all the tables, all men being bare-headed, my Lord
openly with a convenient loud voice, used these words:—‘Mr. Recorder
of London, and you my good brethren the Aldermen, bear witness, that I
do drink unto Mr. Alderman Massam, as Sheriff of London and Middlesex,
from Michaelmas next coming, for one whole year; and I do beseech God
to give him as quiet and peaceable a year, with as good and gracious
favour of her Majesty, as I myself, and my brethren the Sheriffs now
being, have hitherto had, and as I trust shall have.’ This spoken, all
men desired the same.

The Sword-bearer in haste went to the Grocers’ feast, where Mr.
Alderman Massam was at dinner, and did openly declare the words that my
Lord Mayor had used; whereunto silence made, and all being hush, the
Alderman answered very modestly in this sort:—

‘First, I thank God, who, through His great goodness, hath called me
from a very poor and mean degree unto this worshipful state. Secondly,
I thank her Majesty for her gracious goodness in allowing to us these
great and ample franchises. And, thirdly, I thank my Lord Mayor for
having so honourable an opinion of this my Company of Grocers, so as
to make choice of me, being a poor Member of the same.’ And this said,
both he and all the Company pledged my Lord, and gave him thanks.”

The Lord Mayor’s Show in the sixteenth century, conducted partly on
horseback, and partly by water, was a far finer pageant than any
that our generation has been enabled to witness. The following is a
contemporary account:—

“The day of St. Simon and Jude, he (the Mayor) entrethe into his
estate and offyce; and the next daie following he goeth by water to
Westmynster in most tryumphlyke maner. His barge beinge garnished with
the armes of the citie; and nere the sayd barge goeth a shyppbote of
the Queenes Majestie, beinge trymed upp, and rigged lyke a shippe of
warre, with dyvers peces of ordinance, standards, penons, and targetts
of the proper armes of the sayd Mayor, the armes of the Citie, of his
company; and of the merchaunts adventurers, or of the staple, or of
the company of the newe trades; next before hym goeth the barge of
the lyvery of his owne company, decked with their owne proper armes,
then the bachelers’ barge, and soo all the companies in London, in
order, every one havinge their owne proper barge garnished with the
armes of their company. And so passinge alonge the Thamise, landeth at
Westmynster, where he taketh his othe in Thexcheker, beffore the judge
there (whiche is one of the chiefe judges of England), whiche done, he
returneth by water as afforsayd, and landeth at powles wharfe, where
he and the reste of the Aldermen take their horses, and in great pompe
passe through the greate streete of the citie, called Cheapside. And
fyrste of all cometh ij great estandarts, one havinge the armes of
the citie, and the other the armes of the Mayor’s Company; next them
ij drommes and a flute, then an ensigne of the citie, and then about
IXX or IXXX poore men marchinge ij and two togeather in blewe gownes,
with redd sleeves and capps, every one bearinge a pyke and a target,
whereon is paynted the armes of all them that have byn Mayor of the
same company that this newe mayor is of. Then ij banners, one of the
kynges armes, the other of the Mayor’s owne proper armes. Then a sett
of hautboits playinge, and after them certayne wyfflers, in velvett
cotes, and chaynes of golde, with white staves in their handes, then
the pageant of tryumphe rychly decked, whereuppon by certayne fygures
and wrytinges, some matter touchinge justice, and the office of a
maiestrate is represented. Then xvj trompeters, viij and viij in a
company, havinge banners of the Mayor’s company. Then certayne wyfflers
in velvet cotes and chaynes, with white staves as afordsayde. Then the
bachelers ij and two together, in longe gownen, with crymson hoodes
on their shoulders of sattyn; which bachelers are chosen every yeare
of the same company that the Mayor is of (but not of the lyvery) and
serve as gentlemen on that and other festivall daies, to wayte on the
Mayor, beinge in nomber accordinge to the quantetie of the company,
sometimes sixty or one hundred. After them xij trompeters more, with
banners of the Mayor’s company, then the dromme and flute of the citie,
and an ensigne of the Mayor’s company, and after, the waytes of the
citie in blewe gownes, redd sleeves and cappes, every one havinge his
silver coller about his neck. Then they of the liverey in their longe
gownes, every one havinge his hood on his lefte shoulder, halfe black
and halfe redd, the nomber of them is accordinge to the greatnes of the
companye whereof they are. After them followe Sheriffes officers, and
then the Mayor’s officers, with other officers of the citie, as the
comon sargent, and the chamberlayne; next before the Mayore goeth the
sword-bearer, having on his headd the cappe of honor, and the sworde of
the citie in his right hande, in a riche skabarde, sett with pearle,
and on his left hand goeth the comon cryer of the citie, with his great
mace on his shoulder, all gilt. The Mayor elect in a long gowne of
skarlet, and on his lefte shoulder a hood of black velvet, and a riche
coller of gold of SS. about his neck, and with him rydeth the olde
Mayor also, in his skarlet gowne, hood of velvet, and a chayne of golde
about his neck. Then all the Aldermen ij and ij together (amongst whom
is the Recorder) all in skarlet gownes; and those that have byn Mayors,
have chaynes of gold, the other have black velvett tippetts. The ij
Shereffes come last of all, in their black skarlet fownes and chaynes
of golde.

In this order they passe alonge through the citie, to the Guyldhall,
where they dyne that daie, to the number of 1000 persons, all at
the charge of the Mayor and the ij Shereffes. This feast costeth
£400, whereof the Mayor payeth £200 and eche of the Shereffes £100.
Immediately after dyner, they go to the churche of St. Paule, every
one of the aforesaid poore men bearrynge staffe torches and targetts,
whiche torches are lighted when it is late, before they come from
evenynge prayer.” (Drake, _Shakespeare and his Times_, vol. ii. p. 164.)

The very pretty story of Edward Osborne and the rescue of his master’s
daughter is narrated by Maitland as belonging to the year 1559, but the
date does not matter.

Sir William Hewitt, citizen and clothworker, Mayor in 1559, lived
on London Bridge. He was himself the son of a country gentleman of
Yorkshire; he had for apprentice one Edward Osborne, also son of a
country gentleman, Richard Osborne, of Ashford, Kent. Hewitt had three
sons and one daughter. It happened one day, the child being yet an
infant, that the maid playing with her at the open window let her
fall out of the window into the river below. The ’prentice Osborne,
fortunately seeing the accident, boldly jumped into the river and
saved the child. Years after, when the child was grown up, Hewitt, one
of the richest of London merchants, refused to give her in marriage to
the Earl of Shrewsbury and other noble suitors, but gave her to the man
who had saved her life. Sir Edward Osborne, as he afterwards became,
Mayor in 1583, was the ancestor of the Dukes of Leeds.

[Illustration: LONDON BRIDGE

From Visscher’s _Panorama of London_.]

Until recently it was customary for the Lord Mayor to go on Sundays in
state to one or other of the City churches.

On these occasions the Lord Mayor was accompanied by the sheriffs and
officials of the Corporation, and escorted by the mace-bearer and
sword-bearer, the latter wearing the cap of maintenance, and carrying
the state sword. It was usual for the Alderman of the Ward to be
present with any other alderman that pleased to come, and as many as
came brought with them their ward beadles, carrying the ward maces.

Towards the latter part of the sixteenth century the practice of
carrying the sword into church before the Lord Mayor became customary.
It is not clear when this practice first began, but after the Fire of
London and the rebuilding of the City it became the universal custom,
and so continued until a comparatively recent period, when the exodus
of the citizens made it not only inconvenient but an absolute tax upon
the officers of the Corporation if the Lord Mayor attended church in
state with his sword borne before him.

But for the time that it lasted, that is rather more than two
centuries, it necessitated the introduction into the City churches
of a convenient stand or case upon which the City sword was placed.
The State visits of the Lord Mayor having been discontinued in
the mayoralty of Sir Robert Fowler, the consequence is that the
sword-stands have ceased to have any use. Those stands which had
artistic merit will no doubt be preserved.

It may be taken as certain that these sword-cases or stands were not
in use before the reign of Queen Elizabeth. There were many schedules
of ecclesiastical furniture in existence prior to that date, but in
none of them is there any mention of such an article as a sword-case,
or sheath, or stand, although the list of articles is most minute. The
earliest mention is in the Account Books of St. Michael’s, Cornhill,
published by Mr. Alfred I. Waterlow.

Under date 1574, that is, in the sixteenth year of Queen Elizabeth’s
reign, there is the following entry:—

“Paid for guylding of the case for my Lord Mayor’s swearde ... 9s.”

Hawes was a resident in the parish, and was Lord Mayor in the year
1574–1575. He had had a new pew made for him just outside the chancel
screen a year or two before, on his being appointed Alderman of
Cornhill Ward, and the pew was further fitted with a gilded sword-case
on his being made Lord Mayor.

The worthy Machyn has a note on a Civic hunting which reads pleasantly:—

  “The xviij day of September my lord mare and my masters the
  althermen and mony worshephull men, and dyvers of the masturs and
  wardens of the xij compenys, rod to the condutt hedes for to se
  them, after the old coustum; and a fore dener they hundyd and hare
  and kyllyd, and so to dener to the hed of the condyth, for ther was
  a nombur, and had good chere of the chamburlayn; and after dener
  to hontyng of the fox, and ther was a goodly cry for a mylle, and
  after the hondys kyllyd the fox at the end of sant Gylles and theyr
  was a grett cry at the deth, and blohyng of hornes; and so rod
  thrugh London, my lord mare Harper with all ys compene home to ys
  owne plase in Lumberd Street.”




                              CHAPTER II

                                 TRADE


The Tudor period begins with the lowest point reached in town and
country of a decline and decay that had been steadily persistent for
nearly two hundred years. The prosperity of a trading city depends upon
the prosperity of its markets. There were many causes for this decay.
The famines, of which there were four, in the fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries; the Hundred Years’ War; the Civil Wars; the weakness of
the fleet and the piracies in the Channel; the growth of the power of
Parliament and the consequent decay of local independence; the feeble
government of Edward II. and Henry VI.; the fearful devastation of the
Black Death; the changes in the manorial system;—all these things
together contributed to the decay of trade over the whole country. To
quote a writer on the fifteenth century. Denton, in his _England in
the Fifteenth Century_, says that the decay of England commenced soon
after the death of Edward I. It continued, showing an increased rate of
decay, after the death of Edward II.

[Illustration: SOUTH VIEW OF THE CUSTOM-HOUSE IN THE REIGN OF
ELIZABETH. BURNT IN THE GREAT FIRE, 1666

E. Gardner’s Collection.]

The country parishes everywhere, on the northern and the Welsh march,
on the southern seaboard, and in the Eastern Counties, had to be
exempted from payment of taxes on account of poverty; lands were
untilled; there was loss of sheep and cattle; agriculture was at a
standstill for fear of pirates. Or the country parishes were actually
deserted: the people, ruined, had left the farms and the clearings; the
churches were allowed to fall into ruin; Monastic Houses were desolate
and empty because the Brethren had no longer any rents.

In the towns there were open spaces within the walls where houses had
once stood. One has only to visit King’s Lynn in Winchelsea for an
example of this decay.

Even in London, it has been observed, for more than a hundred years
after the Rebellion of Jack Straw there stood in Fleet Street the
blackened ruins of two forges which that rebel’s followers had burned.
In all that time there was not found any who thought it worth while to
rebuild the forge.

In London during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, although the
time was one of commercial decline, there were still rich merchants.
It is in a time of decay that the merchants make complaints of aliens;
that they clamour for protection; that they demand the import and
the export of merchandise in English ships; that they would prohibit
the sending of gold and silver out of the country; let the foreign
merchants be paid in kind.

The melancholy condition of the country at the beginning of the
sixteenth century is described most vividly by Cunningham:—

“There is less mention made of decay in the first thirty years of the
sixteenth century; but the facts were again brought forcibly forward
when the Parliament of Henry VIII. began to put pressure on the
owners of houses to repair their property and to remove the rubbish
that endangered life in the towns. Norwich had never recovered from
the fire of 1508; the empty spaces at Lynn Bishop allowed the sea to
do damage in other parts of the town. Many houses were ruined and
the streets were dangerous for traffic in Nottingham, Shrewsbury,
Ludlow, Bridgenorth, Queenborough, Northampton and Gloucester; there
were vacant spaces heaped with filth, and tottering houses in York,
Lincoln, Canterbury, Coventry, Bath, Chichester, Salisbury, Winchester,
Bristol, Scarborough, Hereford, Colchester, Rochester, Portsmouth,
Poole, Lyme, Feversham, Worcester, Stafford, Buckingham, Pontefract,
Grantham, Exeter, Ipswich, Southampton, Great Yarmouth, Oxford, Great
Wycombe, Guildford, Stratford, Hull, Newcastle, Bedford, Leicester
and Berwick; as well as in Shaston, Sherborne, Bridport, Dorchester,
Weymouth, Plymouth, Barnstaple, Tavistock, Dartmouth, Launceston,
Lostwithiel, Liskeard, Bodmin, Truro, Helston, Bridgewater, Taunton,
Somerton, Ilchester, Maldon and Warwick. There were similar dangers to
the inhabitants of Great Grimsby, Cambridge, the Cinque Ports, Lewes;
and even in the more remote provinces things were as bad, for Chester,
Tenby, Haverfordwest, Pembroke, Caermarthen, Montgomery, Cardiff,
Swansea, Cowbridge, New Radnor, Presteign, Brecknock, Abergavenny,
Usk, Caerlon, Newport in Monmouthshire, Lancaster, Preston, Liverpool
and Wigan, were taken in hand in 1544. In trying to interpret this
evidence, however, we must remember that we are reading of attempts
to repair, not of complaints of new decline; the mere fact that such
attempts were made was perhaps an indication that things had reached
their worst; and we are perhaps justified in inferring from the double
mention of some few towns that a real improvement was effected in the
others.” (_The Growth of English Industry._)

There is thus abundant evidence concerning the decay of trade.
Cunningham speaks of the decay of the craft gilds and their
mismanagement. This may be considered a part of the general decay and
a consequence. At first, the craft gilds exercised police control over
their members and so secured good order; the old authority and power
of the alderman in his ward had been practically taken over by the
gilds; each master had his apprentices living with him and forming part
of his own household. Yet the apprentices made the riot in 1517 long
remembered as Evil May Day. Another of their objects was the production
of honest and good work. Yet in 1437 and again in 1503 it was enacted
that no ruler of gilds or fraternities should make any ordinances which
were not approved by the Chancellor of the Justices of Assize. The
third object was the securing of fair conditions for those who worked
in the trade. Yet consider the grievances of the journeymen in 1536:—

“Previous Acts relating to craft abuses are recited and the statute
proceeds: ‘Sithen which several acts established and made, divers
masters, wardens and fellowships of crafts, have by cautel and subtle
means practised and compassed to defraud and delude the said good and
wholesome statutes, causing divers apprentices or young men immediately
after their years be expired, or that they be made free of their
occupation or fellowship, to be sworn upon their holy Evangelist at
their first entry, that they nor any of them after their years or term
expired shall not set up, nor open any shop, house, nor cellar, nor
occupy as freeman without the assent and license of the master, wardens
or fellowship of their occupations, upon pain of forfeiting their
freedom or other like penalty; by reason whereof the said ’prentices
and journeymen be put to as much or more charges thereby than they
beforetime were put unto for the obtaining and entering of their
freedom, to the great hurt and impoverishment of the said ’prentices
and journeymen and other their friends.’ Such restrictions naturally
resulted in the withdrawal of the journeymen to set up shops in suburbs
or villages where the gild had no jurisdiction; and from this they were
not precluded, in all probability, by the terms of their oath. This
might often be their only chance of getting employment, as the masters
were apparently inclined to overstock their shops with apprentices,
rather than be at the expense of retaining a full proportion of
journeymen.” (_The Growth of English Industry._)

[Illustration:

  1. The Palace of Westminster.
  2. St. Stephen’s Chapel.
  3. Westminster Hall.
  4. Westminster Abbey.
  5. Old Palace Yard.
  6. The Clock Tower.
  7. The Gate House.
  8. St. Margaret’s Church.
  9. The King’s Stairs.
  10. Star Chamber.
  11. Lambeth Palace.
  12. Stangate Horse Ferry.
  13. St. James’s Hospital.
  14. St. James’s.
  15. Whitehall.
  16. Holbein’s Gate.
  17. Scotland Yard.
  18. Charing Cross.
  19. King’s Mews.
  20. St. Martin’s Church.
  21. St. Mary’s Hospital.
  22. St. Giles’s Church.
  23. Convent Garden.
  24. The Strand.
  25. York House.
  26. Durham House.
  27. Savoy Palace.
  28. Somerset Place.
  29. St. Mary le Strand.
  30. St. Clement Dane.
  31. Lincoln’s Inn.
  32. Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
  33. Gray’s Inn.
  34. Ely House.
  35. Fetter Lane.
  36. Rolls Place.
  37. St. Dunstan’s Church.
  38. The Temple Church.
  39. The Temple.
  40. Fleet Street.
  41. Grey Friars.
  42. Palace of Bridewell.
  43. St. Bride’s.
  44. St. Andrew’s Church.
  45. St. Sepulchre’s Church.
  46. Fleet Ditch.
  47. St. John’s Hospital.
  48. Smithfield.
  49. St. James’s, Clerkenwell.
  50. Newgate.
  51. Ludgate.
  52. Blackfriars.
  53. The Wardrobe.
  54. Baynard Castle.
  55. St. Paul’s Cathedral.
  56. St. Paul’s Cross.
  57. St. Bartholomew’s the Great.
  58. Grey Friars.
  59. Queen Hythe.
  60. The Standard.
  61. Rochester House.
  62. The Stews.
  63. Bank Side.

From the Panorama of “London, Westminster, and Southwark, in 1543.” By
Anthony Van den Vyngaerde. (Sutherland Collection, Bodleian Library.
Oxford.) _For continuation see pp. 234 and 350._ _pp. 219, 219._ ]

In 1545 Henry VIII. ordained the confiscation of the property of all
colleges, fraternities, brotherhoods and gilds. This measure, sweeping
in its terms, was not generally carried out. In 1547 the advisers
of Edward VI. swept away all the craft gilds in England except the
Companies of London and a few gilds in country towns. The statute
provided that artisans might work where they pleased whether they were
free of the town or not.

Trade, therefore, had entered upon new conditions; this was inevitable,
owing to the many changes—the revolutionary changes which created so
wide a gulf between the fifteenth and the sixteenth centuries.

With these preliminaries we can now proceed to the revival and
expansion of trade and the development of enterprise in the sixteenth
century, but more especially during the reign of Queen Elizabeth.

The endowment of the City with a Bourse is generally attributed to
the perception by Sir Thomas Gresham of the need for such a place
of meeting,[8] though the matter had been mooted and the opinion of
merchants taken thirty years before.

In the year 1537, Sir Richard Gresham, the father of Sir Thomas
Gresham, whose business had taken him to Antwerp, when he saw the
Bourse frequented daily by merchants, wrote a letter to Cromwell in
which he suggested the erection of a Bourse in Lombard Street, as the
place most frequented by merchants. As nothing came of the proposal
he wrote again in the following year with an estimate of the cost,
viz. £2000. If, he said, the Lord Privy Seal would induce Alderman Sir
George Monoux to part with certain property at cost price he, Gresham,
would undertake to raise £1000 towards the building before he went out
of office. Whereupon the King addressed a letter to Monoux desiring
him to dispose of certain property in Lombard Street, which was wanted
for the commonweal of the merchants. Monoux, with Gresham’s consent,
referred the matter to arbitration. A yearly sum of twenty marks to be
paid by the City was offered. Monoux at first refused to take it, but
afterwards, at the King’s request, consented. Then, for some unknown
reason, nothing more was done. The matter was left over for many years.

At this time Thomas Gresham (son of Sir Richard by his first wife,
Audrey, daughter of William Lynne of Southwick, Northampton) was
nineteen years of age, and still serving his apprenticeship to his
uncle, Sir John Gresham, Mercer. He was received into the Company in
1543. In the same year he was acting for the King at Antwerp. In 1551
he was appointed Royal Agent or King’s merchant, which caused him to
reside at Antwerp during many months, and at frequent intervals. On
the accession of Mary he was dismissed, but his services were speedily
discovered to be necessary, and he was reappointed. Elizabeth continued
his appointment.

In 1561 his factor, Richard Clough, wrote to him from Antwerp
expressing his astonishment that London should have gone on so long
without a Bourse:—

“Considering what a City London is; and that in so many years the same
found not the means to make a Burse, but merchants must be contented
to stand and walk in the rain, more like pedlars than Merchants. In
this Country, said he (meaning Antwerp), and in all other, there is
no kind of people that have occasion to meet but ye have a place for
that purpose; indeed and if your business were done (here) and that I
might have the leisure to go about it, and that I would be a means to
Mr. Secretary to have his favour therein, I would not doubt but to make
so fair a burse in London as the great burse is in Antwerp, without
soliciting of any Man more than he shall be well disposed to give.”

Gresham remembered the attempt made by his father in 1538 and its
failure; he resolved to take up the matter again, and in some way
introduced it to the Court of Aldermen, who asked him, through one of
their body, what he proposed to give himself towards the undertaking.
This was in 1563, two years after Clough wrote his letter. Gresham took
time to consider. In 1565 he sent in the offer. He would himself erect
a “comely burse” if the City would provide a suitable site.

The site was found on the north side of Cornhill. Two alleys, Swan
Alley and New St. Christopher’s, were purchased for £3532: the
materials of the houses sold for £478. Subscriptions were invited and
came in readily. On the 7th of June 1566 Sir Thomas was able to lay the
foundation stone. Every one of the aldermen laid his stone or brick,
with a piece of gold for the workmen.

The architect and the design came from Flanders. The Clerk of the Work,
Henryk, was a Fleming, and most of the workmen were foreigners, special
permission being granted for their employment. The City gave 100,000
bricks; the stone-work came from abroad, and “to this day” (Sharpe)
“the Royal Exchange is paved with small blocks of Turkish hone-stones,
believed to have been imported by Sir Thomas Gresham and to have been
relaid after the fires of 1666 and 1838.”

Observe, therefore, that to the City belonged the site, but that the
Exchange itself was the property of Gresham.

By the 22nd of December 1568 the Burse was so far complete as to
allow of merchants meeting within its walls; but it was not till the
23rd of January 1571 that the Queen herself visited it in state, and
gave it the name of the Royal Exchange. From the beginning a part of
the Exchange was set aside for Marine Insurance, not a new thing,
because it had long been the practice of the Lombard merchants in the
thirteenth century to give such insurances.

The Royal Exchange became a place of recreation as well as of business.
The citizens walked here on the evenings of Sundays and Holy days,
where the City waits played from 7 P.M. till 8 P.M. up to the Feast of
Pentecost, then they played from 8 P.M. till 9 P.M. until Michaelmas.
In 1576 it was ordered that no games of football should be played
within the Royal Exchange.

[Illustration: SIR THOMAS GRESHAM (1519(?)-1579)]

The Exchange remained the property of Sir Thomas Gresham until his
death, when he bequeathed the building together with his mansion in
Broad Street, after the death of his wife, on certain conditions, to
the City and the Mercers’ Company in trust, viz.:—

“The Citizens, for their Moiety of the said Edifice, are from Time
to Time to appoint four Persons duly qualified to read Lectures of
Divinity, Astronomy, Musick, and Geometry, in his Mansion-house
[afterwards Gresham College], and to pay annually to each of the said
Lecturers a Salary or Stipend of fifty Pounds. And also to pay yearly
to his eight Alms-People in _Broad-Street_ (whom the Mayor and Citizens
have likewise the Power of chusing) the sum of six Pounds thirteen
Shillings and four Pence each. And besides, to pay annually to the
Prisons of _Newgate_, _Ludgate_, _Kings-Bench_, _Marshalsey_, and
_Wood-Street Compter_, the Sum of ten Pounds each.

And the Mercers, for their Half, are, from Time to Time, to chuse
three persons well accomplished, to read Lectures of Law, Physick, and
Rhetorick, in the aforesaid Mansion-House called _Gresham-College_,
with the same salaries to each of the Lecturers as to the
above-mentioned. The said Company of Mercers are likewise obliged
to pay the sum of one hundred Pounds per Ann. for four quarterly
Dinners to be provided at their Hall, for the Entertainment of the
whole Company; and also to pay to _Christ’s_, _St. Bartholomews_, the
_Spital_, _Bethlehem_, and _St. Thomas’s_ Hospitals, and the _Poultry
Compter_, the Sum of ten Pounds per Ann. each.” (Maitland, vol. i. pp.
256–257.)

The reversion fell in on the death of Lady Gresham in 1596, when the
City and the Company took steps to carry out the Trust. Gresham House
became Gresham College, and so continued until the year 1767, when the
Crown took over the building for an Excise office, giving the City £500
a year perpetual annuity. For some time the lectures ceased; when they
were renewed they were delivered in the City of London School until the
building of the present Gresham College in Basinghall Street.

We have become accustomed to consider the enterprise and restless
spirit of adventure which makes the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries
so full of interest, as finding their sole field in the New World
and in voyages such as those of Drake and Cavendish; and in heroes
such as Frobisher, Gilbert, and Raleigh. We forget the expeditions of
Willoughby and Burroughs to find a north-east passage; the courage of
Chancellor, who opened up trade with Russia; the travels of Jenkinson,
who first crossed Russia and sailed over the Caspian Sea; the brave
Captains of the Levant Company, who fought their way through the
Barbary corsairs and the galleys of Spain; those faithful servants
of the same Company, Newbery, Fitch, and Leedes, who discovered the
long-forgotten overland route to India; the voyages of the first ships
of the East India Company in seas unknown, among a people strange and
suspicious; the persistent attempts to open up the African trade; we
have forgotten—if we ever learned—how, all over the world, along the
shores of the Baltic, in Arctic seas, round the Cape of Good Hope, in
the Far East, in North-West America and in the West Indies, the sails
of England carried the gallant adventurers whose very numbers make
their names difficult to be remembered; across the unknown plains of
Russia, across the Great Syrian desert, unvisited by Christians since
the days of Bohemond and Baldwin, down the Great River, even the river
Euphrates; in the Courts of the Great Mogul, in Malay land, among the
Red Indians of North America,—everywhere, visible to all, were found
the men of the Western Queen, as great a name to the Czar of Muscovy as
to Philip of Spain.

[Illustration: _Christ’s Hospital._]

In Hakluyt may be found written by Anthony Jenkinson, one of the most
determined and most daring of the trading travellers of this time,
a list of the countries which he had visited in six years. It is as
follows:—

  “The names of such countries as I Anthony Jenkinson have travelled
  unto, from the second of October 1546, at which time I made my
  first voyage out of England, untill the yeere of our Lord 1572,
  when I returned last out of Russia.

  First, I passed into Flanders, and travelled through all the base
  countries, and from thence from Germanie, passing over the Alpes
  I travelled into Italy, and from thence made my journey through
  Piemont into France, throughout all which realme I have thoroughly
  journied.

  I have also travelled through the kingdomes of Spaine and
  Portingal, I have sailed through the Levant seas every way, and
  have bene in all the chiefe Islands within the same sea, as Rhodes,
  Malta, Sicilia, Cyprus, Candie, and divers others.

  I have bene in many partes of Grecia, Morea, Achaia, and where the
  olde citie of Corinth stoode.

  I have travelled through a great part of Turkie, Syria, and divers
  other countries in Asia minor.

  I have passed over the mountaines of Libanus to Damasco, and
  travelled through Samaria, Galile, Philistine or Palestine, unto
  Jerusalem and so through all the Holy land.

  I have been in divers places of Affrica, as Algiers, Col, Bon,
  Tripolis, the gollet within the Gulf of Tunis.

  I have sailed farre Northward within the Mare glaciale, where
  we have had continuall day; and sight of the Sunne ten weekes
  together, and that navigation was in Norway, Lapland, Samogitia;
  and other very strange places.

  I have travelled through all the ample dominions of the Emperour
  of Russia and Moscovis, which extende from the North sea, and the
  confines of Norway and Lapland, even to the Mare Caspium.

  I have bene in divers countries neere about the Caspian sea,
  Gentiles, and Mahometans, as Cazan, Cremia, Rezan, Cheremisi,
  Mordouiti, Vachin, Nagaia, with divers others of strange customs
  and religions.

  I have sailed over the Caspian Sea, and discovered all the regions
  thereabout adjacent, as Chircassi, Comul, Shascal, Shiruan, with
  many others.

  I have travelled 40 daies journey beyond the said sea, towards
  the Oriental India and Cathaia, through divers deserts and
  wildernesses, and passed through 5 kingdomes of the Tartars, and
  all the land of Turkeman and Zagatay, and so to the great city of
  Boghar in Bactria, not without great perils and dangers sundry
  times.

  After all this, in An. 1562 I passed againe over the Caspian sea
  another way, and landed in Armenia, at a citie called Derbent,
  built by Alexander the Great, and from thence travelled through
  Media, Parthia, Hircania, into Persia to the court of the great
  Sophie, called Shaw Tomasso, unto whom I delivered letters from the
  Queenes Majestie, and remained in his court 8 months, and returning
  homeward, passed through divers other countries. Finally, I made
  two voyages more after that out of England into Russia, the one in
  the yeere 1566, and the other in the yeere 1571. And thus being
  weary and growing old, I am content to take my seat in mine owne
  house, chiefly comforting myselfe, in that my service hath bene
  honourably accepted and rewarded of her majestie and the rest by
  whom I have beene employed.”

And now it was that stories of danger from frost and from storm; of
cruelties endured at the hands of savages, and pirates; of captivity
among Moors; of tortures inflicted by the accursed Inquisition; of
hairbreadth escapes; of wanderings over lands never before seen; of
great treasures lying ready for the bold adventurer,—ran up and down
the City. The ’prentice told what he had heard to fellow ’prentice; the
sailors told the boys upon the wharves; the ship after her successful
voyage came up to the Pool with cloth of gold for sails and dressed
with flying streamers. Above all, the imagination of the youth was
fired more by the splendid stones of danger and of battle and of escape
from captivity than by the prospect of great riches. Do you know how
John Fox escaped from Alexandria? For my own part I do not know any
story better told or more certain to inspire the lads who heard it with
a burning desire to be with such a company and to be doing such things.
It is from Hakluyt (ii. 133), and I venture to relate it here and in
his own words, to show the kind of story which quickened the pulse and
fired the blood of the London youth.

  “Nowe these eight being armed with such weapons as they thought
  well of, thinking themselves sufficient champions to encounter
  a stronger enemie, and comming unto the prison, Fox opened the
  gates and doores thereof, and called forth all the prisoners, whom
  he set, some to ramming up the gate, some to the dressing up of
  a certaine gallie, which was the best in all the roade, and was
  called the captaine of Alexandria, whereinto some carried mastes,
  sailes, oares, and other such furniture as doth belong unto a
  gallie.

  At the prison were certaine warders, whom John Fox and his
  companie slew; in the killing of whom, there were eight more of
  the Turks, which perceived them, and got them to the toppe of the
  prison; unto whom John Fox, and his company, were faine to come by
  ladders, where they found a hot skirmish. For some of them were
  there slaine, some wounded, and some but scarred, and not hurt.
  As John Fox was thrise shot through his appareil, and not hurt,
  Peter Unticaro, and the other two, that had armed them with the
  duckats, were slaine, as not able to weild themselves, being so
  pestered with the weight and uneasie carying of the wicked and
  prophane treasure; and also divers Christians were as well hurt
  about that skirmish as Turkes slaine. Amongst the Turkes was one
  thrust thorowe, who (let us not say that it was ill fortune) fell
  off from the toppe of the prison wall, and made such a lowing, that
  the inhabitants thereabout (as here and there scattering stoode a
  house or two) came and dawed him, so that they understood the case,
  how that the prisoners were paying their ransomes; wherewith they
  raised both Alexandria which lay on the west side of the roade, and
  a Castle which was at the Cities end, next to the roade, and also
  an other Fortresse which lay on the north side of the roade; so
  that nowe they had no way to escape, but one, which by man’s reason
  (the two holdes lying so upon the mouth of the roade) might seeme
  impossible to be a way for them. So was the read sea impossible
  for the Israelites to passe through, the hils and rockes lay so
  on the one side, and their enemies compassed them on the other.
  So was it impossible that the wals of Jericho should fall downe,
  being neither undermined, nor yet rammed at with engines, nor yet
  any man’s wisdome, pollicie, or helpe set or put thereunto. Such
  impossibilities can our God make possible. He that helde the Lyons
  jawes from rending Daniel asunder, yea, or yet from once touching
  him to his hurt; can not He hold the roring canons of this hellish
  force? He that kept the fiers rage in the hot burning oven, from
  the three children, that praised His name, can not He keepe the
  fiers flaming blastes from among His elect?

  Now is the roade fraught with lustie souldiers, laborers, and
  mariners, who are faine to stand to their tackling, in setting
  to every man his hand, some to the carying in of victuals, some
  munitions, some oares, and some one thing, some another, but most
  are keeping their enemie from the wall of the road. But to be
  short, there was no time mispent, no man idle, nor any man’s labour
  ill bestowed, or in vaine. So that in short time, this gally was
  ready trimmed up. Whereinto every man leaped in all haste, hoyssing
  up the sayles lustily, yeelding themselves to His mercie and grace,
  in whose hands are both winde and weather.

  Now is this gally on flote, and out of the safetie of the roade;
  now have the two Castles full power upon the gally, now is there
  no remedy but to sinke; how can it be avoided? the Canons let flie
  from both sides, and the gally is even in the middest, and betweene
  them both. What man can devise to save it? there is no man, but
  would thinke it must needs be sunke.

  There was not one of them that feared the shotts, which went
  thundring round about their eares, nor yet were once scarred or
  touched, with five and forty shot, which came from the Castles.
  Here did God hold foorth His buckler, He shieldeth now this gally,
  and hath tried their faith to the uttermost. Now commeth His
  speciall helpe; yea, even when man thinks them past all helpe, then
  commeth He Himselfe downe from heaven with His mightie power, then
  is His present remedie most readie prest. For they saile away,
  being not once touched with the glaunce of a shot, and are quickly
  out of the Turkish canons reach. Then might they see them comming
  downe by heapes to the water side, in companies like unto swarmes
  of bees, making shew to come after them with gallies, in bustling
  themselves to dresse up the gallies, which would be a swift peece
  of worke for them to doe, for that they had neither oares, mastes,
  sailes, gables, nor anything else ready in any gally. But yet they
  are carying them unto them, some into one gally, and some into
  another, so that, being such a confusion amongst them, without any
  certaine guide, it were a thing impossible to overtake them; beside
  that, there was no man that would take charge of a gally, the
  weather was so rough, and there was such an amasedness [amazedness]
  amongst them.”

[Illustration: SIR FRANCIS DRAKE (1540(?)-1596)

From an engraving by Elstracke in the British Museum.]

The effect on London of the magnificent expeditions of the English was
startling. Think what these things meant. The country for a long time
could look back upon nothing but defeat, humiliation, civil war, and
religious dissensions. There were no military achievements, no naval
victories; no increase of trade; never was the nation more depressed
and humbled than at the death of Queen Mary and the accession of
Elizabeth.

[Illustration: DRAKE’S “GOLDEN HIND,” IN WHICH HE SAILED ROUND THE
WORLD, 1577–1580]

Then—almost suddenly—all was changed. More than the old spirit came
back to the Londoners, the descendants of the men who had followed
Philpot the Mayor to the destruction of the Scottish pirate. Not only
the sea dogs of Devon, but those of Wapping, Ratcliffe, Redriff, and
the Cinque Ports went forth to fight the Spaniard wherever they could
find him. Think of the career of Frobisher. Three times he essayed
the north-west passage to Cathay; he commanded one of Drake’s ships
in his expedition to the West Indies; he fought against the Armada;
he was wounded, and died from wounds received at the siege of Crozan
in Brittany. Forty years on the sea, sword in hand, sailed this brave
captain. London possesses his body, which lies in St. Giles’s Church,
Cripplegate. There was also Cavendish, the gentleman filibuster, who
captured the richest prize ever known, and came home, his sails of
damask, his sailors clad in silk, and his masts gleaming with cloth
of gold. Or there was the defeat, the flight after battle against
overwhelming odds, which affected the imagination even more than
victory. Such was Sir John Hawkins’s fight at San Juan de Ulloa, five
ships against thirteen. Even death, when death came splendidly, moved
the hearts of the young men to brave deeds. Was there ever death finer
than that of Sir Humphrey Gilbert? The last time he was seen by the
people on the other ship, his companion, he was sitting on the high
poop, his Bible in his hand. “We are as near to Heaven,” said the old
captain, “by sea as by land.” Night fell and the men on the _Hind_
saw the light of the _Squirrel_ suddenly disappear. She had gone down
with all on board. And while speaking of splendid deaths, there was
that of Sir Richard Grenville. In his ship the _Revenge_, with five
other vessels, he was met by a Spanish fleet of fifty-three ships; his
companions fled, and the _Revenge_ alone fought them all:—

    “And the sun went down, and the stars came out, far over the summer
        sea,
    But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three.
    Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons
        came,
    Ship after ship, the whole night long, with her battle-thunder and
        flame:
    Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and
        her shame.
    For some were sunk and many were shatter’d, and so could fight us
        no more—
    God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?”

But at length he was captured with his crippled ship and his diminished
crew.

    “But he rose upon their decks, and he cried:
    ‘I have fought for Queen and Faith, like a valiant man and true:
    I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do:
    With a joyful spirit, I, Sir Richard Grenville, die!’
    And he fell upon their decks, and he died.”

The ship in which Drake sailed round the world (_The Golden Hind_),
when it became unfit for service, was laid up near the “Mast Dock” at
Deptford, where it remained for a long series of years an object of
curiosity and wonder. Hentzner, in 1598, says he saw here the ship
of that noble pirate, Francis Drake. From a passage in one of Ben
Jonson’s plays it appears to have become a resort for holiday people,
the cabin being then converted into a banqueting house. Drake’s ship at
Deptford is spoken of as one of the “sights” in some verses prefixed
to the redoubtable Tom Coryat’s _Crudities_, 1611. When the young Duke
of Saxe-Weimar saw the ship in 1613, but very little remained of it.
It was then lying by the river-side in shallow water, in a dock; the
lower part only was left, the upper part being all gone, for almost
everybody who went there, and especially sailors, were in the habit
of carrying off some portion of it. Philipott, _History of Kent_,
1659, says that in a very short time nothing was left of her. And in
Moryson’s _Itinerary_, 1617, it is noticed as follows—“Not farre from
hence (Deptford), upon the shore, lie the broken ribs of the ship in
which Sir Francis Drake sailed round the world, reserved for a monument
of that great action.” A chair, made out of the wood, is to be seen in
the gallery of the Bodleian Library at Oxford.

Let us take a contemporary poet, to see how Drake’s own generation was
affected by his exploits:—

    “Awake, each Muse, awake!
      Not one I need, but all
    To sing of Francis Drake
      And his companions tall.
    One Muse may chance do well,
    Where little is to tell;
    But nine are all too few
    To tell what he did do,
      His friends and soldiers all.

    Drake was made generall
      By sea and eke by land,
    And Christopher Carlisle
      Did next unto him stand.
    Brave Winter too, was there,
    And Captain Fourbisher,
    And Knowles, and many mo,
    Did all together go
      To lend a helping hand.

    Three thousand Volunteers
      Were numbered with the rest,
    And sailors, as appears,
      To guide them to the West,
    To quell the Spaniard’s pride,
    Which could not be denied;
    But which could not be seene
    By our most noble Queene
      And stomach’d with the best.

    In more than twenty ships
      They sailed from the port.
    In speed they did eclipse,
      And took St. Jago’s fort:
    It was a glorious day,
    Before they came away,
    The day of our Queen’s birth,
    They kept with joy and mirth
      In well beseeming sort.

    Santo Domingo next
      They took and also spoiled.
    The Spaniard he was vext
      To be so easy foiled.
    No force could them resist;
    They did as they list.
    The Spaniards bought the town,
    And paid the ducats down
      For which they long had toiled.

    From thence to Carthagene
      They carried victory:
    Upon the Spanish main
      The city rich doth lye.
    They took it by assault:
    The Spaniards were in fault;
    But they could not oppose
    The valour of such foes,
      And yeelded presently.

    To Terra Florida
      They did direct their course,
    And ever by the way
      They proved their skill and force.
    With fear the Spaniards shook
    While all their towne they took.
    For barrels of bright gold
    The towne our English sold,
      And shewed therefore remorse.

    And now they have returned
      To Plymouth back once more,
    And glory they have earned
      Enough to put in store.
    Our Queen with great delight
    Beheld the joyous sight,
    And thanked them every one
    For what they thus had done
      By sea and on the shore.

    Now, welcome all and some,
      Now welcome to our isle,
    For Francis Drake is come
      To London with Carlisle:
    And many more with him
    That ventured life and limb,
    And fighting side by side
    Did quell the Spaniard’s pride,
      To cause our Queen to smile.”

And if the following truly represents the spirit of the sailors, what a
promising and cheerful spirit it was!

    “Lustely, lustely, lustely let us saile forth,
    The winde trim doth serve us, it blowes from the north.

    All thinges we have ready, and nothing we want
      To furnish our ship that rideth here by:
    Victuals and weapons, thei be nothing skant,
      Like worthie mariners ourselves we will trie.
                                  Lustely, lustely, etc.

    Her flagges be new trimmed, set flaunting alofte,
      Our ship for swift swimmyng, oh, she doeth excell;
    Wee feare no enemies, we have escaped them ofte;
      Of all ships that swimmeth she beareth the bell.
                                  Lustely, lustely, etc.

    And here is a maister excelleth in skill,
      And our maister’s mate he is not to seeke;
    And here is a boteswaine will do his good will,
      And here is a ship boye, we never had leeke.
                                  Lustely, lustely, etc.

    If fortune then faile ot, and our next vioage prove,
      Wee will returne merely, and make good cheere,
    And holde all together, as friends linkt in love:
      The cannes shal be filled with wine, ale, and beere.
                                  Lustely, lustely, etc.”

But enough of songs, we must return to the more serious aspects of
Trading England. When merchants first began to carry on foreign trade
in association it is impossible to ascertain. But as we find “Men
of the Emperor” and “Men of Rouen” in London in Saxon times, it is
probable that foreign trade was from the beginning carried on by
members of companies. These members traded each for himself; but they
were associated for protection, and of necessity an “interloper”—as
the private trader was afterwards called—could not carry his wares
to a foreign city when he knew not the language, or the customs, nor
could claim the privileges accorded to the Companies. On the other
hand, behind the members stood a powerful corporation; this gave the
merchants credit; this procured for them respect and protection;
this provided the machinery of warehouses, markets, interpreters,
and information as to laws, regulations, prices, demand, supply,
privileges, and all the special points required to be mastered if trade
were to be successful.

The first foreign trading Company, then, was exactly like a Trades
Guild, in which only members could follow the trade, which had its own
quarter, made its own laws for itself, elected its own officers, yet
every member worked for himself.

The longest lived and the most important of the mediæval companies was
the Hanseatic League, already mentioned at p. 82.

[Illustration:

_F. Hausstaengl_

A MERCHANT OF THE STEELYARD

From the portrait by Holbein at Windsor Castle.]

The earliest association of London merchants for foreign trade is that
called the Staplers’ Company. They claimed to have existed long before
the Merchant Adventurers. There is, however, a great deal of mystery
attached to their early history. Thus, if they were associated for
exporting the staple wares, such as wool, lead, tin, and skins, how
far did they overlap the Hanseatics? And were they all foreigners? The
latter question seems answered by the law of 1253, which prohibited
English merchants from exporting staple goods. Again, was this law
strictly enforced? In 1362, more than a hundred years later, it was
repealed.

The Merchants of the Staple are sometimes confused with the Fraternity
of St. Thomas à Becket, from whom sprung a much more important body—the
Merchant Adventurers. The reason of the decay of the Staplers was the
growth of English industries, which forbade the exports of the most
important of the staples—wool. The Staplers, however, continued their
trade, having their headquarters at Antwerp, Brussels, Louvain, Calais,
and Bruges, successively. It will be remembered that Edward III.
established the Staple of Wool at Westminster; the name of Staple Inn
preserved the fact that the merchants had houses on that site.

About the year 1358 the Fraternity of Thomas Becket received privileges
from Louis, Count of Flanders, for fixing their staple of English
woollen cloth at Bruges. This Fraternity gave rise to the Mercers’
Company founded under Edward the Third. The Saint, son of a London
mercer, was especially regarded as the protector of the Company. The
Brotherhood was not at first possessed of exclusive rights, but if
we suppose that they were backed by the richest traders in London,
namely, the Mercers and the Drapers, and that no other London trader
would compete with them, it is quite probable that they feared no
competition. They got a Charter in 1406 when Henry the Fourth gave them
the right of choosing their own governors; they then began to arrogate
to themselves exclusive rights, which were confirmed by another
Charter of 1436. So wealthy and powerful did they become that when,
in 1444, they removed their headquarters from Middleburg to Antwerp,
the magistrates and citizens met them outside the town, and offered
them an entertainment. Their Secretary, John Wheeler (_Treatise of
Commerce_, 1601), says that the “English Nation” were the real founders
of Antwerp’s wealth. There were troubles as to the attempts of private
merchants to trade; in 1497 it was provided by Act of Parliament that
every Englishman should have free entrance to foreign marts on payment
of ten marks, presumably to the Fraternity. Again, in 1505, a new
Charter changed their name to that of the “Merchant Adventurers of
England.” Under this Charter they held in their hands the export trade
in woollen cloths, and were authorised to hold courts and to admit
other merchants for a fee of ten marks to trade with them in Flanders,
Holland, Brabant, Zeeland, and the countries adjacent under the
Archduke’s government. The Merchant Adventurers became a power in the
land; so great a power, indeed, that when Charles the Fifth proposed to
establish the Inquisition in Antwerp, he was dissuaded by the Merchant
Adventurers, who threatened to leave the City if he persisted. It is
said that the Company then employed 50,000 persons in the Netherlands.
At this time their limits comprised all the ports from the river Somme
to the German ports within the Baltic. They exported white and coloured
cloths to the value of one million sterling every year, and imported,
among other things, wine, copper, steel, gunpowder (could we not make
our own gunpowder?), silk, velvets, cloth of gold. This business was
well nigh ruined by King James the First when he granted a monopoly for
the sale of cloths dyed at home to Sir William Cockaine, Alderman. (See
_London in the Time of the Stuarts_, p. 194.)

[Illustration:

_W. A. Mansell & Co._

MEDALS STRUCK IN COMMEMORATION OF THE ARMADA

From medals in the British Museum.

_p._ 232.]

As the Merchant Adventurers grew richer it became necessary, according
to the bad practice of the time, to bribe statesmen for a continuance
of their privileges; they also increased the fees for admission. The
troubles between Holland and England in the seventeenth century drove
the Adventurers to Hamburg, where they remained, and were called the
Hamburg Company.

The vast enlargement of trade and enterprise under Elizabeth was well
begun under her father. In 1511 ships began to sail from the ports of
London, Southampton, and Bristol to Sicily, Candia, Chio, Cyprus, and
Tripoli; they took out woollen cloths and hides, and they brought back
rhubarb, silk, corselets, malmsey, oil, cotton, carpets, and spices.
An English merchant was appointed Consul at Candia; another merchant,
a foreigner, was made Consul at Chio; in the year 1535 a ship took out
from London a hundred persons who were settled by the English merchants
as factors at the various centres of trade. Trade openings were made on
the Coast of Guinea and with Morocco; ships sailed to Newfoundland and
to Brazil. In the year 1583 was formed the first of the new Companies
for trading purposes. This Company had an interesting but a disastrous
beginning. It was started with a capital of £6000 in 240 shares of £25
each; its original idea was to find a north-east passage to China and
to open trade with the Chinese. Three vessels were fitted out under the
command of Sir Hugh Willoughby. Would you know how the fleet started?
Hakluyt tells the story:—

  “It was thought best by the opinion of them all, that by the
  twentieth of May, the Captaines and Mariners should take shipping,
  and depart from Radcliffe, upon the ebbe, if it pleased God.
  They having saluted their acquiaintance, one his wife, another
  his children, another his kinsfolkes, and another his friends
  deerer then his kinsfolkes, were present and ready at the day
  appoynted; and having wayed ancre, they departed with the turning
  of the water, and sailing easily, came first to Greenewich. The
  greater shippes are towed downe with boates, and oares, and the
  mariners being all apparelled in Watchet or skie coloured cloth,
  rowed amaine, and made way with diligence. And being come neere
  to Greenewich (where the Court then lay) presently upon the newes
  thereof, the Courtiers came running out, and the common people
  flockt together, standing very thicke upon the shoare; the privie
  Counsel, they lookt out at the windowes of the Court, and the
  rest ranne up to the toppes of the towers; the shippes hereupon
  discharge their Ordinance, and shot off their pieces after the
  maner of warre, and of the sea, insomuch that the tops of the
  hilles sounded therewith, the valleys and waters gave an echo, and
  the Mariners they shouted in such sort, that the skie rang againe
  with the noyse thereof. One stoode in the poope of the ship, and
  by his gestures bid farewell to his friends in the best maner
  hee could. Another walkes upon the hatches, another climbes the
  shrowds, another stands upon the maine yard, and another in the top
  of the shippe. To be short, it was a very triumph (after a sort)
  in all respects to the beholders. But (alas) the good King Edward
  (in respect of whom principally all this was prepared) hee onely
  by reason of his sickenesse was absent from this shewe, and not
  long after the departure of these ships, the lamentable and most
  sorrowfull accident of his death followed.”

Other accounts of this incident represent the King as being carried out
to see this gallant spectacle, the last he was to see upon earth.

The little fleet met with bad weather off the coast of Spitzbergen; two
of them, including the captain’s ship, ran into a harbour of Lapland,
where the whole company were frozen to death; the third got into
the White Sea and so to Archangel; the captain, Richard Chancellor,
procured sledges and travelled to Moscow, where he obtained from the
Czar permission to trade on the northern coast of Russia. Thus was
founded the Russia Company. A few years later one of the agents of the
Russia Company was despatched as an Ambassador from the English Court
to the Czar, who in his turn sent an Ambassador to Whitehall. On his
voyage the Russian Ambassador was wrecked on the coast of Scotland.
The Russia Company, hearing of the disaster, sent a deputation with a
supply of everything that the Ambassador might want. On his approach to
the City he was met by a company of eighty merchants on horseback, who
escorted him to Highgate, where he lay that night, and on the next day
was met by Lord Montague, representing the Queen, with 300 knights and
esquires and 140 merchants of the Russia Company. Rooms were found for
him in Gracechurch Street, where many costly gifts awaited him.

The history of this Company deserves to be written at length on
account of the enterprise and intelligence of its agents. Indeed,
justice has never been done to the agents and factors of the great
London Companies. It was not the Directors, sitting at home at their
long table, who created the Indian Empire; maintained and widened the
English trade; carried the English flag over lands unknown and to
peoples unheard of; it was not the Directors who opened up routes,
stood before capricious despots, marked the resources of new countries
and reported on their wants. These things were done by the factors and
the agents, who encountered all risks, facing possibly prison, torture,
disease, and sometimes a cruel death, for the enlargement of trade and
the enrichment of their masters. They were the pioneers; sometimes they
were the Forlorn Hope of the English trade and wealth. No Company, not
even the East India Company, was better served by its agents than the
Russia Company. They obtained from the Czar important privileges; they
could trade in any part of Russia without safe conduct or licenses;
they could not be arrested for debt; they could appoint their own
officers and servants; and they had jurisdiction over all Englishmen
resident in Russia. In other words, they had a monopoly of the Russian
Trade.

The Company showed a clear comprehension of these advantages; they
continued to attempt the north-east passage; they sent ships laden
with merchandise to Archangel, whence their agents travelled over
Russia; they even opened communications with Persia by means of their
agent Anthony Jenkinson, who has already in his own words given us an
account of his adventurous career. When he sailed from the Volga
to Astrakhan, he passed over the Caspian to the town of Boghaz, where
he found traders from the Far East. He sent home a map of Russia, the
first published in England. This way of trade, however, proved too
dangerous on account of Cossack pirates who infested the Caspian Sea
and robbed the Company’s ships. However, the Company, anxious to secure
these advantages, procured an Act of Parliament granting them the
exclusive trade with the countries of Persia, Armenia, and Media, as
well as Russia.

[Illustration:

  47. St. John’s Hospital.
  48. Smithfield.
  49. St. James’s, Clerkenwell.
  54. Baynard Castle.
  55. St. Paul’s Cathedral.
  58. Grey Friars.
  59. Queen Hythe.
  60. St. Martin’s le Grand.
  61. Aldersgate.
  62. Jew’s Cemetery.
  63. Cheapside.
  64. The Standard.
  65. Cross, Cheapside.
  66. Rochester House.
  67. Winchester House.
  68. St. Mary’s Overie.
  70. St. Thomas’s Hospital.
  71. St. George’s Church.
  72. Kent Road.
  73. Suffolk House.
  74. St. Giles’s, Cripplegate.
  75. Cripplegate.
  76. The Barbican.
  77. St. Albans, Wood Street.
  78. Bow Church.
  79. Broken Wharf.
  80. The Cranes.
  81. The Steel Yard.
  82. Cold Harbour.
  83. Fishmongers’ Hall.
  84. St. Thomas of Acons.
  85. Guildhall.
  86. Moorgate.
  87. Austin Friars.
  88. Bishopsgate.
  89. Church of St. Magnus.
  90. London Bridge.
  91. St. Thomas’s Chapel.
  92. Bridge House.
  93. St. Olaves Church.
  94. St. Agnes’s le Clare.
  95. Hoxton.
  96. St. Botolph, Bishopsgate.
  97. Leadenhall.
  98. Botolph Wharf.
  99. Billingsgate.
  100. St. Mary Spittal.
  101. Walls of London.
  127. High Street, Southwark.

From the Panorama of “London, Westminster, and Southwark, in 1543.” By
Anthony Van den Vyngaerde. (Sutherland Collection, Bodleian Library,
Oxford.) _For continuation see pp. 350 and 351._]

Internal troubles in Russia, such as the taking of Moscow by the
Tartars, caused the Company a loss of 400,000 roubles. Pirates in the
Baltic, and other misfortunes, greatly reduced the Company, but they
persevered in their voyages of discovery, once more attempting the
north-east passage, which was expected to do so much for them. They
did not succeed, but they discovered the deep sea fisheries, and they
brought home immense quantities of fish-oil and of dried salmon. They
suffered from the Dutch, who followed in their wake; they obtained
from the King of Denmark permission to put in at any of his seaports
in Iceland or Norway; they lost their exclusive rights in Russia, but
only for a time; they found themselves cut out by the Dutch, whose
vessels carried more merchandise; with the authority of James the
First, they sent armed vessels and seized on Spitzbergen in the King’s
name, calling it King James’s Newland. They had to fight for their
conquest, driving off Dutch, French, and Biscay sail with four English
“interlopers.” The Dutch, however, would not admit the pretensions
of Crown or Company, sending their ships protected by men-of-war to
fish, despite the protests of the English. There was fighting in the
high latitudes for some years, while even the English ports refused
to recognise the exclusive right of the Company. Finally, the whales
became so scarce about Spitzbergen that the trade ceased to be worth
fighting about.

We will continue the history of the Company in brief, though it runs
far beyond the limits of our period. In the year 1620 the route by the
Caspian was reopened by Hobbs, an agent to the Company, who took that
way from Moscow to Ispahan. In 1623 a new treaty was concluded between
James the First and the Czar, in which privileges, but not exclusive
rights, were conferred upon the Company. A deadly blow was inflicted
on the Company by the execution of Charles, an event naturally viewed
by all sovereigns with the deepest indignation. The English merchants,
who were masters of the Russian trade, were driven out and supplanted
by the Dutch; and it was not until the year 1669 that the Company was
allowed to trade with Russia on the same footing as the Dutch.

The real importance of the Company was decaying when it admitted any
one as a member on payment of a fine of £5. The conveyance of raw silk
from Persia through Russia remained their privilege until troubles
broke out in Persia in 1746, which stopped the trade; they still
carried on their trade with Archangel, but when the Baltic became a
peaceful highway, this shorter route to Russia destroyed the Archangel
trade. The Russia Company did not, it is true, acquire for the British
Empire any accession of territory; but its services in exploring new
routes, opening up new lines of trade, putting Great Britain into
communication with foreign powers previously strangers, can hardly be
exaggerated, while it fostered and encouraged and developed that spirit
of enterprise, adventure, and restlessness which, since the seventeenth
century, has covered half the globe with one people and one religion.

A distinction must be drawn between “regulated companies” and
Joint-Stock Companies. In the former, every man traded for himself,
subject to the regulations of the Company, like a Guild. In the
“Russia,” “Turkey,” and “Eastland” Companies no one but a member could
carry on that kind of trade. In the Joint-Stock Companies shareholders
need not be traders and could sell or transfer their shares.

The Eastland Company was first chartered in 1579. It was privileged to
enjoy the sole trade over all those parts of the Baltic shore which
did not belong to the Russia Company. Now there had been carried
on, from time immemorial, a trade with the Baltic ports by private
adventurers who wanted no charter. Many of these, no doubt, took up
their membership with the new Company, but there were some who would
not, or could not. These traders, driven away from their own markets,
made loud complaints, in reply to which a proclamation was issued
ordering that no one outside the Company was to export to these parts
the merchandise in which the Eastland Company traded; provided always
that the importation of corn and grain was left free. The provision
looks like a compromise, but when we ask how corn and grain were to be
imported except in ships, and that, if these ships were English, they
would hardly go out in ballast, one fails to see that the enemies of
the Eastlanders got much by their proclamation. In 1672 the whole of
Scandinavia was thrown open to all comers; and the entrance-fee to the
Company was reduced to £2. The opinion of Sir Josiah Child probably
settled the fate of the Company. He said that the Eastland Company had
only enabled the Dutch to get ten times as much trade in the Baltic as
was carried on by the English.

In the year 1581 the Turkey Company received its Charter from Queen
Elizabeth. It was a Charter for a limited time, seven years, and it
could be revoked at a year’s notice. The Company began very well;
they built large and strong ships to face the storms of the Bay, for
which they received the thanks of the Council; they introduced eastern
commodities at a much cheaper price; but they sometimes paid dearly for
their cargoes when they had to fight the corsairs of Barbary and the
galleys of Spain, and to face the fiercest animosity of the Venetians.
In 1583 some of the agents of the Company, stationed at the Aleppo
House, made their way with merchandise to Bagdad, to the Persian
Gulf, and thence to India and the Far East. They obtained, therefore,
a new Charter giving them power to trade over India as well as the
Sultan’s dominions. The entrance-fee was fixed at £25 for persons under
twenty-six years of age, at £50 for those over twenty-six, and at £1
for apprentices.

The Company now became extremely prosperous, carrying on a most
extensive trade. This trade, by a later order under Charles II., was
kept entirely in the hands of the City of London, no one, unless
a resident and a freeman, being admitted into the Company. On the
foundation of the East India Company there arose disputes as to the
infringement of rights. This quarrel ended without any decision.

The trade of the Turkey Company declined during the seventeenth century
from many causes, one of which was the rivalry of the French and their
success in underselling the English goods. The Company finally closed
its history in the year 1825.

The Levant Company was another trading Company established under
Elizabeth. By opening up direct communication with the Levant, England
procured all the productions of the East without the intervention of
Venice. Only one more vessel was sent to London from Venice after the
establishment of the Company, and this with a rich cargo and many
passengers was wrecked and destroyed on the Isle of Wight.

For the repulse of the Spanish Armada, London contributed thirty-eight
vessels, and the Society of Merchant Adventurers, ten. In 1591, or
perhaps in 1589, the first voyage from London to the East Indies was
undertaken. The expedition of 1591 consisted of three ships, of which
one was never heard of again; and the other two lost many men from
sickness. The expedition, however, led to the formation of the East
India Company in A.D. 1600, with a capital of £72,000 in 1440 shares
of £50 each. Their first fleet, consisting of five ships and 480 men,
reached Sumatra and the Straits of Malacca, where they captured a
Portuguese ship of 900 tons laden with calicoes. They settled a factory
at Bantam and sailed homewards, returning to port in two years and
seven months after starting.

The trade of the country was greatly advanced by the immigration of
many Flemings, Dutch, Walloons, and French Huguenots, who brought over
with them their own trades. They were judiciously distributed about
the country, care being taken that they should neither interfere with
the trade of the place nor crowd too much together. Thus at Sandwich
alone there were 350 Flemish families in the year 1582; they carried
on the manufactory of bags. In Norwich, Dutch and Walloons settled and
made serges and silks and bombazines. Bone lace was taken to Honiton
from Antwerp. In London the Flemings settled at Bermondsey, where they
made felt hats and did joiners’ work; at Bow, where they had dye-works;
at Wandsworth, where they worked in brass; at Mortlake and Fulham,
where they made tapestry. In other places workers in steel and iron,
window-glass painters, cloth fullers, cloth-makers, and many other
craftsmen were planted and carried on profitable industries. Among
other things, sail-making was introduced into England for the first
time. The pawnbroker’s shop was also opened in this reign. It began
with the establishment of seven banks in as many towns, to be known as
“Banks for the relief of Common Necessity,” which should lend money on
pledges. This Bank is alluded to by Shakespeare when Sir John Falstaff
urges his hostess to pawn her cups and her hangings. “Glass,” he says,
“glass is your only drinking: and for thy walls, a pretty slight
drollery, or the story of the Prodigal or the Germans hunting in water
work, is worth a thousand of these bed hangings and these fly-bitten
tapestries.”

The monopoly system by which the Court rewarded favourites at the
expense of trade and the people was regarded by Elizabeth with favour,
as an easy way of bestowing favours costing herself nothing. Many of
her monopolies she withdrew as manifestly injurious to trade, yet she
left many which weighed heavily upon the enterprise of the country.
These monopolies were multiplied in the next two reigns, and greatly
assisted to bring about the unpopularity of Charles.

Cunningham is of opinion that the borrowing of money for trading
purposes was not a common practice; he bases this opinion on the very
high rate of interest demanded by the usurer. There can be no doubt
that usury was strictly forbidden by the Church, by the Ordinances of
the City of London, and by public opinion. Yet a case quoted by him
(_Growth of Trade_, p. 325) shows that men not only wanted to borrow
from time to time, but that Christians, not Jews, were willing to lend
on interest. In that case the lender wanted interest for a loan of £10
for three months, which amounted to 80 per cent per annum. The usurer
could not get his claim allowed. Yet it is difficult to understand how
business could be carried on at all except in an elementary way, if
there was neither credit nor borrowing. But was the rate of interest
too high for trading on borrowed money? There is every reason to
believe that the profits of trade were enormous. Malyns, in his _Centre
of the Circle of Commerce_, gives a table showing the profits of the
trade in spices, silk, indigo, etc., early in the seventeenth century.
They range from 150 to 250 per cent, _i.e._ goods bought at £100 would
sell for £250 up to £350. Of course there must be set off against this
apparently huge profit, losses by wrecks and pirates and the expense
of the shipping. Borrowing, Cunningham thinks, was necessary to meet
taxation. Since taxes were not regular, but irregular; and could not be
provided for because no one knew when a tallage would be imposed or how
large a percentage would be demanded, the merchant or the landowner,
though perfectly solvent, might not be able to lay his hand at once on
the amount demanded. A person of to-day whose estate might be worth
£120,000 would find it, very possibly, difficult to meet, within a few
days, the King’s demand of one-fifteenth, that is £8000. If he could
not realise in time he must borrow. If all the usury was confined to
the lending of money to meet a sudden tax, or to a monastery for the
building of a church, or for a baron to raise a force, what becomes
of the popular hatred of the Jews, first as money-lenders, and of
the Caursini and the Italians who were licensed by the Pope, next?
And if there was no borrowing by the merchants, what was the meaning
of that crowd which, after the massacre of the Jews in York Castle,
rushed to the Cathedral, where they brought out the Jews’ bonds—their
own bonds—and burned them all? Cunningham, in a note, enumerates the
demands of certain Russians against the Jews of the present day.
These demands express the popular belief concerning their practice,
not the truth. One would most unwillingly accept prejudice for proof,
especially in the case of the race which has endured so much prejudice
for so many centuries. Cunningham says, very justly, that the real
objection against the Jews was that they made their money by lending
it on security, which left them no risks which could be foreseen. The
common people, however, did not understand the objection; they saw that
the Jews practised a trade which the Church and the State would not
allow to Christians; they saw that the Jews grew rich rapidly; that
they were protected by the King; that they waxed insolent and sometimes
insulted the Christian religion; and if they lent a Christian money
they demanded an enormous, a ruinous, interest for it. Deep, indeed,
must have been the popular hatred of the Jews, since Shakespeare could
stir the blood of his audience by the spectacle of a Jewish usurer,
three hundred years after there had been Jews in the land.

[Illustration: THE TOWER IN 1553

From a drawing by Wyngaerde. E. Gardner’s Collection]

The business of the daily life, as well as that of the mercantile life,
cannot, in fact, be carried on without money-lending. Works cannot
be undertaken; credit cannot be secured; cargoes cannot be bought;
ships cannot be laden; unless money can be obtained by advance. The
banishment of the Jews; the disappearance of the Italians; took away
the usurers and money-lenders by profession. There were as yet no
banks to make advances on security; and money-lending was still, as it
remains to this day, an occupation held in the greatest loathing. The
money-lender, therefore, disguised his calling. Thus Hall (_Society in
the Elizabethan Age_) furnishes a sketch of the usurer of the period.
His name was George Stoddart; by trade he was ostensibly a grocer, but
really a money-lender. His bargains took the form of bets. Thus he
sends J. Klynt his furred nightgown for 4s. 5d., to be paid on the day
of Klynt’s marriage: he gives R. Leds a ring called a ryboys, which
he values at £1:13:4, to be paid on the day of his marriage or else
at his hour of death. For a rapier he charges 40d., to be paid at his
day of marriage or else not. He gives a man £400 on the condition that
during his lifetime the borrower shall pay him £80 a year. He lived
for ten years, and so doubled that small capital of £400. It would be
interesting to know what, if any, great City fortunes were made by this
style of money-lending.

The increase of trade and of shipping in the Port of London is
indicated by a passage in Camden, when he speaks of the multitudes of
ships “as a very wood of trees, disbranched to make glades and to let
in the light: so shaded is it with masts and sails.”

The watermen of London were those who lived by the river and the port.
John Taylor, the water poet, says that 40,000 people lived by the
labour of the oar and scull. In 1613 there was a petition from the
Company of Watermen against the erection of a theatre on the London or
Middlesex side of the river, because it drew away so many people who
otherwise would have been carried across the river to the theatres on
the south bank. John Taylor shows us that many of these watermen had
been sailors:—

  “I did briefly declare part of the services that watermen had
  done in Queen Elizabeth’s reign of famous memory, in the voyage
  to Portugal with the right honourable and never to be forgotten
  Earl of Essex; then after that, how it pleased God, in that great
  deliverance in the year 1588, to make watermen good serviceable
  instruments with their loss of lives and limbs to defend their
  prince and country. Moreover, many of them served with Sir Francis
  Drake, Sir John Hawkins, Sir Martin Frobisher, and others. Besides,
  in Cadiz action, the Island Voyage, in Ireland, in the Low
  Countries, and in the narrow seas they have been, as in duty they
  were bound, at continual command, so that every summer 1500 or 2000
  of them were employed to the places aforesaid....

  Afterwards the players began to play on the Bankside, and to leave
  playing in London and Middlesex, for the most part, then there went
  such great concourse of people by water that the small number of
  watermen remaining at home were not able to carry them, by reason
  of the court, the terms, the players, and other employments, so
  that we were enforced and encouraged, hoping that this golden
  stirring world would have lasted ever, to take and entertain men
  and boys ... so that the number of watermen, and those that live
  and are maintained by them, and by the only labour of the oar and
  the scull, betwixt the bridge of Windsor and Gravesend, cannot be
  fewer than forty thousand; the cause of the greater half of which
  multitude, hath been the players playing on the bankside, for I
  have known three companies besides the bear-baiting at once there,
  to wit, the Globe, the Rose, and the Swan.”

Loud complaints being made by the artificers of London that foreign
goods were underselling theirs, the King in 1461 prohibited the
importation or sale of the following articles—the list of which shows
some of the manufactures at that time established in London:—

[Illustration: NEAR PAUL’S WHARF

E. Gardner’s Collection.]

“Any manner girdles, nor any harness wrought for girdles, points, laces
of lether, purses, pouches, pins, gloves, knives, hangers, tailors’
shears, scissors, andirons, cobordis, tongs, fire forks, gridirons;
stocks, locks, keyes, hinges and garnets, spurs; painted papers,
painted focers, paynted images, painted clothes, any between gold or
between silver, wrought in papers for painters; saddles, saddle-trees,
horse harness, boocis, bits, stirrups, buckles, chains, laten nails
with iron shanks, terrets, standing candlesticks, hanging candlesticks,
holy water stoops, chafing dishes, hanging lavers, curtain rings, cards
for wool, clasps for gloves, buckles for shoes, brooches, bells (except
bells for hawks), spoons of tin and lead, chains of wire as well as
of laten as of iron, gratis, horns and lantern horns, or any of these
aforesaid wares, ready and wrought, pertaining to the said crafts above
specified or any of them uppon payne of forfeture of all the wares.”
(Capper’s _Port and Trade of London_.) We have seen (p. 13) how Henry
VII. passed an Act forbidding any stranger, _i.e._ foreigner, to buy
or sell merchandise in the City; in his reign also was passed an Act
to compel the country people to resort to the City. For it was ordered
that no citizen should carry goods to any market or fair out of the
City. The people of the country represented to Parliament the great
hardship of being obliged to travel all the way to London in order to
procure things that could only be bought in London, viz. chalices,
books, vestments, and other church ornaments, victuals for Lent, linen
cloths, woollen cloths, brass, pewter, bedding, iron, flax, wax, and
other things. The Parliament interfered and the order was removed.

[Illustration: TRADESMEN OF THE PERIOD

From a contemporary print.]

Under Henry VII. commercial treaties were concluded with the Danes and
with the Florentines. There was a quarrel with Burgundy and a cessation
of commercial relations for three years. In 1497 (12 Hen. VII.) was
passed an Act entitled “Every Englishman shall have free recourse to
certain foreign marts, without exaction to be taken by any English
fraternity.” The meaning of the Act was this: the Merchant Adventurers’
Company had arrogated to themselves the right of refusing the right of
trade in any foreign port until a fine or fee of £40 should first be
paid to themselves. The Act defined the extent of English foreign trade
at the time. The Merchant Adventurers sent their vessels to Spain,
Portugal, Brittany, Flanders, Holland, Ireland, Normandy, France,
Venice, Dantzic, Eastland, Friesland, and other parts. The Parliament
allowed the fine, but limited it to ten marks, or £6:13:4. We have seen
the jealousy and hatred of foreigners shown by the envious outbreak of
“Evil May Day” in 1517 (p. 24). The complaints or the justification
of the rioters was that there were so many foreigners employed as
craftsmen that the English could get no work; that foreign merchants
brought in all silk, cloth of gold, wine, etc., and that no one,
almost, bought of an Englishman; that the foreign merchants exported
so much wool, tin, and lead, that English adventurers could not make
a living; that they forestalled the market, buying up everything all
round the City, so that nothing of value came to the City markets,
while some of them imported all kinds of goods that were made in this
country, such as nails, locks, baskets, cupboards, stools, tables,
chests, girdles, saddles, and printed cloths.




                              CHAPTER III

                          LITERATURE AND ART


The earliest transcribers of MSS., that is to say, publishers of books,
the monks, not only transcribed MSS., but they sold their copies,
the sale of books forming part of the monastic revenues. These books
were either plain copies for common use, as the service books and
the school books, or they were illuminated, bound with decorations
of gold and silver, costing very large sums. When, however, as
happened in the fifteenth century, the demand for books increased,
while the revenues, and therefore the numbers, of the religious in
the monasteries decreased, the multiplication of books fell into the
hands of laymen. In some cases the monks themselves employed laymen as
transcribers. There grew up various branches of the book trade: the
maker of parchment, pens, ink, colours for illumination; the writers,
the binders, the illuminators, and the sellers. As regards the value
of books at any time, it is impossible to estimate it, because we must
first learn the purchasing power of money, which is very difficult
to ascertain; _e.g._ the price of wheat, sheep, fowls, etc., is a
very fallacious test, because we do not know the standards of the
time. The wage test is the safest guide. For instance, six pounds
a year was thought sufficient pay for the maintenance of a chantry
priest—a man considered superior to the ordinary craftsman, yet not
very high in the social scale. In addition we must know the whole
conditions of production; the cost of materials, the time taken by
transcribers for a page or a sheet, the demand, the competition, and
everything else connected with the work. Some of these points have
been cleared up, but most of them can never be cleared up. It must be
sufficient to understand that there was a large demand for books, and
that many collections of books were formed by princes and prelates
and monasteries. It was a providential circumstance that the art of
printing was well advanced at the time of the Dissolution of the
Religious Houses. Otherwise the losses, which were great indeed, might
have been very much greater, even irreparable.

The first printers in the City of London were Caxton’s workmen,
Wynkyn de Worde and Richard Pynson. The former set up his press in
Fleet Street, “over against the Conduit,” which stood at the end of
Shoe Lane; the latter, outside Temple Bar. In the course of the
century, however, the number of printers rapidly increased, and in
the reign of Elizabeth the number of books published in any branch
was extraordinary. Nothing can show more conclusively the general
avidity for learning and for the possession of books in every branch
of knowledge. When, indeed, we consider that the yearly output of
books in Great Britain and America now amounts to some 10,000 (a large
number of them new editions), which at an average of 1000 each means
10,000,000 volumes among a population of 120,000,000, who nearly all
read, without counting India, which alone contains millions of readers,
and when we remember that the whole reading public of England amounted
to a few thousands, it is clear that the Elizabethan output was beyond
comparison greater in proportion than our own.

[Illustration: OLD TEMPLE BAR IN THE TIME OF JAMES I.

E. Gardner’s Collection.]

It could not be long before a censorship of the Press was established.
In 1526 the printing of books against the Catholic Faith was
prohibited. Later on, that of books defending the Catholic Faith was in
turn prohibited.

It was in 1557 that the very singular powers were conferred upon the
Company of Stationers of suppressing and prohibiting books either
seditious or heretical. These powers were absolute and subject to no
appeal. Why the Company of Stationers was entrusted with powers which
belonged to the Bishop of London and the Ecclesiastical Courts does
not appear. However, the Company exercised this authority for two
years, when Queen Elizabeth ordered that no book should be printed
without a license being first obtained. She then, illogically, granted
monopolies to certain printers and booksellers for the sale of certain
books specified: to one for the sale of Bibles; to another for sale
of catechism; to a third for that of music-books; and so on. To the
Stationers she granted the monopoly of psalters, primers, almanacks, A
B C, the “little Catechism,” and Nowell’s English and Latin Catechism.
The printer, however, was already separating from the bookseller. As
yet there was no such thing recognised as the author’s rights over his
own property. In many cases he did not wish his name to appear; the
publisher did what he pleased with the MS.

Among the early booksellers was Richard Grafton, who was printer,
bookseller, and author as well. He reprinted and continued Hall’s
_Chronicles_. Other publishers and booksellers of the sixteenth century
were Robert Redman, who quarrelled with Richard Pynson; Henry Pepwell,
who died in 1539; John Day, for whom John Foxe, who wrote the _Book
of Martyrs_, worked. He issued a Church music book. He also published
Bibles, Sermons, and A B C’s. Day had shops successively in Holborn,
Aldersgate Street, and St. Paul’s Churchyard. William Middleton, whose
shop was in Fleet Street, near St. Dunstan’s Church, was both printer
and bookseller. He published Heywood’s _Four P’s_, and an edition of
Froissart.

Henry Smyth, Redman’s son-in-law, was the publisher of Littleton’s
_Tenures_. Richard Tottell, whose shop was within Temple Bar, published
Tusser’s _Hundred Good Points of Agriculture_, Grafton’s _Abridgment
of the Chronicles of England_, and Stow’s _Summary of the Chronicles
of England_. Harrison of St. Paul’s Churchyard published Shakespeare’s
_Venus and Adonis_ in 1593, but it was printed by Richard Field, a
fellow-townsman of the poet. In 1594 Harrison published _The Rape of
Lucrece_. The publication of the plays, however, belongs mostly to the
seventeenth century. But _Romeo and Juliet_, _Richard II._, _Richard
III_, _Henry IV._ Part I., _Love’s Labours Lost_, were published
at this time, and in 1600 _Henry IV._ Part II., _Much Ado About
Nothing_, _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_, _The Merchant of Venice_, _Titus
Andronicus_, and _Henry V._ all came out. In all, eleven of the plays
were published in the sixteenth and the rest in the seventeenth century.

There was an astonishing number of printers and booksellers. Thus, in
addition to the names mentioned above, we may note those of Middleton,
Richard Field, Harrison, father and son, William Leake, Wise, Aspley,
Ling, and Nathaniel Butler, Ponsonby, Edward White, Cadman, Burby,
Warde, William Barley, Humphrey Hooper, John Budge, Thorpe, and Norton.

Already the bitterness of the author against the publisher has begun.
Drayton speaks of the booksellers as “a company of base knaves, whom
I scorn and kick at.” Complaint was made concerning a book called _A
Petite Palace of Petties his Pleasure_ (1576), that the printer had
suppressed the name of the author, and his preface, and had substituted
his own name with a preface by himself. Again, the authors complained
of the advertising tricks employed to increase the sale of a book.
Thus, Ben Jonson addresses his bookseller:—

    “‘Thou, that mak’st gaine thy end, and wisely well
    Call’st a book good, or bad, as it doth sell,
    Use mine so, too: I give thee leave. But crave
    For luck’s sake it thus much favours have,
    To lie upon thy stall till it be sought;
    Not offer’d, as it made suit to be bought:
    Nor have my title-leaf on post, or walls,
    Or in cleft-sticks, advanced to make calls
    For termers or some clerk-like serving-man,
    Who scarce can spell th’ hard names: whose knight scarce can;
    If, without these vile arts it will not sell,
    Send it to Bucklersbury, there ‘twill well.’”

Unfortunately, also, the bitterness of the author against the
bookseller was accompanied by bitterness against his fellow-craftsmen.
Thus Barnaby Rich says:—

“‘One of the diseases of this age is the multitude of books, that doth
so overcharge the world that it is not able to digest the abundance of
idle matter that is every day hatched and brought into the world, that
are as divers in their forms as their authors be in their faces. It is
but a thriftless and a thankless occupation, this writing of books:
a man were better to sit singing in a cobbler’s shop, for his pay is
certain a penny a patch, but a book-writer, if he gets sometimes a few
commendations of the judicious, he shall be sure to reap a thousand
reproaches of the malicious.’” (W. Roberts, _Earlier History of English
Bookselling_.)

This brief view of bookselling in the sixteenth century may be taken
to include also the first twenty years of the seventeenth, after which
certain changes appear in the trade and in the relations of author and
publisher.

Little has been said, so far, concerning the connection of London
with literature. The history of literature belongs to the nation, not
to London. Yet London could even before the Elizabethan age boast of
Chaucer, Gower, Skelton, Lydgate, all of whom, at some time in their
lives, resided in London. And what a list, what a splendid list, is
presented of the London poets in the reign of Gloriana! This list
alone, without counting the poets who went before or the poets who
came after, is sufficient in itself to place England in the forefront
of modern literature. Consider some of the names. Shakespeare, Ben
Jonson, Marlowe, Massinger, Beaumont, Fletcher, Ford, Peele, Marston,
Sackvile, Sylvester, Spenser, Raleigh—one could go on till the page
became a catalogue. I have counted two hundred and forty Elizabethan
poets whose names, with many of their works, have survived to the
present day. In the same proportion we, who can hardly number sixty
poets, ought to have now 5000. But in that time expression assumed the
form of poetry first and the drama afterwards; men who had a thing to
say, or a theory to state, said it in poetry, just as a man who had a
tale to tell presented it in the form of a drama. Not that poetry or
the drama were the only things. The Elizabethan age was rich in every
form and branch of literature; it had books of chivalry, as _The Seven
Champions_; story books, as _The Gesta Romanorum_; jest books, as
Skogan’s, Tarleton’s, Skelton’s, Peele’s; pastoral romances, as _The
Arcadia_; “picaresque” novels, as those of Nash and Dekker; histories,
as those of Holinshed, Stow, Grafton; essays, as those of Bacon,
Ascham, Sir Thomas Browne; satires, as those of Hall and Marston;
translations from the French and the Italian. Not even in these days
is there a better, larger, fresher supply of new literature. It was
above all fresh; everything was new; people did not look backwards in
literature; they lived in the present; at no other time in the history
of the world was the present more delightful; more full of hope, more
full of joy, more full of daring. There was a new religion, not yet
crystallised into Puritanism: a religion in which every man, for the
first time after more than a thousand years, stood up before his
Maker without an interposing priest; there was a new learning, full of
wonder and of delight; there were new arts; there was a new world, a
larger world, full of mysteries and monsters and undiscovered marvels;
there was a new pride sprung up among the people; new adventures were
possible; there were new roads to riches; England held a nobler place
among the nations; everything seemed possible; the wildest extravagance
was permitted in talk, in song, in the drama, in enterprise. Companies
could be formed to go anywhere, and to do everything. Countries there
were everywhere to be conquered, or, at least, to trade with; no longer
did ocean set bounds, no longer did continents stretch forth forbidding
capes: the nobler spirits were arriving at a clearer grasp and
understanding of what lay before them; the machinations of Spaniard,
Pope, and Priest were, it seemed, finally defeated; everything was
ready for the work of such men as Raleigh and Drake. Then, alas!
Gloriana died, and the world of poetry sank sadly back into prose, and
that for the most part of the tamest and the most creeping; an age
followed when King and people were no longer in touch; when foreign
politics were a betrayal and a surrender; when the whole dream of the
King was not to extend and enrich his realm, but to encroach upon the
people’s liberties, and the whole power of the people was required to
resist the encroachments of the King. How mean and miserable is the
policy of Charles compared with that of Elizabeth! How paltry are the
pretensions of King and Archbishop! How wretched, save for the figure
of the great Protector, is the history of the seventeenth century,
compared with the history of the sixteenth under the great Queen!

[Illustration: SIR FRANCIS BACON (1561–1626)

From the painting by Paul Van Somer in the National Portrait Gallery,
London.]

[Illustration: WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (1564–1616)

From the Chandos portrait in the National Portrait Gallery, London.]

Harrison furnishes a contemporary opinion on “the new veine of
writing”:—

  “This further is not to be omitted, to the singular commendation
  of both sorts and sexes of our courtiers here in England, that
  there are verie few of them, which have not the use and skill of
  sundrie speaches, beside an excellent veine of writing before time
  not regarded. Trulie it is a rare thing with us now, to hear of a
  courtier which hath but his owne language. And to saie how many
  gentlewomen and ladies there are, that beside sound knowledge of
  the Greeke and Latine toongs, are thereto no lesse skilful in the
  Spanish, Italian, and French or in some one of them, it resteth
  not in me; sith I am persuaded, that as the noblemen and gentlemen
  do surmount in this behalfe, so these come verie little or nothing
  at all behind them for their parts, which industrie God continue,
  and accomplish that which otherwise is wanting.”... “The ladies of
  the court employ themselves in continuall reading either of the
  holie scriptures, or histories of our owne or forren nations about
  us, and diverse in writing volumes of their owne, or translating
  of other mens into our English and Latine toongs.”... “Finallie,
  to avoid idlenesse, and prevent sundrie transgressions, otherwise
  likelie to be committed and doone, such order is taken, that
  everie office hath either a bible, or the booke of the acts and
  monuments of the church of England, or both, beside some histories
  and chronicles lieing therein, for the exercise of such as come
  into the same; whereby the stranger that entereth into the court
  of England upon the sudden, shall rather imagine himselve to come
  into some public schools of the universities, where manie give eare
  to one that readeth, than unto a princes palace if you conferre
  the same with those of other nations. Would to God all honorable
  personages would take example of hir graces godlie, dealing in
  this behalfe, and shew their conformitie unto these hir so good
  beginnings which if they would, then should manie grievous offenses
  (wherewith God is highlie displeased) be cut off and restreined,
  which now doo reigne exceedinglie, in most noble and gentlemen’s
  houses, whereof they see no paterne within hur graces gates.”
  (Holinshed’s _Chronicles_.)

Leaving the great masters, let us consider a little the more popular
literature of the day; the kind which has its run among the people
and is forgotten; the current literature, the books of the time, the
works which were bought and read by those of the citizens who read at
all, probably as large a proportion as we should find at the present
day, when the newspaper is the only reading of multitudes. It is
not difficult to arrive at what constituted a library. There were
religious books, such as Hooper’s _Sermons_; there were collections of
songs, such as _The Court of Venus_, against which the clergy spoke
vehemently; books of chivalry and novels in great numbers, such as
_Bevis of Hampton_, _Guy of Warwick_, _Arthur of the Round Table_,
_Huon of Bordeaux_, _Oliver of the Castle_, _Four Sons of Aymon_,
_The Witless Devices of Gargantua_ and _Howleglas_. There were the
English stories, _Robin Hood_, _Adam Bell_, _Friar Rushe_, _The Foole
of Gotham_. There were satires and fables; _Æsop_, Erasmus’s _Praise
of Folly_, _The Schoolhouse of Women_, _The Defense of Women_, _Piers
Plowman_, _Raynolde the Fox_, _The Palace of Pleasure_. There were
translations, as _Virgil_, _Seneca_, and _Apulosius_; there were books
of instruction, as _The Boke of Carvynge_, _The Boke of Cokerye_,
_The Boke of Nurture for Men servants_, _The Boke of Fortune_, _The
Boke of Curtesey_, _The Boke of Chesse_, and _The Hundred Points of
Good Husserye_. These titles are taken from actual lists before me;
the presses were extremely active and the output of books was very
considerable during the whole of Elizabeth’s long reign. In a word,
there was as great a variety of books for the reader’s choice as there
is now, setting aside the modern books in science; there were poets by
the hundred, dramatists, novelists of all kinds, historians, preachers,
moralists, and essayists. It would take too much space and time were I
to attempt an estimate or an account of the Elizabethan literature.

[Illustration: EDMUND SPENSER (1552(?)-1599)

From an engraving by George Vertue.]

There was, however, one form of literature then playing a very
important part in the education of the people which has been too much
neglected by those who write of the sixteenth century. It was the
ballad. In the last century, if a man had a thing to say, he wrote a
pamphlet; at present if he has a thing to say and desires that the
people at large should hear it, he either casts it into the form of a
novel, or he sends it to the papers as a letter or as a communication.
The Elizabethan, on the other hand, cast it into the form of verse;
the ballad expressed the popular opinion; by means of the ballad
that opinion was formed and taught; by means of the ballad events
were recorded and remembered. Every event produced its own ballad. I
have before me a list of a hundred ballads, taken at random from the
registers of the Stationers’ Company, published for the Shakespeare
Society in 1849 by Payne Collier. From these registers it is evident
that the ballad, as sung in private houses, in taverns, at fairs, and
where people congregated; in the streets, in the markets, and at the
Carrefours where stood the Cross and the Conduit, taught and led the
people as the Press now teaches and leads them. There was a great
competition in the production of new ballads; the printers vied with
each other in getting the latest or the most striking event turned
into ballad form and put upon the market. These ballads were written
on every conceivable subject. In order to illustrate their importance
I have compiled the following list roughly classified. The titles in
almost all cases indicate the contents and aim of the ballad. Some of
them are very well written.

                 I.—RELIGIOUS

    O Lord who harte in Heaven so high.
    The XV. Chapter of St. Paule.
    Blessed are the Dead which dye in the Lord.
    King Joseas.
    Lo! here I lye a sinner.
    The Just and Patient Job.
    Godly, constant, wyse, Susannah.
    Wisdom would I wish to have.
    The Lamentation of a Damned Soul.
    The Woman taken in Adultery.
    Mercy’s Fort.

                   II.—MORAL

    Persuading Men from Swearing.
    Against Covetousness.
    Old Age and Youth.
    The House of a Harlot.
    Rustrius and Sapience.
    Manners for Matrons.
    The Cuckoo.
    A Rule for Women to bring up their Daughters.
    Have Pity on the Poor.
    The Abuses of Wyne, Dyce, and Women.

                III.—POLITICAL

    Lady Jane’s Lament (_i.e._ Lady Jane Grey).
    Guyn the chefe of that greedy garrison.
    How a Mayde should sweep your House Clean (the “Mayde” is Queen Elizabeth).
    News out of Kent.
    Lady Englonde.

                  IV.—TOPICAL

    On the Loss of the _Greyhound_
       (with Sir T. Finch and two hundred men).
    Burnyng of Paule’s.

        “Lament each over the blazing fire
        That downe from Heaven came,
        And burned S. Powles his lofty spyre
        With lightning’s furious flame.
        Lament, I say,
        Both night and day,
        Sith London’s sin did cause the same.”

                  V.—GENERAL

    Tom Long the Carrier.
    Come merry home, John.
    Patient Grissel.
    The Bachelor.

    “Hough! For the Bachelor! Merry doth he live,
      All the day long he can daunce sing and playe:
    His troubles are like to water in a sieve,
      The more it floweth in, the more it will away:
    This is the verie truth I doe declare and saye.
      Maryed men for him may sit, sighe, and grone,
      He is well content and letteth well alone.”

    Give place ye Ladies.

        “Her rosial colour comes and goes
          With such a comely grace!
        More ruddie, too, than doth the rose,
          Within her lively face.”

    Cruelness of Wicked Women.
    A Fairing.
    The Hunt is Up.
    The Ballad of Broomes.

    “New broomes, greene broomes, will you buy any?
    Come, maidens, come quickly, let me take a penny.”

    The Ballad of Milkmaids.

  (The Milkmaids did not like being called Malkins. The name Malkin
  is a diminutive of Mary, and was used in the sense of slattern or
  country wench.)

    “Passe not for rybalds which mylke maydes defame,
      And call them not Malkins, poor Malkins by name:
    Their trade is as good as anie we knowe
      And that it is so I will presently showe.
                          Downe & Downe &c.”

    A Merry Rhyme concerning Butchers, Graysors,
      Schole maisters and Tankard Bearers.
    Ruffle, Sleeves and Hose.
    The Nut Brown Mayd.
    Row well ye marynors.
    God send me a wyfe that will do as I say.

This list might be multiplied indefinitely. Enough has been given to
show that the ballad was the principal medium by which the people were
moved and taught. One would not underrate the power of the sermon.
At no time, not even in the seventeenth century, was the sermon more
powerful than under Elizabeth; but the sermon chiefly treated of
doctrine and the ballads taught morals and the conduct of life. Nay,
in these cases, which were many, when a ballad secular, amatory,
scandalous, or immoral, had become popular, the clergy took it in hand
and moralised it: _i.e._ presented a religious parody of it, which they
persuaded the people to sing instead of the first version. For example,
here is part of a “moralised” ballad:—

    “To pass the place where pleasure is
      It ought to please one fantasie,
    If that the pleasure be amis,
      And to God’s Work plaine contrarie,
    Or else we sinne, we sinne,
    And hell we winne,
    Great panic therein
      All remedie gone.
    Except in Christ alone, alone.”

We must not forget to take account in this brief review of the topical
writings of the day of the difference of dialect. It is not too much
to say that a Norfolk countryman would not understand a Kentish lad;
and that a Yorkshire man would talk a strange tongue to a man of the
Midlands. Caxton says, writing a little earlier:—

  “Englishe that is spoken in one shire varyeth from another;
  insomuch, that in my dayes happened, that certain merchaunts were
  in a ship in Tamyse, for to have sailed over the see into Zelande,
  and for lacke of wynde they taryed att Forland, and went to land
  for to refresh them; and one of them, named Sheffelde, a mercer,
  came into a hows, and axed for mete, and specially he axed for
  egges; the good wyfe answerde that she could speke no French. And
  the merchaunt was angry, for he also could speake no French; but
  wolde have egges, and she understode hym not. And thenne at last
  another sayd, that he would have ceyren; thenne the good wyfe said,
  that she understode him.”

In the year 1592 was published a book in prose and verse by Richard
Johnson, entitled _The Nine Worthies of London_, inscribed to Sir
William Webbe, Lord Mayor of London. Its wide popularity proves that
it presents some, at least, of the ideas current among the people.
To begin with, the “Nine Worthies” are not by any means, with one
exception, those ancient citizens whom we should now consider of the
greatest renown. We do not find here the names of Thomas à Becket,
Whittington, Philpot, or Gresham. The things worthy to be remembered
are neither enterprise in trade, nor vigilance in guarding the
liberties of the City, nor the acquisition of wealth, nor charities
and endowments. The only thing worthy to be remembered, even among
citizens of London, is prowess of arms. The “Nine Worthies” come out,
one after the other, and relate their own achievements. It is certain
that Richard Johnson did not himself select these men for honourable
mention, because they are clearly referred to in a passage of the
_Paradise of daintie Devices_:—

    “The Worthies nine that were of might,
      By travaile wonne immortal praise;
    If they had lived like carpet knights,
      Consuming idly all their dayes,
    Their praises had been with them dead,
      Where now abroad their fame is spread.”

The work is reprinted in the _Harleian Miscellany_, vol. viii., from
which I take the following extracts: first, William Walworth (p. 443):—

    “But when I saw the rebells’ pride encrease,
      And none controll and counterchecke their rage;
    ’Twere service good (thought I) to purchase peace,
      And malice of contentious brags asswage;
    With this conceyt, all fear had taken flight.
      And I alone prest to the traitor’s sight.

    Their multitude could not amaze my minde,
      Their bloudie weapons did not make me shrink;
    True valour hath his constancie assignde,
      The eagle at the sunne will never winke;
    Amongst their troupes, incenst with mortall hate,
      I did arest Wat Tiler on the pate.

    The stroke was given with so good a will,
      I made the rebell coutch unto the earth;
    His fellows that beheld (’tis strange) were still;
      It mar’d the manner of their former mirth;
    I left him not, but, ere I did depart,
      I stab’d my dagger to his damned heart.”

Second, Henry Picard, or Pilchard, who entertained the four kings of
England, Scotland, France, and Cyprus, with the Black Prince (p. 445):—

    “When Edward triumpht for his victories,
      And held three crownes within his conquering hand,
    He brought rich trophies from his enemies,
      That were erected in this happie land;
    We all rejoyc’d and gave our God the praise,
      That was the authour of those fortunate dayes.

    And as from Dover, with the prince his sonne,
      The king of Cypres, France, and Scots, did passe,
    All captive prisoners to this mightie one,
      Five thousand men and I the leader was;
    All well prepared as to defend a fort;
      Went forth to welcome him in martiall sort.

    The riches of our armour, and the cost,
      Each one bestows in honour of that day,
    Were here to be exprest but labour lost;
      Silke coates and chaines of golde bare little sway;
    And thus we marcht accepted of our king
      To whom our comming seem’d a gracious thing.

    But when the citie pearde within our sights,
      I carv’d a boune submisse upon my knee;
    To have his grace, those kings, with earles and knights,
      A day or two to banquet it with me;
    The king admirde, yet thankfully replide,
      ‘Unto my house both I and these will ride.’”

Third, William Sevenoake, who went over to France with Henry V. as a
lad just out of his apprenticeship, and there fought with the Dauphin
(p. 447):—

    “The Dolphyne then of France, a comelie knight,
      Disguised, came by chaunce into a place,
    Where I, well wearied with the heate of fight,
      Had layd me downe, for warre had ceast his chace;
    And with reproachful words, as layzie swaine
      He did salute me, ere I long had layne.

    I, knowing that he was mine enemie,
      A bragging French-man (for we tearm’d them so)
    Ill brookt the proud disgrace he gave to me
      And therefore, lent the Dolphyne such a blowe,
    As warm’d his courage well to lay about,
      Till he was breathlesse, though he were so stout.

    At last the noble prince did aske my name,
      My birth, my calling, and my fortunes past;
    With admiration he did heare the same,
      And so a bagge of crownes to me he cast;
    And when he went away, he saide to mee,
      ‘Sevenoake, be prowd, the Dolphyne fought with thee.’”

Fourth, Thomas White, who founded schools and almshouses (p. 449):—

    “I cannot sing of armes and blood-red warres,
      Nor was my collur mixt with Mars his hew;
    I honour those that ended countrey jarres,
      For herein subjects shew that they are trew;
    But privately at home I shewde my selfe,
      To be no lover of vaine worldly pelfe.

    My deedes have tongues to speak, though I surcease,
      My orators the learned strive to bee,
    Because I twined paulmes in time of peace,
      And gave such gifts, that made faire learning free;
    My care did build them bowers of sweet content,
      Where many wise their golden time have spent.

    A noyse of gratefull thankes within mine eares,
      Descending from their studies, glads my heart,
    That I began to wish with private teares,
      There lived more that were of White’s desert;
    But now I looke, and spie that time is balde,
      And Vertue comes not, being seldome calde.”

Fifth, John Bonham, citizen and mercer, who went to Denmark with his
merchandise, there was received at Court and distinguished himself at
a tournament—the only occasion on record of a merchant fighting in a
tournament—and finally led an army to victory over the Great Solyman,
who made him a knight after the defeat of the Turk:—

    “Then, at a parley he admirde me so;
      He made me knight and let his armie go.”

Sixth, Christopher Croker. Alas! the world has forgotten Christopher.
He was a vintner’s ’prentice. He was loved by Doll Stodie, his master’s
daughter; and he burned to give her a better position; he joined the
army of the Black Prince in France; distinguished himself there; went
with him to Spain, and returned a knight:—

    “And when Don Peter, driven out of Spaine,
      By an usurping bastard of his line,
    He craved some helpe his crowne to re-obtaine,
      That in his former glorie he might shine;
    Our king ten thousand sever’d from his host;
      My selfe was one, I speake it not in boast.

    With these Don Peter put the bastard downe,
      Each citie yielded at our first approch;
    It was not long ere he had got the crowne;
      And taught his wicked brother to encroch;
    In these affaires so well I shewed my might,
      That for my labour I was made a knight.

    Thus labour never looseth his reward;
      And he that seeks for honour sure shall speed;
    What craven mind was ever in regard?
      Or where consisteth manhood but in deed?
    I speake it, that confirm’d it by my life,
      And in the end, Doll Stodie was my wife.”

Seventh, John Hawkwood, the Prince of Mercenaries. He, too, belonged to
the Black Prince and was knighted by him.

Eighth, Hugh Caverley, silk weaver, who also became a knight in France
and signalised himself afterwards by slaying a monstrous wild boar
which devastated Poland.

Ninth, and last, Henry Maleverer, grocer, Knight Crusader and Custodian
of Jacob’s Well:—

    “And thus with love, with honour, and with fame,
      I did return to London whence I came.”

It is a curious list, and shows what legends of former citizens had
grown up in the minds of the people. They had clean forgotten the old
Patron Saints of London, St. Erkenwald and St. Thomas à Becket; they
had forgotten Philpot and his splendid achievement over the pirates
of the North Sea; they had forgotten Waleys, Mayor of Bordeaux and of
London; they had forgotten Dick Whittington; they had even forgotten
Gresham, and in place of the men who had made London and brought
wealth, prosperity, and freedom to the town, they remembered mythical
adventures and traditions of battle and of victory. One would like to
know more about the popular belief in “London Worthies.”

The wholesale destruction of MSS. and mediæval libraries, at the
Suppression of the Religious Houses, though doubtless a heavy loss from
an artistic point of view, considering the loss of illuminated books,
may be considered as compensated by the increased activity of the
press and the reconstruction of the library. What was actually lost to
literature? John Bale tells us, Manuscripts of the Fathers, Schoolmen,
and Commentators. Was this a loss? It is quite certain that the
monkish commentators regarded their text from a point of view no longer
held: the Holy Scriptures, they said, were lost. The manuscript copies
were very likely lost, but the press multiplied copies. I think that
the greatest loss to literature was the loss of certain chronicles,
of which we have so many left, which relate the history of current
events as the monkish scribe heard and understood them. In any case,
the destruction of so many books made it impossible, henceforward, to
consider a library as made up chiefly of manuscripts; the press rapidly
restored the books that were wanted; and gave the world a library
filled with printed books, while the old commentators were clean
forgotten.

The age of great folios and mighty scholars was the seventeenth,
rather than the sixteenth, century. In the sixteenth, scholars were
busy in putting forth new editions of the classics. Men like Dolet and
Rabelais were not ashamed to correct for the press. The voluminous
commentator came afterwards. Meantime, it is remarkable that we had
no Rabelais among our writers. He, formerly a friar, came out of the
cloister, his head filled with the old learning and eager for the new.
His great book became at once popular, and was eagerly passed from hand
to hand. The origins of his chapters have quite recently been explored
and discovered in Mr. W. F. Smith’s excellent translation. They are
shown to be chiefly extracts from gloss and commentary, burlesqued,
imitated, and held up to the ridicule and scorn of scholars. The common
people understood only the bubbling mirth and laughter, coupled with
the spontaneous unseemliness of the page; the scholar understood the
allegory and the purpose of the writer; the ecclesiastic alone, and
one of the older type, understood the true nature of the overwhelming
contempt and hatred of the order that was passing away—contempt and
hatred thinly veiled and concealed except for those who knew the gloss
and commentary of the past. We have no Rabelais; among all our friars
there was no scholar; among our ejected monks, if there were scholars,
they stuck by their order; among all the priests, monks, and friars,
who joined in the Reformation, there was not one who so despised the
old faith as to make it the theme of such a book as that of Rabelais.
Hatred there was in plenty, after the fires of Smithfield: hatred which
continued to flourish in our literature and still lingers; but not the
full bitterness of hatred, fear, contempt, and restlessness which fill
the pages of Rabelais, Étienne Dolet, and Bonaventure des Periers.

Painting in London practically began with the Tudors, and was brought
over to the City by Flemish and Dutch painters. Among these we find
the names of Lucas and Gerard Horenbout, Volpe, Gerbud Flick, Johannes
Corvus, Levina Terling, Susanna Horenbout, and Alice Carmillion. But
the great name of Holbein towers above all the rest. This painter was
born at Augsburg about 1497, went to Basle in 1516, and came to London
in 1526. He continued in London, with the exception of three visits to
Basle, until his death in 1543, residing first in a lodging on London
Bridge, and next in a house in the parish of St. Andrew Undershaft,
where he died.

As regards his contemporaries and successors, we are indebted to
the researches of the late John Gough Nichols for information on
this point. They are embodied in a paper published by the Society of
Antiquaries (xxxix. p. 19).

[Illustration: BEN JONSON (1573(?)-1637)

From the painting in the National Portrait Gallery, London, after
Gerard Honthorst.]

The earliest Court Painter to Henry VIII. was one John Browne. He
was appointed in 1511 a Serjeant Painter with a salary of twopence
a day and four ells of cloth, valued at 6s. 8d. an ell, annually.
Three pounds a year is not a large salary, but probably he was paid
in addition for any work which he might do; thus, he was paid forty
shillings for a painted tabard of sarsenet provided by him for
Nottingham Pursuivant. In 1522 he was elected Alderman for Farringdon
Without, and in 1525 he was discharged from office without having been
either Sheriff or Mayor. He gave by will to the Painter Stainers’
Company his house for their hall: the present Hall stands upon the site
of Browne’s bequest.

John Browne was succeeded as Serjeant Painter by Andrew Wright. This
painter received £30 for painting and decorating the King’s barge. He
had a manufactory of “pink,” a vegetable pigment used by painters at
that time; it was the Italian _giallo santo_ and the French _stel de
grain_. Wright died in 1543.

Vincent Volpe, a contemporary of the two preceding, supplied, in 1514,
streamers and banners for the King’s great ship, the _Henry Grace à
Dieu_. He is called in 1530 the “King’s Painter.” It is suggested that
it was Volpe who painted some of the military pictures at Hampton
Court. He also received money for the decoration of the King’s barge.
The “King’s Painter” seems to have held a higher rank than the Serjeant
Painter, for Volpe’s salary was £10 a year.

Two other Flemish artists, Lucas and Gerard Horenbout, were also in
the receipt of salaries from the King; their father was also, perhaps,
a painter and a Fleming. Their sister Susanna was a painter of
miniatures. She was the wife, first, of Henry Parker the King’s bowman,
and, secondly, of a sculptor named Worsley.

An Italian named Antonio Toto was a native of Florence, the son of a
painter and the pupil of Ridolpho. He was architect as well as painter.
His principal building was the strange palace of Nonsuch (see p. 89).
Toto was, like Andrew Wright, a Serjeant Painter. For the coronation of
Edward VI. he provided the tabards for the heralds; he also took charge
of the masques.

Another Italian attached to Henry’s Court was Bartolomo Penni. The
names of three women have been given above: Alice Carmillion was in
Henry’s service; Levina Terling in Edward’s, Mary’s, and Elizabeth’s
successively.

Holbein’s most illustrious successor among his contemporaries was
Guillim Streets, or Strettes. Among other paintings by this admirable
artist was one of the marriage of Queen Mary. The picture, however, is
lost.

Nicholas Lyzarde was Serjeant Painter to Queen Elizabeth. He died in
1571.

The names Antonio Moro and Joost van Cleef may also be added to those
of the painters who lived in London during the sixteenth century.

The decay of the London schools and of learning in general, which
undoubtedly began in the fifteenth century and continued until far
into the following century, is difficult to understand. One can only
form theories and make guesses. The fact cannot be disputed. There
were forces at work which have not been recorded. The Lollardry of the
late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries seems to have been in
great measure forgotten. Yet, as I have pointed out and proved, the
custom of making bequests to the Religious Houses declined and decayed
until it quite died away, long before the Reformation. The old spirit
of revolt left behind it a steady and persistent and growing spirit
of dissatisfaction. Perhaps this spirit was shown in the decay of the
monastic schools. We have seen how, in 1477, four of the London clergy
asked, and obtained, permission to found additional schools in four
parishes. The new schools could do little; the Reformation accelerated
the decay of learning partly by the abolition of the monastic schools;
partly by the vast reduction in the number of ecclesiastics; partly
by the loss of the endowments by which learning had been encouraged
and maintained: an increased trade, with foreign enterprise, also
attracted the younger men in numbers continually increasing. So few
were the undergraduates of Oxford that in Queen Mary’s reign only three
took a degree in Divinity during the space of six years; in Civil Law
only eleven; in Physic six; in Arts an average of about twenty-three.
Anthony à Wood writes: “There were none that had any heart to put their
children to any school, any farther than to learn to write—to make them
Apprentices or Lawyers.”

[Illustration:

_Spooner & Co._

HOLBEIN (1497–1543)

From the portrait by himself at Hampton Court.]

I would enumerate among the causes of the general decay in learning:
(1) the unsettled nature of religious opinions; (2) the changed ideas
concerning education; (3) the destruction of the Houses, which, if
they turned out few scholars, offered a quiet home for the studious;
(4) the advance in trade and enterprise, which attracted the youth of
London far more than study; (5) the contempt into which the mass of
the Protestant clergy had fallen; (6) a feeling of uneasiness about
scholarship, lest it should bring one to the stake, of which there had
been presented many terrifying examples.

Of music there is a much nobler record. Never before had the people
been such great lovers of music, and such admirable proficients. In
every barber’s shop was hung a zither or a guitar; anybody played;
everybody sang. Henry VIII. himself was a composer of no mean
capability, and a performer equal to any. Elizabeth upon the virginals
was unequalled. Many of the anthems and madrigals of the period survive
to this day and are still sung. The music of the Chapel Royal was
held to be better than anything of the kind in Western Europe. Would
that the musical tastes and traditions of London had been preserved!
They were destroyed by the Puritans. They were destroyed slowly but
effectively. At the Restoration it was still the custom for gentlemen
to play and sing; but not, apparently, for the trading and lower
classes; during the last century, neither gentlefolk nor any other folk
could play or sing; music ceased to be cultivated by the people. Nor
have we yet, even, begun to be a people given to music; it is still
comparatively rare to find boys who are taught to play any instrument;
at no public school is it thought to be an essential part of education.
Perhaps the twentieth century may witness a revival of the national
love for music.




                              CHAPTER IV

                             GOG AND MAGOG


It seems impossible to ascertain why these names were bestowed upon the
City Giants. The prophet Ezekiel (chs. xxxviii. and xxxix.) prophesies
against “Gog, the land of Magog, the Chief Prince of Meshech, and
Tubal.” In the Book of Revelation (xx. 8) Satan goes out “to deceive
the nations which are in the four quarters of the earth, Gog and
Magog.” How were these names applied to City Giants? It was a common
thing to have a City Giant who was carried in processions; there
were giants at Chester, Salisbury, and Coventry; there were giants
at Antwerp, Bruges, Ghent, Douai, Lille, and Brussels. The giants
were in every case connected in some way with the legendary history
of the City. But while every city had its own giant, who was brought
out on festive occasions, this did not prevent the construction of
other giants. Thus, after the victory of Agincourt, when Henry V.
was received by a pageant of extraordinary splendour, a giant and a
giantess stood on the Southwark end of London Bridge to greet him.
The giant carried in his right hand an axe, and in the left the City
keys, as if he were the porter of the town. In 1432, when Henry VI.
came to England after his Coronation in France, there was another giant
at London Bridge. He stood with drawn sword, and had at his side the
following verses written out large:—

    “All those that be enemies to the King,
      I shall them clothe with confusion,
    Make him mighty by virtuous living,
      His mortal foes to oppress and bear them down;
      And bid him to increase as Christ’s champion.
    All mischiefs from him to abridge,
    With grace of God, at the entry of this Bridge.”
                                              _Lord Mayor’s Pageants._

In 1547, when the boy-king Edward passed through the City, among the
figures presented to him were two representing Valentine and Orson.

In 1554, when Philip came to London, there was a great pageant to
receive him with the Queen. At the drawbridge of the Tower there were
placed the two giants, Corineus and Gogmagog, holding between them a
scroll inscribed with Latin verses.

In January 1559, when Queen Elizabeth rode through the City she was
received with a pageant of great splendour. At Temple Bar the last show
was that of the two City Giants, Corineus and Gogmagog, who had between
them a recapitulation of the whole pageant. Here the singing children
made a “noise,” while one of them, attired like a poet, bade the Queen
farewell in the name of the City.

The giants seem to have been omitted from the Royal pageants and
processions of the seventeenth century.

In 1605 the Lord Mayor’s Pageant was adorned by the presence of the
giants.

“The first Pageant was ‘The Shippe called the Royall Exchange,’ in
which takes place a short poetical dialogue between the master, mate
and boy, who congratulate themselves on the fortunate termination of
their voyage at this auspicious time, the master ending the dialogue by
a punning allusion to the Mayor’s name, when he declared his intention

    ‘To make this up a cheerful _Holi-day_.’

Neptune and Amphitrite appear upon a lion and camel; and Corineus and
Gogmagog, two huge giants, ‘for the more grace and beauty of the show,’
were fettered by chains of gold to ‘Britains Mount,’ the principal
pageant; which they appeared to draw, and upon which children were
seated, representing Britannia; ‘Brute’s divided kingdoms,’ Leogria,
Cambria, and Albania; ‘Brute’ himself, his sons Locrine, Camber, and
Albanact; Troya Nova, or London; and the Rivers Thames, Severn, and
Humber, who each declaim in short speeches, the purport of which is
that as England, Wales, and Scotland were first sundered by Brutus to
supply his three sons with a kingdom each, they are now again happily
united in ‘our second Brute,’ King James the first.” (Fairholt, _Lord
Mayor’s Pageants_.)

The giants disappeared from the Lord Mayor’s Pageants soon after this.
In 1633, Clod, a country-man, in Shirley’s _Contention for Honour and
Riches_, says:—

“When the word is given, you march to Guildhall, with every man his
spoon in his pocket, where you look upon the giants, and feed like
Saracens, till you have no stomach to Paul’s in the afternoon.”
(_Ibid._)

In the Lord Mayor’s Pageant for 1673 the giants came out again. This
pageant was designed by Thomas Jordan. It appears to have been their
first appearance after the Fire.

“I must not omit to tell you, that marching in the van of these five
pageants, are two exceeding rarities to be taken notice of; that is,
there are two extreme great giants, each of them at least fifteen foot
high, that do sit and are drawn by horses in two several chariots,
moving, talking, and taking tobacco as they ride along, to the great
admiration and delight of all the spectators; at the conclusion of
the show they are to be set up in Guildhall, where they may be daily
seen all the year, and I hope never to be demolished by such dismal
violence as happened to their predecessors; which are raised at the
peculiar and proper cost of the city.” (_Ibid._)

It would seem that in many of the pageants it was not thought necessary
to set down the fact that the giants formed part, for in Henley’s
Orations (1730–1755) there is one on the Lord Mayor’s Show which
contains the following passage: “On that day, the two giants have the
priviledge, if they think it proper, to walk out and keep holiday; one
on each side of the great horse would aggrandize the solemnity, shew
consisting often in bulk.” (_Ibid._)

In Stow’s description of the setting of the watch on Midsummer’s Eve,
he says: “The Mayor had, beside his giants, three pageants, whereas
the Sheriffs had only two, besides their giants.” In Marston’s _Dutch
Courtezan_, acted 1605, an allusion is made to the giants: “yet all
will scarce make me so high as one of the gyant’s stilts that stalks
before my Lord Mayor’s Pageants.”

George Wither (1661) calls the giants “Big-boned Colbrant and great
Brandsmore.”

    “The giants at Guildhall ...
       •       •       •       •       •
    Where they have had a place to them assigned
    At public meetings, now time out of mind.”

The last appearance of the giants in a procession was in 1837, when
they graced the Lord Mayor’s Show.

The legends of the City Giants were two in number. The first related
how Brutus, one of the Trojan heroes, wandering after the Fall of Troy,
like Æneas, came to Britain, which he found full of giants. He fought
with these giants and destroyed them all except two, named Gog and
Magog, whom he brought to his new City of London and chained to the
palace gates. Another legend relates how Corineus, brother of Brutus,
fought the giants Gog and Magog, and, being himself stronger than his
unwieldy antagonists, threw them headlong into the sea. The two giants
of Guildhall, according to this legend, were Corineus and Gogmagog. The
names of Gog and Magog were certainly taken either from Ezekiel or the
Book of Revelation, and were applied to the giants after Corineus had
been forgotten, as the names of princes over an infidel people: they
were represented, not as tutelary giants, but as conquered giants. It
will be observed that one is represented as a Roman, with helmet and
shield, sword, spear, and armour, while the other is apparelled, after
the artist’s imagination, as an ancient Briton.

They were originally made of wicker-work; after the Great Fire, which
destroyed them, they were reconstructed of the same materials, but in
1707 they were made of wood, as we now see them.




                              SOCIAL LIFE

                               CHAPTER I

                          MANNERS AND CUSTOMS


In this chapter we can make a large use of contemporary literature.
Thus, the first consideration in treating of the manners and customs of
the people is naturally the position of the wife and the consideration
shown to her. I do not think that in any country could either the
position of the wife or the consideration for her surpass what was then
in vogue in London. This point Emanuel van Meteren, writing in 1575,
makes abundantly clear, even while he contends the exact opposite, viz.
that the wife is entirely in the power of the husband. For he shows
that whatever the law may be—he does not quote the law—the practice is
that the wife has entire liberty; and custom, _i.e._ public opinion,
against which no husband would dare to move, secures her that liberty.
This is what he says:—

“Wives in England are entirely in the power of their husbands,
their lives only excepted. Therefore when they marry, they give up
the surname of their father and of the family from which they are
descended, and take the surname of their husbands, except in the
case of duchesses, countesses, and baronesses, who, when they marry
gentlemen of inferior degree, retain their first name and title, which,
for the ambition of the said ladies, is rather allowed than commended.
But although the women are entirely in the power of their husbands
except for their lives, yet they are not kept so strictly as they are
in Spain, or elsewhere. Nor are they shut up, but they have the free
management of the house or housekeeping, after the fashion of those of
the Netherlands and others their neighbours. They go to market to buy
what they like best to eat. They are well-dressed, fond of taking it
easy, and commonly leave the care of household matters and drudgery
to their servants. They sit before their doors, decked out in fine
clothes, in order to see and be seen by the passers-by. In all banquets
and feasts they are shown the greatest honour; they are placed at
the upper end of the table, where they are the first served; at the
lower end they help the men. All the rest of their time they employ
in walking and riding, in playing at cards or otherwise, in visiting
their friends and keeping company, conversing with their equals (whom
they term gossips) and their neighbours, and making merry with them at
child-births, christenings, churchings, and funerals; and all this with
the permission and knowledge of their husbands, as such is the custom.
Although the husbands often recommend to them the pains, industry,
and care of the German or Dutch women, who do what the men ought to
do both in the house and in the shops, for which services in England
men are employed, nevertheless the women usually persist in retaining
their customs. This is why England is called the Paradise of married
women. The girls who are not yet married are kept much more rigorously
and strictly than in the Low Countries. The women are beautiful, fair,
well-dressed and modest, which is seen there more than elsewhere, as
they go about the streets without any covering either of mantle, hood,
veil, or the like. Married women only wear a hat both on the street
and in the house; those unmarried go without a hat, although ladies of
distinction have lately learnt to cover their faces with silken masks
or vizards, and feathers,—for indeed they change very easily, and that
every year, to the astonishment of many.”

If this was the ordinary life of the London merchant’s wife, the
following is the contemporary ideal (Gervase Markham):—

“Next unto her sanctity and holiness of life, it is meet that our
English Housewife be a woman of great modesty and temperance, as well
inwardly as outwardly; inwardly, as in her behaviour and carriage
towards her husband, wherein she shall shun all violence of rage,
passion and humour, coveting less to direct than to be directed,
appearing ever unto him pleasant, amiable and delightful; and tho’
occasion of mishaps, or the mis-government of his will may induce her
to contrary thoughts, yet vertuously to suppress them, and with a
mild sufferance rather to call him home from his error, than with the
strength of anger to abate the least spark of his evil, calling into
her mind, that evil and uncomely language is deformed, though uttered
even to servants; but most monstrous and ugly, when it appears before
the presence of a husband; outwardly, as in her apparel, and dyet, both
which she shall proportion according to the competency of her husband’s
estate and calling, making her circle rather strait than large; for it
is a rule, if we extend to the uttermost, we take away increase; if
we go a hair’s breadth beyond, we enter into consumption; but if we
preserve any part, we build strong forts against the adversaries of
fortune, provided that such preservation be honest and conscionable;
for as lavish prodigality is brutish, so miserable covetousness is
hellish. Let therefore the Housewife’s garments be comely and strong,
made as well to preserve the health, as to adorn the person, altogether
without toyish garnishes, or the gloss of bright colours, and as far
from the vanity of new and fantastick fashions, as near to the comely
imitation of modest matrons. Let her dyet be wholesome and cleanly,
prepared at due hours, and cook’d with care and diligence, let it
be rather to satisfie nature, than her affections, and apter to
kill hunger than revive new appetites; let it proceed more from the
provision of her own yard, than the furniture of the markets; and let
it be rather esteemed for the familiar acquaintance she hath with it,
than for the strangeness and rarity it bringeth from other countries.

To conclude, our English Housewife must be of chaste thoughts, stout
courage, patient, untired, watchful, diligent, witty, pleasant,
constant in friendship, full of good neighbourhood, wise in discourse,
but not frequent therein, sharp and quick of speech, but not bitter
or talkative, secret in her affairs, comfortable in her counsels, and
generally skilful in the worthy knowledges which do belong to her
vocation.”

But to set against this is the testimony of the Elizabethan satirist
Philip Stubbes.

The principal occupation of the women, he tells us—their daily life—is
to lie in bed till nine or ten in the morning; to spend two hours in
dressing themselves; then to go to dinner; then, “their heads pretely
mizzeled with wine,” they walk abroad for a time; or they sit at their
open doors showing their braveries to passers-by; or they pretend
business in the town and carry a basket, “under what pretence pretie
concerts are practised.” Or again they have those gardens in the fields
outside already alluded to, whither they repair with a boy and a basket
and meet their lovers.


                   A WOMAN’S DAY

    “Daily till ten a clocke a bed she lyes,
    And then againe her Lady-ship doth rise,
    Her Maid must make a fire, and attend
    To make her ready; then for wine sheele send,
    (A morning pinte), she sayes her stomach’s weake,
    And counterfeits as if shee could not speake,
    Vntill eleuen, or a little past,
    About which time, euer she breakes her fast;
    Then (very sullen) she wil pout and loure,
    And sit down by the fire some halfe an houre.
    At twelue a clocke her dinner time she keepes,
    Then gets into her chaire, and there she sleepes
    Perhaps til foure, or somewhat thereabout;
    And when that lazie humour is worne out,
    She cals her dog, and takes him in her lap,
    Or fals a beating of her maid (perhap)
    Or hath a gossip come to tell a tale,
    Or else at me sheele curse, and sweare, and rale,
    Or walk a turne or two about the Hall,
    And so to supper and to bed: heeres all
    This paines she takes; and yet I do abuse her:
    But no wise man, I thinke, so kind would vse her....”
                      STUBBES, _Anatomie of Abuses_, Part ii. p. 274.

In the streets a lady of condition was preceded by a lackey carrying a
stick or wand. Gentlemen were followed by their servants carrying the
master’s sword. The servants were dressed in blue with the master’s
badge in silver on the left arm. The men kept on their hats indoors
except in warm weather. The nobles, who were mostly poor, joined
with the merchant adventurers in their foreign enterprises; many of
the merchants were consulted by the Sovereign and held positions of
trust—for example, Gresham; yet the separation of City and Court was
already beginning, as is shown by the repeated sneers of the dramatists
at the vulgarity and ostentation of the City Madams. We get occasional
glimpses of the lower class women and girls; they were rough in their
manners and coarse in their conversation; we find them dancing in the
street to the music of the tabor and the pipe; we also see them playing
at ball up and down the street, like the ’prentices. They lived, like
the men, on strong meat and beer; they were therefore physically
strong, perhaps as strong as the young men their lovers. The richer
sort of citizens had country gardens, generally small enclosures,
either in or north of Moorfields, whither they resorted in the long
summer evenings; their wives, it is said, used the gardens in the
morning for assignations and the carrying on of intrigues.

In the morning the haunt of the gallants was St. Paul’s Cathedral.
(_See_ Appendix VIII.) They walked up and down the middle of the nave,
called then the “Mediterranean,” exhibiting their new cloaks and their
new feathers. After a few turns up and down, or when the clock struck
eleven, they left the place and disappeared, going to some of the
shops, the tobacconist’s, or the bookseller’s, where they took tobacco
and talked about the new books. They then repaired to an ordinary and
spent two or three hours over dinner, after which they went back to St.
Paul’s and spent there the whole afternoon.

The merchant had his Exchange; the citizen his tavern; the gallant had
the apothecary’s shop, where he bought and smoked his tobacco. For
daily discourse and business the scholar, the divine, the poet, the
wit, had the bookseller’s shop. “He will sit you,” said Ben Jonson, “a
whole afternoon in a bookseller’s shop, reading the Greek, Italian,
and Spanish.” He would read, and he would talk. Remember that in the
year 1590 or thereabouts the art of printing had only been in use a
hundred years; all the books were new books; every poet was printed
or translated for the first time; the booksellers’ shops contained
editions, always new, of ancient classics; of living poets; of foreign
writers; there was far greater interest in a new book than our age can
understand: as we have seen there were in London alone at least 240
poets, known and acknowledged, whose names are still remembered, and
whose poems still remain Anthologies, and there was interest among the
reading world in every one of them. There may have been jealousies:
poets have always been a jealous folk; but there was appreciation, and
there was generosity. And the bookseller’s shop was the place where all
who valued new books could meet and talk of books—what talk is more
delightful? What criticism more sincere than that between those who
themselves belong to letters in an age when literature knows not yet
the meaning of the words exhaustion or decay?

Mr. Ordish (_Shakespeare’s London_, p. 233) has compiled a list of
Elizabethan booksellers from the title-pages of the Shakespeare
quartos. Such a list was well worth making, though it cannot be
considered more than a small instalment. Indeed, the literary output
was so enormous during the latter half of the sixteenth century, that
the number of booksellers must have been proportionately greater than
at present.

The following were some of the signs:—

I. In St. Paul’s Churchyard—

  At the sign of the Angel, the Fox, the Flower de Luce and the
  Crown, the Greyhound, the Green Dragon, the Holy Ghost, the Gun
  (Edward White), the Pied Bull, the Spread Eagle.

II. By St. Dunstan’s in the West—

  At the sign of the White Hart; at the shop under the Dial.

III. In Paternoster Row—

  At the sign of the Sun.

IV. Cornhill—

  At the sign of the Cat and Parrots.

V. In Carter Lane, near the Paul Head.

Plays and masques were performed on Sunday as well as any other day;
the feeling, however, was growing rapidly in favour of a stricter
attention to the Sunday, which was confused with the Sabbath. In other
words, the Puritans were fast increasing in numbers and in importance.

If amusement was wanted it might also be sought in the street, where
the juggler with his music and his tumbler had his regular round. He
was distinguished by his thin, coloured cloak and his yellow breeches
trimmed with blue. For a modest fee he performed for any who summoned
him. Another form of amusement, suitable to those who could not afford
to pay the itinerant juggler, and had to consider the expenditure in
candles, was to sit round the fire in the evening and tell stories.

                “... some mery fit
    Of Mayde-Marian, or else of Robin Hood.”

As for the girls:—

    “Then is it pleasure the yonge maides amonge,
    To watch by the fier the winter-nights longe;
    And in the ashes some playes for to marke,
    And cover wardes for fault of other warke;
    To taste white shevers, to make prophet-roles;
    And, after talke, oft times to fille the boles.”

In the private houses there was a great deal of whipping; gentlemen
had their servants whipped in the porter’s lodge; to be whipped was
no disgrace, but a natural part of servitude, no more to be deplored
than the necessity of death; ladies whipped their maid-servants, their
sons and their daughters; when a child had been whipped the rod was
tied to her girdle, with what we should perhaps consider an excess of
admonition. Children knelt before their parents until bidden to rise.
On their knees, too, they asked for their father’s blessing. If we
may believe Caxton, who died in 1491, and therefore hardly belongs to
the Tudor period, there was a great falling off in the behaviour of
children in his own recollection. It is a mark of increasing years
to compare things of the present with things of the past to the
disparagement of the former.

  “I see that the children ben borne within the sayd cyte encrease
  and prouffyte not like their faders and olders; but for mooste
  parte, after that they ben comeyn to theyr perfight yeres of
  discretion and rypnes of age, kno well that theyre faders haue
  lefte to them grete quantite of goodes, yet scarcely among ten two
  thrive. O blessed Lord! when I remember this, I am al abashed;
  I cannot judge the cause; but fayrer ne wyser, ne bet bespeken
  children in theyre youth ben no wher than ther ben in London; but
  at ther ful ryping, there is no carnel, ne good word found en, but
  chaff for the most part.”

As for the boys of the household, they either went to one of the City
schools or they were instructed by a tutor at home. Probably the latter
was unusual when schools were ready to hand. In country places the
tutor was common, and his position was anything but pleasant.

“Such is the most base and ridiculous parsimony of many of our
Gentlemen (if I may so terme them) that if they can procure some poore
Batchelor of Art from the Universitie to teach their children to say
grace, will be content upon the promise of ten pounds a yeere at his
first comming, to be pleased with five; the rest to be set off in hope
of the next advouson (which perhaps was sold before the young man was
born). Or if it chance to fall in his time, his lady or master tels
him, ‘Indeed, Sir, we are beholden unto you for your paines; such a
living is lately falne, but I had before made a promise of it to my
butler or bailiffe, for his true and extraordinary service.’

Is it not commonly seen, that the most Gentlemen will give better
wages, and deale more bountifully with a fellow who can but a dogge,
or reclaime a hawke, than upon an honest, learned, and well qualified
man to bring up their children? It may be, hence it is, that dogges
are able to make syllogismes in the fields, when their young masters
can conclude nothing at home, if occasion of argument or discourse be
offered at the table.”

Did the great City merchant ever maintain the domestic chaplain? I have
found no instance of such a servant in the household of a citizen.
Bishop Hall assigns the domestic chaplains to the country gentleman:—

    “A gentle squire would gladly entertain
    Into his house some trencher-chappelain;
    Some willing man that might instruct his sons,
    And that would stand to good conditions.
    First, that he lie upon the truckle-bed,
    While his young maister lieth o’er his head;
    Second, that he do, on no default,
    Ever presume to sit above the salt;
    Third, that he never change his trencher twice;
    Fourth, that he use all common courtesies;
    Sit bare at meals, and one half rise and wait;
    Last, that he never his young master beat;
    But he must aske his mother to define,
    How manie jerks she would his breech should line.
    All these observ’d he could contented be,
    To give five markes, and winter livery.”
                                              JOSEPH HALL, _Satires_.

As regards the ’prentices, they were considered as servants not only
in the shop and warehouse, but also at home, where they waited at
dinner, and followed the ladies to church and when they went abroad in
the evening, carrying a lantern and a stout cudgel. For the servants,
properly so called, the following regulations will show the manner of
their service (Drake, ii.):—

  “Imprimis, That no servant bee absent from praier, at morning or
  evening, without a lawfull excuse, to be alledged within one day
  after, upon payne to forfeit for every tyme 2d.

  2. Item, that none sweare any othe, uppon paine for every othe 1d.

  3. Item, That no man leave any doore open, that he findeth shut,
  without there bee cause, upon payne for every time 1d.

  4. Item, That none of the men be in bed, from our Lady-day to
  Michaelmas, after 6 of the clock, in the morning; nor out of his
  bed after 10 of the clock at night; nor, from Michaelmas till our
  Lady-day, in bed after 7 in the morning; nor out after 9 at night,
  without reasonable cause, on paine of 2d.

  5. Item, That no man’s bed be unmade, nor fire or candle-box
  uncleane, after 8 of the clock in the morning, on paine of 1d.

       •       •       •       •       •

  7. Item, That no man teach any of the children any unhonest
  speeche, or bandie word, or other, on paine of 4d.

  8. Item, That no man waite at the table, without a trencher in his
  hand, except it be uppon some good cause, on paine of 1d.

  9. Item, If any man breake a glasse, hee shal answer the price
  thereof out of his wages and, if it bee not known who breake it,
  the buttler shall pay for it on paine of 12d.

  10. Item, The table must be covered halfe an hour before 11 at
  dinner, and 6 at supper, or before, on paine of 2d.

  11. Item, That meate bee readie at 11, or before, at supper, on
  paine of 6d.

  12. That none be absent, without leave or good cause, the whole
  day, or any part of it, on paine of 4d.

  13. Item, that no man strike his fellow, on paine of losse of
  service; nor revile or threaten, or provoke another to strike, on
  paine of 12d.

  14. Item, That no man come to the kitchen without reasonable cause,
  on paine of 1d. and the cook likewyse to forfeit 1d.

  15. Item, That none toy with the maids on paine of 4d.

  16. Item, That no man weare foule shirt on Sunday, nor broken hose
  or shooes, or dublett without buttons, on paine of 1d.

  17. Item, That when any strainger goeth hence, the chamber be drest
  up againe within 4 hours after, on paine of 1d.

  18. Item, That the hall bee made cleane every day, by eight in the
  winter, and seaven in the sommer, on paine of him that should do it
  to forfet 1d.

  19. That the court-gate bee shutt each meale, and not opened during
  dinner and supper, without just cause, on paine the porter to
  forfet for every time 1d.

  20. Item, That all stayrs in the house, and other rooms that neede
  shall require, bee made cleane on Fryday after dinner, on paine of
  forfeyture of every one on whome it shall belong unto 3d.

  All which sommes shalbe duly paide each quarter-day out of their
  wages, and bestowed on the poore or other godly use.”

The London merchant’s house in the sixteenth century steadily improved
in solid comfort and even in magnificence. No one will ever be able to
restore completely, or even approximately, the London of that century.
We do not know the numbers of the great houses; we know only in part
their constitutions, their pictures; their art; their carved work. In
the streets lying off the main avenues of retail trade, especially
in those streets near the riverside, a house was frequently at once
a place of residence and a warehouse. One may look upon a street in
Hildesheim, for instance, and be reminded of Bishopsgate Street,
Aldgate, or Leadenhall Street in the time of Queen Elizabeth. That is
to say, the greater number of houses were timbered with tiled roofs;
the fronts all covered with carvings painted and gilded; there were
scattered here and there substantial stone houses; there were still
many houses whose gateway opened from some narrow city lane upon a
spacious court, above which stood the hall; the lady’s bower; the rooms
for apprentices and servants; and, behind all, the garden. Such a house
on a large scale was Gray’s Inn; on a lesser scale Barnard’s Inn and
the smaller inns. The College of Heralds still shows the general size
of the court; Doctor’s Commons until fifty years ago also illustrated
the old fashion of building. Bricks were coming into use, but, in the
City of London, slowly. There were still many narrow and noisome courts
where the hovels were of wood—making a constant danger of fire and
filled with all manner of decaying abominations—a constant cause of
disease.

By this time all the windows were provided with glass; many of the
poorer sort, however, were furnished with the cheap glass which
contained the round lumps called bull’s eyes. The shops in the
market-places had glass in the upper part, but the lower part still
remained open, and was shut at night with a shutter. The goods were
exposed outside the window, and the ’prentices stood beside them
bawling, “What d’ye lack? What d’ye lack?”

In the more important houses the old custom of living in the great hall
was still kept up. In all houses the servants and apprentices sat down
with the master and his family.

The floors were still strewn with rushes, but these, on account of
the cost of renewing, were seldom changed, so that underneath them,
as Erasmus discovered, lay unmolested an “ancient collection of beer,
grease, fragments of fish, and everything that is nasty.”

The furniture of the rooms was very different from that of our own
times. The following account is taken from _Archæologia_ (vol. xxx. p.
2):—

“The Furniture of the different rooms is very similar, varying
principally in number and quality of the articles; consisting of
sets of hangings, tables with tressels, joined forms, joined stools,
court-cupboards, carpets, cushions, and a few chairs; also andirons,
and other fire utensils, and several pairs of virginals in different
rooms, besides a pair of organs in the chapel, and ‘an instrument
musicall’ in the chamber of presence. The carpets, which are numerous,
would scarcely appear to have been used according to modern custom
for the floors of the apartments, Hentzner having informed us, that
the presence-chamber of Queen Elizabeth herself was strewed with hay
(_i.e._ rushes) but they were principally coverings for the tables,
stools, and court-cupboards; though they may have been occasionally
used to cover some select part of a room, as in the presence-chamber,
for instance, where a Turkey carpet is mentioned, five yards and a half
long, and two yards and three-quarters broad.

[Illustration: STAPLE INN, HOLBORN]

The court-cupboards, which are generally considered to have been
moveable closets, answering the purpose of a sideboard, were frequently
much ornamented, and such an article may still be seen in old mansions,
and in collections of old furniture. They were covered with carpets or
cupboard cloths, and set out with cups, salvers, and plate. Some of
these carpets were very handsome. In one of the inventories in that
valuable authority for researches of this nature, the _History of
Hengrave_, is mentioned, ‘One carpet of black velvet, for the little
bord, laced and fringed with silver and gould, lyned with taffita.’
Some of these carpets also had cloths to lay over them, probably, when
not in use, in order to protect them. In the same Inventory cushions
are mentioned which in richness exceed those of the Archbishop, as
‘two long cushions of plain black velvet, embroidered with roses, with
gould and pearle all over, with tassels of gold and silk’; but the
nature of his archi-episcopal office probably induced him to avoid too
much splendour in his household. There is, however, in the chamber of
presence a cushion of cloth of baudkin,[9] and in other apartments,
several cushions of velvet and damask. The chair of cloth of gold and
silver in the gallery was probably a State chair; and, indeed, from
the paucity of these articles, they would seem to be intended only for
persons of higher rank. From the ‘latten andirons’ in the chamber of
presence being valued at forty shillings, it may be inferred that they
were ornamented, and in some cases we know they were richly carved.
Iachimo, describing the chamber of Imogen, says:—

                        ‘Her andirons—
    I had forgot them—were two winking Cupids
    Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely
    Depending on their brands.’

The pictures are chiefly portraits of royal personages, the principal
noblemen and officers of state, and the promoters of the Reformation,
but the list is interesting to shew the Archbishop’s selection. In some
of the bed-rooms are truckle-beds (trundle-beds as they are called in
some of the inventories of this age); these would seem to have been
small beds generally appropriated to attendants, and placed at the foot
or side of the standing or principal bed, and occasionally made to run
under it during the day. The Host in the _Merry Wives of Windsor_,
in answer to an inquiry after Sir John Falstaff, says, ‘There’s his
chamber, his house, his castle, his standing-bed and truckle-bed.’
Hudibras also makes the distinction:—

    ‘If he that in the field is slain,
    Be in the bed of honour lain.
    He that is beaten may be said,
    To lie in honour’s truckle-bed.’

In my Lord’s chamber the bed is a field-bed, but this sort of bed may
have been so called from being a folding-bed, as field-stool from
fauld-stool, and not as being a camp-bed or _lit de champ_. The ‘grene
satten of bridgs’ in the vestrye was satin of Bruges; and ’dornix,’ of
which there are some articles mentioned, is used for ‘Tournay,’ and
applied to the manufacture of that place. The ‘Grene saie,’ in the
‘Grene Galery,’ and elsewhere, was probably not silk, but a species
of fine cloth (sagum), one of the earliest productions of our woollen
manufacture, the material of stockings, which were objected to by
William Rufus, as being, from the price, too common for a king.”

We may supplement this account by Harrison’s description (Holinshed, i.
317):—

“The furniture of our houses also exceedeth, and is growne in maner
even to passing delicacie; for herein I doo not speake of the nobilitie
and gentry onlie, but likewise of the lowest sort in most places of
our south countrie, that have aniething at all to take to. Certes
in noblemen’s houses it is not rare to see abundance of Arras, rich
hangings of tapistrie, silver vessell, and so much other plate, as may
furnish sundry cupbords, to the summe often times of a thousand or
two thousand pounds at the least: whereby the value of this and the
rest of their stuffe dooth grow to be almost inestimable. Likewise
in the houses of knights, gentlemen, merchantmen, and some other
wealthie citizens, it is not geson to behold generallie their great
provision of tapistrie, Turkie worke, pewter, brasse, fine linen, and
thereto costlie cupbords of plate, worth five or six hundred or a
thousand pounds, to be deemed by estimation. But as herein all these
sorts doo far exceed their elders and predecessors, and in neatnesse
and curiositie the merchant all other; so in time past, the costlie
furniture staied there, whereas now it is descended yet lower even
unto the inferior artificers and manie farmers, who by vertue of their
old and not of their new leases have for the most part learned also to
garnish their cupbords with plate, their joined beds with tapestrie and
silke hangings, and their tables with carpets and fine naperie, whereby
the wealth of our countrie (God be praised therefore and give us grace
to imploie it well) dooth infinetlie appeare. Neither doo I speak
this in reprooch of anie man, God is my judge, but to showe that I do
rejoise rather to see how God has blessed us with His good gifts; and
whilest I behold how that in a time wherein all things are growen to
most excessive prices, and what commoditie soever is to be had is daily
plucked from the communaltie by such as looke into every trade, we do
yet find the meanes to obtein and achive such furniture as heretofore
hath beene unpossible. There are old men yet dwelling in the village
where I remaine, which hath noted three things to be marvellously
altered in England within their sound remembrance; and other three
things too much increased. One is, the multitude of chimnies lately
erected, whereas in their yoong daies there were not above two or
three, of so many in most uplandish towns of the realme (the religious
houses and manour places of their lordes alwaies excepted, and
peradventure some great personages), but each one made his fire against
a reredosse in the hall where he dined and dressed his meat.

The second is the great (although not generall) amendment of lodging,
for (said they) our fathers (yea and we ourselves also) have lien full
oft upon straw pallets, on rough mats covered onlie with a sheet under
coverlets made of dagswain or hopharlots (I use their owne terms) and
a good round log under their heads insteed of a bolster or pillow. If
it were so that our fathers or the good man of the house, had within
seven yeares after his marriage purchased a matteres or flockebed, and
thereto a sacke of chaffe to reste his head upon, he thought himselfe
to be well lodged as the lord of the towne, that peradventure laie
seldom in a bed of downe or whole fethers: so well were they contented,
and with such base kind of furniture: which also is not verie much
amended as yet in some parts of Bedfordshire, and elsewhere further off
from our southerne parts. Pillowes (said they) were thought meet onelie
for women in childbed. As for servants, if they had anie sheet above
them it was well, for seldom had they anie under their bodies, to keep
them from the pricking straws that ran oft through the canvas of the
pallet and rased their hardened hides.

The third thing they tell of, is the exchange of vessell, as of
treene[10] platters into pewter, and wooden spoones into silver or
tin. For so common were all sorts of treene stuffe in old time, that
a man should hardlie find foure peeces of pewter (of which one was
peradventure a salt) in a good farmer’s house and yet for all this
frugalitie (if it may so be justly called) they were scarse able to
live and paie their rents at their daies without selling of a cow,
or an horsse, or more, although they paid but foure pounds at the
uttermost by the year. Such also was their povertie that if some one od
farmer or husbandman had beene at the alehouse a thing greatlie used
in those daies, amongst six or seven of his neighbours, and there in
a braverie to show what store he had, did cast downe his pursse, and
therein a noble or six shillings in silver unto them (for few such men
then cared for gold bicause it was not so readie paiment and they
were oft inforced to give a penie for the exchange of an angell),
it was verie likelie that all the rest could not laie downe so much
against it; whereas in my time, although peradventure foure pounds of
old rent be improved to fortie, fiftie, or an hundred pounds, yet will
the farmer as another palme or date tree thinke his gaines verie small
toward the end of his terme, if he have not six or seven yeares rent
lieng by him, therewith to purchase a new lease, beside a faire garnish
of pewter on his cupbord, with so much more in od vessel going about
the house, three or foure featherbeds, so many counterlids and carpets
of tapistrie, a silver salt, a bowle for wine (if not an whole neast)
and a dozzen of spoones to furnish up the sute.”

Or, again, to take another contemporary authority (Hall, _Society in
the Elizabethan Age_):—

“The furniture of an Elizabethan House is illustrated by an inventory
of the Household ‘stuffe, goodes and cattelles’ belonging to Sir Henry
Parker knight (1557–60). This inventory shows two chairs only for
the whole house; eight stools and forms; two square framed tables;
one joined table to say mass on; a pair of ‘playing tables’; twelve
bedsteads; tapestry and hangings; featherbeds; blankets; bolsters;
testors; curtains; counterpoints (counterpanes); seven cupboards;
three carpets; andirons, fire shovels, tongs; thirteen candlesticks;
certain cushions of tapestry, velvet, white satin and ‘Brydges’ satin;
three great chests; utensils for the kitchen; the Brewhouse and the
Bargehouse. The Hall was hung round with tapestry; its permanent
furniture consisted of two square tables and one great chair of black
velvet in which the Justice of the Peace heard cases. When the tables
were spread for dinner or supper, forms were brought in. The ‘Great
Chamber,’ formerly called the Lady’s Bower, contained the forms used at
meals in the Hall, one stool of black velvet for my Lady; and nothing
else! In the bedrooms there were the beds and their blankets and
nothing else; not a chair or a table; nothing but the bed—what does one
want in a bedroom but the bed to sleep upon? For decorations one room
had over the chimney a ‘steyned cloth with Marie and Gabriell.’ Another
had curtains of sarcenet; another, of red and green say; another, ‘old
tapestrye worke of imagery.’ In one chamber we find a bason and ewer
of pewter—was this the only means of washing in the whole house? In
the buttery were a dozen of fine trenchers ‘cased’; six glasses; six
plates for fruits; a ‘garnish’ of pewter vessels; two pewter plates for
tarts. Nothing is said of knives—did each person still carry his own?
Even then there must have been carving knives. Forks were not as yet in
common use, and nothing is said about spoons.”

The inventory of a farmer’s goods about the same time, given in the
same work, shows among the household gear, two pewter dishes, three
pewter platters, two saucers, four trencher platters, six trencher
dishes, two brass kettles, two candlesticks and a chafing dish, eight
bowls of wood, twelve trenchers, and twelve trencher spoons; but still
nothing about knives. Nor in any of the numerous inventories and
accounts given in this book is any mention made of knives. We see,
however, in the tables laid upon trestles, the single chair, the forms
and stools, the fine tapestry of the Hall, the carpets of the Great
Chamber, the testers and the curtains of the bed which stands alone
in the bedroom, a compound of state and simplicity; of meanness and
richness. Furniture in the modern sense had not yet appeared in the
house.

To quote from Shakespeare, Gremio, in the _Taming of the Shrew_, thus
speaks of his furniture:—

                “My house within the city
    Is richly furnished with plate and gold;
    Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands;
    My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry;
    In ivory coffers I have stuff’d my crowns;
    In cypress chests my arras counterpoints,
    Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,
    Fine linen, Turkish cushions boss’d with pearl,
    Valance of Venice gold in needlework,
    Pewter and brass and all things that belong
    To house or housekeeping.”

Or take the following note of a lady’s room:—

“Her bed-chamber was garnished with such diversities of sweete herbes,
such varietie of fragrant flowers, such chaunge of odoriferous smelles,
so perfumed with sweete odours, so stored with sweete waters, so
beautified with tapestry, and decked so artificially, that I want
memorie to rehearse it, and cunning to expresse it, so that it seemed
her Chamber was rather some terresstriall Paradise, than a mansion for
such a matelesse mystresse; rather a tabernacle for some Goddesse, than
a lodging for such a loathsome carcase.”

The Tudor age was strong in small points of ceremony and etiquette,
which descended even to details of housework. For instance, the
ceremony to be observed in making the King’s Bed, a thing which we
might suppose left to a housemaid, was carefully laid down:—

“Furste a groome or a page to take a torche and to goo to the warderobe
of the kynges bedd, and brynge theym of the warderobe with the kynges
stuff unto the chambr for makyng of the same bedde. Where as sught to
be a gentylman-usher iiij yeomen of the chambr for to make the same
bedde. The groome to stande at the bedds feete with his torche. They
of the warderobe opennyng the kinges stuff of hys bedde upon a fayre
sheets betwen the sayde groome and the bedds fote, iij yeomen or two
at the lefte in every syde of the bedde. The gentylman usher and parte
commaundyng theym what they shall doo. A yoman with a dagger to searche
the strawe of the kynges bedde that there be none untreuth therin. And
this yoman to caste up the bedde of downe upon that, and oon of theym
to tomble over yt for the serche thereof. Then they to bete and tufte
the sayde bedde, and to laye oon then the bolster without touchyng
of the bedd where as it aught to lye. Then they of the warderobe to
delyver theym a fusty and takyng the saye thereof. All theys yomen to
laye theyr hands theroon at oone, that they touch not the bedd, tyll
yt be layed as it sholde be by the commaundement of the usher. And so
the furste sheet in lyke wyse, and then to trusse in both sheete and
fustyan rownde about the bedde of downe. The warderoper to delyver
the second sheete unto two yomen, they to crosse it over theyr arme,
and to stryke the bedde as the ussher shall more playnly sheweun to
theym. Then every yoman layeing hande upon the sheete to laye the same
sheete upon the bedde. And so the other fustyan upon or ij with
suche coverynge as shall content the kynge. Thus doon the ij yomen next
to the bedde to laye down agene the overmore fustyan, the yoman of the
warderobe delverynge theym a pane sheete, the sayde yoman therewythall
to cover the sayde bedde: and so then to laye down the overmost sheets
from the beddes heed. And then the say ij yomen to lay all the overmost
clothes of a quarter of the bedde. Then the warderoper to delyver unto
theym such pyllowes as shall please the kynge. The sayd yoman to laye
theym upon the bolster and the heed sheet with whych the sayde yoman
shall cover the sayd pyllowes. And so to trusse the endes of the said
sheete under every end of the bolster. And then the sayd warderoper to
delyver unto them ij lytle small pyllowes werwythall the squyres for
the bodye or gentylman usher shall give te saye to the warderoper, and
to the yoman whyche have layde on hande upon the sayd bedde. And then
the sayd ij yomen to lay upon the sayde bedde toward the bolster as yt
was bifore. They makyng a crosse and kissynge yt where there handes
were. Then ij yomen next to the feete to make the seers as the usher
shall teche theym. And so then every one of them sticke up the aungel
about the bedde, and to lette downe the corteyns of the sayd bedde or
sparver.

[Illustration: THE MORE FAMILY

From a picture in the possession of Major-General F. E. Sotheby.]

Item, a squyer for the bodye or gentylman-usher aught to sett the
kynges sword at hys beddes heede.

Item, a squyer for the bodye aught to charge a secret groome or page
to have the kepynge of the sayde bedde with a lyght, unto the tyme the
kynge be disposed to goo to yt.

Item, a groome or page aught to take a torche whyle the bedde ys yn
makyng to feche a loof of brede, a pott with ale, a pott wyth wine for
them that maketh the bedde, and every man.

Item, the gentylman-ussher aught to forbede that no manner of man do
sett eny dysshe uppon the kinge’s bedde for fere of hurtyng of the
kyng’s ryche counterpoynt that lyeth therupon. And that the sayd ussher
take goode heede, that noon man wipe or rubbe their handes uppon none
arras of the kynges, wherby they myght be hurted, in the chambr where
the kyng ys specially, and in all other.”

The wealth of the English was not so much illustrated, as it was
proved, by their immense stores of silver and silver-gilt plate. The
people bought all the plate that they could afford; they put their
savings, so to speak, in silver plate, as we put them in stocks and
shares. Polydore Vergil says that there were few whose tables were not
loaded with spoons, cups, and salt-cellars of silver. At the marriage
feast of Prince Arthur there was in the great hall a cupboard five
stages in height, set with plate valued at £1200, say £15,000 of our
money; while in the chamber where the Princess dined there was a
cupboard of gold plate valued at £20,000 or £240,000 in our money.
Cardinal Wolsey must have spent enormous sums upon plate. There
were two banqueting rooms, in each of which was a cupboard extended
along the whole length of the apartment, piled to the top with plate,
and every guest chamber was provided with silver ewers, basins, and
candlesticks. Of silver spoons or dishes there were none; the dishes
were of pewter and the plates of wood, even in the greatest houses.

Lastly, on the subject of furniture, let me quote from another paper in
_Archæologia_, vol. xxxvi. p. 284:—

“The furniture of the hall is excessively scanty and plain, consisting
of but a single table and two forms, of the total value of 4s. 6d. In
the parlour, however, is a much greater abundance of furniture, as,
in addition to the main table, there is the side table and another
small table, a chair and six stools with embroidered cushions, besides
footstools; while for the decoration of the room we find a portrait
of Henry VIII. and hangings of green saye, and, for the amusement of
the family and guests, a pair of virginals, a base lute, and a guitar,
with chess and backgammon boards for those not musically inclined. The
children’s chamber, or nursery as we should call it, is comfortably
provided with bedding and nursery requisites, and contains a cupboard,
two coffers, and a great wicker hamper, as receptacles for the clothes,
etc. The allowance of blankets appears but small, being only one pair
to a bed, either in the nursery or in the bedroom of the master of
the house. The latter room is provided with a walnut-tree bedstead,
adorned with green fringe, and having a coverlet of tapestry, a walnut
table, chairs and stools, curtains for the windows of green saye,
a warming-pan, and, as a ready means of defence against thieves or
intruders, a pole-axe. In an inner closet, leading out of this room,
are four stills, for the use of the lady of the house.

Sir William More’s own closet is so well appointed that it might
almost serve as a model for the morning-room of a country squire of
the present day. On the walls hang maps of the World, of France, of
England, and of Scotland, and a picture of Judith, a little chronicle,
and a perpetual almanac in frames. Among the accessories are a globe, a
slate to write on, and a counterboard and cast of counters, with which
to make calculations and cast accounts, in the manner then in vogue. On
the desk are a pair of scales and a set of weights, a pair of scissors,
a penknife, a whetstone, a pair of compasses, a foot-rule, a hammer, a
seal of many seals, and an inkstand of pewter, with a pounce-box, and
pens both of bone and steel. Around the room is a collection of about
120 volumes of books; among them are some of the best chronicles of the
time, as Fabyan, Langton, Harding, Carion, etc.; translations from the
classics, as well as some in their original language; for magisterial
business there are the statutes of Henry VIII., Edward VI., and Mary,
and all the statutes before, as well as the _New Book of Justices_,
and other legal works; for medical use we find a _Book of Physic_, the
_Glass of Health_, and a book against the Sweat, as well as a _Book
of Medicines for Horses_; while for lighter reading there are such
books as Chaucer, Lydgate, Skelton, and others, not only in English but
also in French and Italian; and for religious study, besides a Bible
and Testaments in various languages, the _Scala Perfectionis_, _Flores
Bibliae_, etc. The whole catalogue is worthy of attentive perusal by
the bibliographical antiquary, and affords the titles of some English
works which are not, I believe, at present known.

In the closet of the lady of the house are a few more books,
principally of prayers, a large collection of trunks and boxes, a
number of glass vessels of various forms and uses, and a few of enamel
or china, with trenchers, knives, shears, graters, snuffers, moulds,
brushes, and other miscellaneous properties of a good housewife.”

Water was carried about the City from the conduits by water-carriers
called “Cobbs,” who carried it in large tankards, each holding about
three gallons.

The palmy time of tobacco extended over the fifty years after its
introduction. During this time the use of tobacco penetrated all ranks
and classes of society. The grave divine, the soldier, the lawyer, the
gallant about town, the merchant, the craftsman, the ’prentice, all
used pipes. At the theatre the young fellow called for his pipe and for
tobacco and began to smoke: presently he rose and walking over to the
boxes presented his pipe to any lady of his acquaintance.

People went to bed with tobacco box and pipe and candle on a table by
the bedside in case they might wake up in the night and feel inclined
for tobacco. After supper in a middle-class family, all the men and
women smoked together. Nay, it is even stated that the very children
in school took a pipe of tobacco instead of breakfast, the master
smoking with them and instructing them how to bring the smoke through
the nostrils in the fashion of the day. Tobacco was bought and sold in
pennyworths.

Every man carried a “tobacco box, steel, and touch.” Early in the
seventeenth century there are said to have been 7000 tobacconists’
shops in London. This seems incredible; perhaps there were 7000 shops
in which tobacco was sold. For instance, all apothecaries sold tobacco.
Many of the tobacco shops were of handsome appearance. A tobacco shop
had a maple block for cutting the leaf; tongs for holding the coals,
and a fire of juniper at which the pipes were lighted. Tobacco was
so cheap that a man might fill his pocket with it for twopence. Yet
over £300,000 a year was spent in London on tobacco, while there were
some—but this is impossible—who were reported to spend, habitually,
£400 a year upon tobacco alone; that is, 48,000 pocketsful every year,
or 130 pocketsful every day; which is absurd.

Expletives and oaths are changed with every generation. The
Elizabethans had, no doubt, a great many, of which the following
represent but a few. The old Catholic oaths “By’r Lady,” “By the
Mass,” and so forth, vanished with the Reformation. We now find a lot
of meaningless ejaculations, such as “God’s Wounds,” “God’s Fools,”
“God’s Dines,” “Cocke’s Bones,” “Deuce take me,” “Bones a God,”
and “Bones a me.” The now familiar “Damn” makes its appearance in
literature; but indeed it had flourished in the mouths of the people
for many generations. There is nothing really remarkable about the
swearing of the Elizabethan period.

Every merchant formerly carried a signet-ring, on which was engraved,
not his coat-of-arms, but his mark or signet. Thus, a curious
signet-ring was found lying in the bed of the river while digging
the foundations of London Bridge. At first it was believed to be Sir
Thomas Gresham’s, but that seems now to be impossible. It is engraved
in _The London and Middlesex Notebook_ (p. 195). The device contains
the initials of the owner, with an arrangement of lines probably not
intended to have any meaning except that they should be recognised as
forming part of Sir Thomas Gresham’s signet. Armed with this ring as an
introduction, a messenger could buy and sell for the merchant—it being
presumed that the ring never left its owner save to be used as a letter
of recommendation and introduction. Sometimes the signet-ring was worn
on the thumb. Other merchants’ devices are figured in the “Notebook.”

Foreigners have revealed to us some very curious and rather startling
peculiarities of the custom of kissing as practised by our ancestors.
Thus as early as 1466 a Bohemian nobleman named Leo von Rozmital
visited England, and in the Journal of his Travel (1577) it is noted
that “it is the custom there, that on the arrival of a distinguished
stranger from foreign parts, maids and matrons go to the inn and
welcome him with gifts. Another custom is observed there, which is
that, when guests arrive at an inn, the hostess with all her family go
out to meet and receive them; and the guests are required to kiss them
all, and this among the English was the same as shaking hands among
other nations.” Erasmus, in 1499, wrote a Latin letter from England
to his friend Fausto Anfrelini, an Italian poet, exhorting him in a
strain of playful levity to think no more of his gout, but to betake
himself to England; for (he remarks) “here are girls with angels’
faces, so kind and obliging, that you would far prefer them to all
your Muses. Besides, there is a custom here never to be sufficiently
recommended. Wherever you come you are received with a kiss by all;
when you take your leave you are dismissed with kisses; you return,
kisses are repeated. They come to visit you, kisses again; they leave
you, you kiss them all round. Should they meet you anywhere, kisses in
abundance; in fine, wherever you move, there is nothing but kisses.” In
1527 Cardinal Wolsey was appointed Ambassador Extraordinary to France.
He was accompanied by George Cavendish, his gentleman usher, who wrote
a Life of the Cardinal. Cavendish had gone forward to prepare his
lord’s lodging. He says: “And I being there (at the Sire de Créqui’s
Castle at Moreuil, about twelve miles from Amiens) tarrying a while, my
lady Créqui issued out of her chamber into her dining chamber, where I
attended her coming, who received me very gently like her noble estate,
having a traine of twelve gentlewomen. And when she and her traine was
come all out, she saide unto me, ‘For as much,’ quoth she, ‘as ye be an
Englishman whose custome is to kisse all ladies and gentlemen in your
country without offense, although it is not soe here with us in this
realme, yet I will be so bould as kisse you, and soe ye shall doe all
my maids.’ By meanes whereof I kissed her and all her maides.” In the
narrative of the visit of the Spanish nobleman, the Duke de Najera,
in 1543–44, we are told that “after the dancing was finished (which
lasted several hours) the Queen entred again into her chamber, having
previously called one of the noblemen who spoke Spanish, to offer in
her name, some presents to the Duke, who again kissed her hand; and on
his requesting the same favour of the Princess Mary, she would by no
means permit it, but offered him her lips, and the Duke saluted her,
and did the same to all the other ladies.” A Greek traveller, Nicander
Nucius, came to England in 1545, and remarks: “They display great
simplicity and absence of jealousy in their usages towards females. For
not only do those who are of the same family and household kiss them on
the mouth with salutations and embraces, but even those too who have
never seen them. And to themselves this appears by no means indecent.”
Again, when the Constable of Castile appeared at the Court of Whitehall
on Saturday afternoon, 18th August 1604, after kissing Her Majesty’s
hands he requested permission to salute the ladies of honour (twenty in
number, standing in a row, and beautiful exceedingly) according to the
custom of the country, and any neglect of which is taken as an affront.
Whereupon the Queen having given him leave, His Excellency complied
with the custom, much to the satisfaction of the ladies.

In Shakespeare’s _Henry VIII._, at the Cardinal’s banquet, the King
says to Anne Bullen:—

                        “Sweetheart,
    I were unmannerly, to take you out,
    And not to kiss you.”

In dancing it appears to have been the customary fee of a lady’s
partner. A further illustration of the custom may be seen. Foreigners
of the male sex, and especially Frenchmen, are in the more frequent
habit of kissing each other, and probably not the ladies. Misson, a
Frenchman who travelled in England about 1697, says: “The people of
England, when they meet, never salute one another, otherwise than by
giving one another their hands, and shaking them heartily; they no more
dream of pulling off their hats, than the women do of pulling off their
headcloths.”

The sin of great cities we may pass over; that of early marriage is
still, as it was in Stubbes’ time, a very terrible evil; the sin of
drunkenness is with us still, and is present in every country. The
side of charity that consists in giving doles to the poor was then
neglected, and is now destroyed. We still suffer from money-lenders,
though they can no longer conduct us to a life-long prison.

  “Beleeve mee,” says Stubbes, “it greeveth mee to heare (walking in
  the streats) the pitiful cryes, and miserable complaints of poore
  prisoners in durance for debt, and like so to continue all their
  life, destitute of libertie, meat, drink (though of the meanest
  sorte), and clothing to their backs, lying in filthie strawe, and
  lothsome dung, wursse than anie dogge, voide of all charitable
  consolation and brotherly comfort in this World, wishing and
  thyrsting after death to set them at libertie, and loose them from
  their shackles, giues, and yron bands.” (Stubbes.)

As for the boys of this century, I have always thought their favourite
haunt was the river, or the river-side. On the river they rowed about
among the fishermen, and the swans above Bridge; the Queen’s Barge
swept past them with its trumpets and its hangings gorgeous to behold;
the Lord Mayor and the Companies were borne along before them in state
and splendour such as we have forgotten—surely nothing could have been
more splendid than these barges with their long lines of flashing oars
and their bows gilt and carved, and the carved work of the covered
seat of state, and the servants in their green and gold. Below Bridge,
in the Port, they rowed in and out among the ships as boys will about
Portsmouth Harbour now; the name of each ship with her port was written
on her lofty stern. The figure-head of each was bright as paint and
gold would make it. If they were allowed to go on board there were
sailors full of yarns, with strange things to show as well as to tell.
If they went as far down as Deptford, there was Drake’s ship, the ship
which had gone all round the world—all round the world! If they stayed
ashore, there were taverns in Wapping and St. Katherine’s, where they
could snatch the fearful joy of seeing the sailors drink and fight, the
foreign sailors and the English sailors, and the sailors from the North
Country, and those of London and the Cinque Ports. The river and the
river-side were famous schools to fill the minds of London boys with an
ardour for adventure; a yearning for the way of war; a burning desire
to cross the seas and visit far countries; and a thirst for geography;
and all the London boys of every class regularly attended the classes
of this Academy.

The theatre, of course, offers a fine field for the Elizabethan
satirist, Stubbes. He cannot find words strong enough to condemn the
playgoer. Then there is that other source and fount of laughter, the
Lord of Misrule.

  “First, all the wilde-heds of the Parish, conuenting togither,
  chuse them a Graund Captain (of all mischeefe) whome they innoble
  with the title of ‘my Lord of Mis-rule,’ and him they crowne with
  great solemnitie, and adopt for their King. This king anointed
  chuseth forth twentie, fortie, threescore or a hundred lustie
  Guttes, like to himself, to waighte vppon his lordly Maiestie, and
  to guarde his noble person. Then, euerie one of these his men,
  he inuesteth with his liuerues of green, yellow, or some other
  light wanton colour; And as though that were not baudie (gaudie)
  enough, I should say, they bedecke them selues with scarfs,
  ribons, and laces hanged all over with golde rings, precious
  stones, and other jewels: this doon, they tye about either leg
  xx. or xl. bels, with rich handkerchiefs in their hands, and
  sometimes laid a crosse ouer their shoulders and necks, borrowed
  for the most parte of their pretie Mopsies and loouing Besses,
  for bussing them in the dark. Thus al things set in order, then
  haue they their Hobby-horses, dragons and other antiques, togither
  with their baudie Pipers and thundering Drummers to strike vp
  the deuils daunce withall. Then marche these heathen company
  towards the church and Churchyard, their pipers pipeing, their
  drummers thundring, their stumps dauncing, their bels iyngling,
  their handkerchiefs swinging about their heds like madmen, their
  hobbie horses and other monsters skirmishing amongst the route:
  and in this sorte they go to the Church (I say) and into the
  Church (though the Minister be at prair or preaching), dancing and
  swinging their handkerchiefs ouer their heds in the Church, like
  deuils incarnate, with such a confuse noise, that no man can hear
  his own voice. Then, the foolish people they looke, they stare,
  they laugh, they fleer, and mount vpon fourmes and pewes to see
  these goodly pageants solemnized in this sort. Then, after this,
  about the Church they goe againe and againe, and so foorth into the
  churchyard, where they haue commonly their Sommer-haules, their
  bowers, arbors, and banqueting houses set vp, wherin they feast,
  banquet and daunce al that day and (peradventure) all the night
  too. And thus these terrestriall furies spend the Sabaoth day.”
  (Stubbes, _Anatomie of Abuses_, edit, by Furnivall.)

[Illustration: A SHIP OF THE TIME OF HENRY VIII.]

The custom of church ales is described by Stubbes with his customary
vigour:—

  “In certaine Townes where drunken _Bachus_ beares all the sway,
  against a Christmas, an Easter, Whitsonday, or some other time,
  the Church-wardens (for so they call them) of euery parish, with
  the consent of the whole Parish, prouide half a score of twenty
  quarters of mault, wherof some they buy of the Church-stock, and
  some is giuen them of the Parishioners them selves, euery one
  conferring somewhat, according to his abilitie; which mault, beeing
  made into very strong ale or beere, it is set to sale, either in
  the Church, or some other place assigned to that purpose.

  Then, when the _Nippitatum_, this Huf-cap (as they call it) and
  this _nectar_ of lyfe, is set abroche, wel is he that can get
  the soonest to it, and spend the most at it; for he that fitteth
  the closest to it, and spends the moste at it, he is counted the
  godliest man of all the rest; but who either cannot, for pinching
  pouertie, or otherwise, wil not stick to it, he is counted one
  destitute bothe of vertue and godlynes. In so much as you shall
  haue many poor men make hard shift for money to spend ther at,
  for it beeing put into this _Corban_, they are perswaded it is
  meritorious, and a good seruice to God. In this kinde of practise
  they continue six weeks, a quarter of a year, yea, half a year
  togither, swilling and gulling, night and day, till they be as
  drunke as Apes, and as blockish as beasts.” (Stubbes, _Ibid._)

They pretend, he says, to repair their churches with money so got:—

  “But who seeth not that they bestow this money vpon nothing lesse
  than in building and repayring of Churches and Oratories? For in
  most places lye they not like swyn coates? their windowes rent,
  their dores broken, their walles fall downe, the roofe all bare,
  and what not out of order? Who seeth not the booke of God, rent,
  ragged, and all betorn, couered in dust, so as this _Epitaphe_ may
  be writ with ones finger vppon it, _ecce nunc in puluere dormio_?
  (Alas;) behold I sleep in dust and oblyuion, not once scarse looked
  vppon, much less red vpon, and the least of all preached vppon.”
  (Stubbes, _Ibid._)

Of wakes and feasts and “the horrible vice of pestiferous dancing” we
need say little. Nor of music, “how it allureth to vanitie”; nor of
cards, dice, tennis, and bowls, all of which we still practise; nor of
the bear-baiting which we have now discontinued. Of the reading of bad
books we may still complain after the manner of Stubbes. In a word, his
_Book of Lamentations_ would serve with slight alterations for to-day
as well as his own age.

On the exchange of English goods for foreign trifles, I find a note in
Furnivall’s edition of Stubbes’ _Anatomy_:—

    “Thou must carry beside, leather, tallow, beef, bacon, bell-metal
        and everything:
    And for these good commodities, trifles into England thou must
        bring,
    As bugles to make bables, coloured bones, glass beads to make
        bracelets withal,
    For every day gentlewomen of England do ask for such trifles from
        stall to stall:
    And you must bring more, as amber, jet, coral, crystal, and every
        such bable
    That is slight, pretty, and pleasant: they care not to have it
        profitable.
    And if they demand wherefore your wares and merchandise agree,
    You must say ‘jet will take up a straw: amber will make one fat:
    Coral will look pale when you be sick, and crystal staunch blood,’
    So with lying, flattering and glosing, you must utter your ware,
    And you shall win me to your will, if you can deceitfully swear.

           •       •       •       •       •

    _Lucre._ Then, Signor Mercatore, I am forthwith to send ye
    From hence to search for some new toys in Barbary and in Turkey;
    Such trifles as you think will please wantons best,
    For you know in this country ’tis their chiefest request.

    _Mercatore._ Indeed, de gentlewomans here buy so much vain toys
    Dat we strangers laugh-a to tink wherein dey have their joys.”

The suppressing of the Religious Houses produced, for a time, a great
deal of hardship and difficulty. For not only were the friars turned
out into the streets, but all the people living upon the monasteries
were deprived of their daily bread; many of these unfortunates took
to the road and became tramps, vagabonds, masterless men and thieves;
many took refuge in those parts of London which were outside the
jurisdiction of the City. London, indeed, was the place which the
masterless man regarded as a veritable Paradise. They flocked up to
London from all quarters; they were constantly being turned out and as
constantly coming back again. When Queen Elizabeth once drove out to
the country cottage of Islington, she was mobbed by a gang of vagabonds
who accosted her with clamours; they harboured in the brick kilns
there. In some parts close to London, as Hyde Park Corner and Lincoln’s
Inn Fields, no one would venture after dark. Men took arms into their
bedrooms at night, ready for use. Generally it seems that they hung
a drawn sword at the bedside. The ’prentices, however, were the best
protectors to a house. They slept in the shop, if there were a shop;
or if there were no shop they slept somewhere on the ground floor, as
is evident from the edifying revelations of “Meriton Latron,” in which
it is shown how easily the ’prentices could get out at night for these
riotous and profligate meetings and drinkings. I suppose it matters
nothing that this writer belongs to the next century. In such small
matters the world is conservative. According to this authority, it was
common for ’prentices to rob their masters, exchanging with each other
or holding a kind of auction in their taverns at night. The time when
the City was most free from crimes was when the men had been called out
to follow the flag and fight. The worst time was after the war, when
they all came back again to their old haunts, thirsting for their old
amusements and more disinclined for work than ever.




                              CHAPTER II

                            FOOD AND DRINK


The manner and times of taking food under the Tudors may be summed up
as follows:—

For breakfast, those who made a meal before dinner at all, took,
in the country, pottage, and, in town, “muskadel and eggs,” or
bread-and-butter with a draught of small ale. The Princess Mary, in
1533, used to eat so much meat for breakfast that she terrified her
physicians. It does not appear, however, that the workpeople took
anything at all unless it were a draught of small ale before their
dinner at ten. The hour of dinner varied during the century from ten
till twelve. For children there was “nuntion” or luncheon before dinner
and a “bever” or slight repast between dinner and supper. Venner
recommends no breakfast at all, but to wait for dinner. If, however,
one cannot wait, then he advises poached eggs, with salt, pepper,
a little vinegar, bread-and-butter and claret. When Cosmo, Duke of
Tuscany, came to the country he visited Colonel John Nevill, and had
breakfast with him, drinking Italian wine.

The dinners were plentiful and varied. A salad was served first, then
the beef and mutton; next fowls, and fish; game followed, woodcock
being the most plentiful; and pastry and sweets came last. Honey was
poured over the meat. The most important part of the meal, however, was
the “banquet” or dessert which followed: at this part of the dinner an
amazing quantity of sweetmeats was taken; for this every one adjourned
to another room in winter; to the garden in summer.

In the winter fresh meat was not always to be had: most people laid in
large quantities of beef in October and November, which they salted.
The markets, however, made up for the absence of fresh meat by the
abundance of all kinds of birds which were brought into London; they
were trapped, or shot with sling and stone, in the marshes along the
lower reaches of the Thames. Pork could be had all the year round.
Fresh fish was generally plentiful, but it was sometimes dear. At such
times the people fell back upon stockfish, which was often bad and
the cause of much disease. Herrings were brought by sea from Yarmouth
in barrels, and partly salted, as they are at this day. They were a
favourite form of food, and were made into pasties highly spiced.

The food of the sixteenth century was more stimulating than our own:
the only drink was fermented and alcoholic, even the small beer which
was the national beverage; there was no tea or coffee; vast quantities
of wine were taken; there were nearly a hundred different kinds, more
than half being French. Wine of Bordeaux was sold at 8d. the gallon;
Spanish wine at 1s. In drinking sack, the cup was half filled with
sugar. Indeed, sugar or honey was taken with everything: with roast
meat, with wine, and in the form of sweetmeats; so that the teeth of
most people were black in consequence.

A diet so stimulating could not fail to produce its effects in causing
the people to be more easily moved to wrath, to love, to pity, to
jealousy—than a diet composed of tea and coffee. There can be no doubt
whatever that all classes of men and women were far readier with hand
and tongue than at present; swifter to wrath; more prone to sudden
outbursts; more quick with dagger or sword.

Their tables were set out on trestles for the dinner and removed after
dinner. People sat on stools; the floor was strewn with rushes; the
tables, not the floors, were covered with rich carpets.

A piece of the table furniture which has long since disappeared was
the Roundel. It is supposed to have been used for fruit. A set of
Roundels, not quite perfect, is described in _Archæologia_ (vol.
xxxix.). They are circular and of wood, the upper side perfectly plain;
the lower side is partly covered with black paint or dye and partly
white. A legend, in rhyme, runs round the outer edge, and within is a
figure with a number. The figure and letters are gilt. In this example
nine trenchers out of the twelve represent the Courtier, the Country
gentleman, the Lawyer, and so forth—characters of the time, the verses
being taken from a book called _The XII. Wonders of the World_.

It is pleasing to learn from Harrison of the reform introduced in his
own time by the revival of the custom of taking vegetables of all kinds
and plentifully. He says:—

“Such herbes, fruits, and roots also as grow yeerlie out of the ground,
of seed, have been verie plentifull in this land, in the time of the
first Edward, and after his daies; but in processe of time they grew
also to be neglected, so that from Henrie the fourth till the latter
end of Henrie the seventh, and beginning of Henrie the eight, there was
little or no use of them in England, but they remained either unknowne,
or supposed as food more meet for hogs and savage beasts to feed upon
than mankind. Whereas in my time their use is not onlie resumed among
the poore commons, I mean of melons, pompions, gourds, cucumbers,
radishes, skirets, parsneps, carrets, cabbages, nauewes, turneps, and
all kinds of salad herbs, but also fed upon as deintie dishes at the
tables of delicate merchants, gentlemen, and the nobilitie, who make
their provision yearlie for new seeds out of strange countries, from
whence they have them aboundantlie.” (Holinshed’s _Chronicles_.)

The Flemings commenced the first market-gardens. Lettuce was served as
a separate dish, and eaten at supper before meat. Capers were usually
eaten boiled with oil and vinegar, as a salad. Eschalots were used to
smear the plate before putting meat on it. Carrots had been introduced
by the Flemings. Rhubarb, then called Patience, came from China about
1573. The common people ate turnip-leaves as a salad, and roasted the
root in wood-ashes. Watercress was believed to restore the bloom to
young ladies’ cheeks.

They used mustard and horse-radish; they took anchovies with wine;
they took olives with wine; they had boiled oysters; boiled radishes,
artichokes raw or boiled; they poured honey or spread sugar over their
beef and mutton; they served pork in many ways, but if roasted, then
with green sauce of sorrel; salmon they stuck with cloves; they ate
porpoises; turkeys were roasted with cloves; peacocks they roasted
while they were still under a year old; pigeons they stuffed with sour
grapes or unripe gooseberries; rabbits were cheap and plentiful; pies
of all kinds were very popular. They made salad out of barberries in
pickle or with lettuces as in modern fashion. In the ordinaries and
taverns there were no wine-glasses: people drank out of green pots made
of white clay. They took supper at six; this was a smaller meal than
dinner, but yet a plentiful meal. In a word, the Elizabethan Englishman
lived much as the modern Frenchman lives: he took two meals a day and
no more. In the principal ordinaries and inns musicians attended; even
in the cheaper ones a viol de gamba was kept for everybody who could
play; men dined for choice at the ordinary, which was a great deal
cheaper than the tavern; it was not customary for the ladies to appear
at taverns. An inn was known by its painted lattice; all kinds of
wine could be had at most taverns, but foreign wines were sold to the
general public by apothecaries. Waiters wore aprons. In private houses,
but not at ordinaries and taverns, the silver fork had been introduced.

            “The laudable use of forks,
    Brought into custom here, as they are in Italy,
          To th’ sparing o’ napkins.”

And in Ben Jonson’s _Volpone_,

    “Then must you learn the use
    And handling of your silver fork at meals.”

I have found inventories of household goods as late as the end of
the seventeenth century without any mention of forks. I am inclined,
therefore, to believe that they came into use very slowly, and that
the old fashion of eating with a knife, fingers, and bread, lasted in
country houses at least until the end of the seventeenth century. It
is a survival of the old manner of eating which makes the lower class
“eat with their knives.” Let me add that in my own recollection the
practice has almost entirely disappeared. Forty years ago one could not
take dinner at a tavern or an eating-house without seeing some of the
company helping themselves with their knives.

[Illustration: Tittle-Tattle; Or, the several Branches of Gossipping.

From a satirical print in the British Museum.]

Here is the bill of a dinner given to the Lord Treasurer, the
Chancellor, the Lord Chief Baron, and others not named, on 4th June
1573:—

                                                              _s._  _d._
  Imprimis  Bread, ale, and beer                                13     4
  Item      Two sorloines of beef                               10     0
    „       Four gees                                            7     0
    „       Four joyntes of veale                                6     8
    „       Six capons                                          13     8
    „       Three quarters of lambe                              4     0
    „       A dozen of chickens                                  5     0
    „       A dozen of rabbites                                  4     8
    „       Half a dozen quayles                                 6     8
    „       For butter                                           4     0
    „       For eggs                                             1     0
    „       For vinegar, vergis barberius and mustard            1     0
    „       For spices                                           1     0
    „       For fruite                                           6     0
    „       For rose water and swete water                       0     8
    „       For scrill and parsley                               0     6
    „       For White Wine                                       1     4
    „       For flowers and strong herbes                        0     6
    „       For sacke                                            1     0
    „       For fier                                             5     0
    „       For cook’s wages                                     6     0
    „       For boote hier                                       1     4
    „       For occupying plate, naperie and other necessaries   5     0

Unfortunately these bills never contain the whole. It is of course
impossible to believe that one shilling and fourpence represents the
whole of the wine consumed on this occasion.

Ben Jonson thus ridicules the care and thought expended upon feasting:—

    “A master-cook! why, he’s the man of men
    For a professor! he designs, he draws,
    He paints, he carves, he builds, he fortifies,
    Makes citadels of curious fowl and fish,
    Some he dry-dishes, some moats round with broths:
    Mounts marrow-bones, cuts fifty-angled custards,
    Rears bulwark pies, and for his outer works
    He raiseth ramparts of immortal crust;
    And teacheth all the tactics at one dinner:
    What ranks, what files, to put his dishes in:
    The whole art military. Then he knows
    The influence of the stars upon his meats,
    And all their seasons, tempers, qualities,
    And so to fit his relishes and sauces.
    He had nature in a pot, ’bove all the chymists,
    Or airy brethren of the Rosie-cross.
    He is an architect, an engineer,
    A soldier, a physician, a philosopher,
    A general mathematician.”

And again in his dream of luxurious living:—

    “We will be brave, Puff, now we have the med’cine.
    My meat shall all come in, in Indian shells,
    Dishes of agate set in gold, and studded
    With emeralds, sapphires, hyacinths, and rubies.
    The tongues of carps, dormice, and camels’ heels,
    Boil’d in the spirit of sol, and dissolv’d pearl,
    Apicius’ diet, ’gainst the epilepsy;
    And I will eat these broths with spoons of amber,
    Headed with diamond and carbuncle.
    My foot-boy shall eat pheasants, calver’d salmons,
    Knots, godwits, lampreys: I myself will have
    The beards of barbels served instead of salads.”
                                                     _The Alchemist._

And this for a more sober supper, yet not without its points of
excellence:—

    “Yet shall you have to rectify your palate,
    An olive, capers, or some better salad
    Ushering the mutton; with a short legg’d hen,
    If we can get her full of eggs, and then,
    Limons, and wine for sauce; to these, a coney
    Is not to be despar’d of for our money;
    And though fowl now be scarce, yet there are clerks,
    The sky not falling, think we may have larks,
    I’ll tell you of more, and lie, so you will come:
    Of partridge, pheasant, woodcock, of which some
    May yet be there; and godwit if we can:
    Knat, rail, and ruf too, howsoe’er, my man
    Shall read a piece of Virgil, Tacitus,
    Livy, or of some better book to us,
    Of which we’ll speak our minds, amidst our meat;
    And I’ll profess no verses to repeat.
    To this, if aught appear, which I not know of,
    That will the pastry, not my paper, show of.
    Digestive cheese, and fruit there sure will be;
    But that which most doth take my muse and me,
    Is a pure cup of rich Canary wine,
    Which is the Mermaid’s now, but shall be mine:
    Of which had Horace or Anacreon tasted,
    Their lives, as do their lines, till now had lasted.
    Tobacco, nectar, or the Thespian spring,
    Are all but Luther’s beer to this I sing.”

The greatest attention was paid to the service of the table: not only,
for instance, must the carving be performed in manner peculiar to each
kind of creature, but each creature had its own verb signifying its
carving. The terms used for carving are curious and now completely
forgotten:—

“Breke that deer; lesche that brawn; rere that goose; lyfte that
swanne; sauce that capon; spoil that hen; fruche that chekyn; unbrace
that mallard; unlace that conye; desmembre that heron; display that
crane; dysfygure that pecocke; unjoint that byterrne; untache that
curlewe; allay that desande; wynge that patryche; wynge that quail;
mynce that plover; thye that pygyon; border that pastie; thye that
woodcocke; thye all maner of small birds; tymbre that fyre; tyere that
egge; chyne that samon; strynge that lampreye; splatte that pyke; sauce
that plaice; sauce that tench; splay that breme; syde that haddock;
tuske that berbell; culpon that trout; fyne that cheven; transene that
ele; traunche that sturgeon; under-traunch that porpus; tayme that
crabbe; barbe that lobster. Here endeth the goodlye termes of kervynge.”

The way in which the table was to be served was presented, in general
terms, as follows:—

    “Slow be the servers in serving, alwaye,
    But swift be they after, taking meate away;
    A special custom used is them amonge,
    No good dishe to suffer on borde to be longe.
    If the dishe be pleasante, whether fleshe or fishe,
    Ten hande at once swarme in the dishe;
    And if it be fleshe, ten knives shalt thou see
    Mangling the fleshe, and in the platter flee;
    Put there thy hands in peryl without fayle
    Without a gauntlet or a glove of mayle.”
                                     _Antiquary’s Portfolio_, p. 130.

And next in minute detail. Thus including the reception of a guest. Let
us first remember that the plates were commonly of bread, but sometimes
of wood. When they were of bread, the loaves were first carefully
pared; then the butler placed the salt-cellar before the principal
guest, and in front of the salt-cellar, upon the carving knives, he
was to place the bread. But before Grace this was to be removed, and
replaced in thick slices one upon the other.

  “Thenne the karver or sewer most asserve every disshe in his degree
  after order, and course of service, as folowith:—

    First, mustard and brawne, swete wine served thereto.
    Potage.
    Befe and moton, swan or geese.
    Grete pies, capon or fesaunt, leche or fretours.

  Thenne if potage be chaungebill after tyme and season of the yere,
  as falleth, as here is rehersid: by exampel for befe and moton ye
  shall take

    Pestelles, or chynys of porke, or els
    Tonge of befe, or
    Tonge of the harte powdered,
    Befe stewed,
    Chekyns boylyd and bacon.

  Then against the secunde cours be redy, and come into the place,
  the kerver must avoyde and take upp the service of the first cours,
  begynnynge at the lowest mete forst, and all broke cromys, bonys,
  and trenchours, before the secunde cours and service be served.

  Thenne the secunde cours shall be served in manner and forme as
  ensample thereof, hereafter folowyng:—

      Potage-pigge             Lamme stewed
      Conye                    Kidde roosted
      Crane                    Veneson roosted
      Heronseue                Heronseue
      Bitoure                  Bitoure
      Egrete                   Pigeons
      Curlewe                  Rabetts
      Wodecock                 A bake meat
      Petrigge                 Stokke dovys stewed
      Plover                   Cony
      Snytys                   Mallard
      Qualys                   Gelys
      Fretours                 Wodecock
      Leche                    Great byrdys

  After the secunde cours served, kerved, and spente, it must be
  sene cuppys to be filled, trenchours to be voyded, thenne by goode
  avysement the tabill must be take uppe in manner as folowith:
  first, when tyme foloweth, the panter or boteler muste gader
  uppe the sponys: after that done by leyser, the sewer or carver
  shall begyne at the lowest ende, and in order take upp the lowest
  messe, after the syde tabill be avoyded and take upp: and thenne
  to procede to the principal tabill, and there honestly and clenly
  avoyde and withdrawe all the service of the high tabill: therto the
  kerver must be redy, and redely have avoyded togeder in all the
  broke brede, trenchours, comys lying upon the tabill, levyng none
  other thyng, save the salte selar, hole brede (if any be lefte),
  and cuppys. After this done by good deliberacion and avysement,
  the kerver shall take the service of the principall messe in
  order and rule, begynnynge at the lowest and so procede in rule
  unto the laste. And thereuppon the kerver to have redy a voyder,
  and to avoyde all men’s trenchours, broke brede in another clene
  disshe voyder, and cromys, which with the kervyng knyf shall be
  avoyded from the tabill, and thus procede untill the table be
  voyded. Thenne the kerver shall go into the cuppibord, and redresse
  and ordeyne wafers into toweyles of raynes (table-cloth) or fine
  napkyns, which moste be cowched fayre and honestly uppon the
  tabill, and thenne serve the principall messe first, and thorowe
  the tabill, i or ij if it so require. Therto moste be servid swete
  wine: and in feriall tyme, serve cheese, scraped with sugar and
  sauge levis, or else that it be fayre kerved hole: or frute as the
  season of the year geveth, strawberys, chevys, peyres, appelis: and
  in wynter, wardens, costardys roste, rosted on fisshe days with
  blanche powder, and so serve it forth.

  Thenne after wafers and frute spended, all manner of thynge shall
  be take uppe, and avoyded, except the principall salte seler,
  hole brede, and kervyng knyves, the which shall be redressed in
  manner and fourme as they were first sette on the table: the which
  principall servitours of the panter or botery, havynge his towaile,
  shall take upp and bear it into his office, in lykewise as he first
  brought it unto the tabill. Thenne the principall servitours, as
  kerver and sewer, most have redy a longe towayle applied double
  to be cowched uppon the principall ende of the tabill: and that
  towelle must be justely drawn thorowe the tabill unto the lower
  ende: and if servitours to awayte thereuppon, that it be mustly
  cowchd and spred: after that done, there must be ordeyned basyns
  and ewers, with water hot or colde as tyme of the yere requireth,
  and to be sette upon the tabill, and to stonde unto the grace be
  said: and incontynent after grace saide, the servitours to be redy
  to awayte and attende to give water: first, to the principall
  messe, and after that to the seconde: incontynent after this done,
  the towayle and tabillclothis muste be drawen, cowched and sprad,
  and so by littill space taken uppe in the myddis of the tabill, and
  so to be delyvered to the office of the pantery or botery.

  Thenne uprysing, servitours must attende to avoyde tabills,
  trestellis, formys, and stoolys, and to redresse bankers and
  quyssyons: then the butler shall avoyde the cupborde, begynnynge at
  the loweste, procede in rule to the hyeste, and bere it into his
  office. Thenne after mete, it most be awayted and well entended by
  servitours, if drinke be asked: and if ther be knyght or lady, or
  grete gentilwoman, they shall be servid upon knee with brede and
  wyne.

  Thenne it mot be sene if strangers shall be broght to chamber,
  and that the chamber be clenly apparelled and dressed accordyng
  to the tyme of yere: as in winter tyme fyre: in sommer tyme the
  bedde covered with pylowes and bed shetys, in case they wolle
  rest: and after this done, they moste have cheer of _neweltees_
  in the chamber, as juncates, cherys, pepyns, and such neweltees
  as the tyme of yere requereth, and swete wynes, Ypocrasse, Tyre,
  Mustadell, bastard beruage, of the beste that may be had to the
  honour and laude of the principall of the house.”

After the dinner was eaten what remained was taken down for the
servants, and whatever was left over when these had finished was
bestowed upon the poor who sat outside the doors waiting their turn.
The drink was served in silver cups and bowls, or else in goblets of
Venetian glass from Murano; the poorer sort had pots of earthenware
bound or set in silver and perhaps pewter. As a rule not more than two
or three dishes were served at a gentleman’s table where there was no
company. This, however, was not the case when a feast was provided,
or by the merchants for themselves. Then such meat as is killed and
provided by the butcher was rejected as not worthy of the occasion.

  “In such cases also geliffes of all colours mixed with a varietie
  in the representation of sundrie floures, herbs, trees, formes of
  beasts, fish, foules, and fruits, and thereunto marchpaine wrought
  with no small curiositie, tarts of diverse hewes and sundrie
  denominations, conserves of old fruites forren and home bred,
  suckets, codinacs, marmilats, marchpaine, sugerbread, gingerbread,
  florentines, wild foule, venison of all sorts, and sundrie
  outlandish confections, altogither seasoned with suger (which
  Plinie calleth Mel ex arundinibus, a devise not common nor greatlie
  used in old time at the table, but onlie in medicine, although
  it grew in Arabia, India and Sicilia), doo generally beare the
  swaie, besides infinite devises of our owne not possible for me to
  remember.” (Holinshed, vol. i. p. 167.)

Every kind of wine was served at these banquets, _e.g._ the fifty-six
various kinds of “small wines” as Claret, White, Red, French, etc.;
but also of the thirty kinds of Italian, German, Spanish, Canary, etc.
And besides these here were the artificial drinks such as Hypocras and
Wormwood wine, besides ale and beer.

The craftsman lived in great plenty: his diet was commonly beef,
mutton, veal and pork; besides which he had brawn, bacon, pies of
fruit, fowls, cheese, butter and eggs. At weddings, purifications,
and so forth, the friends contributed each a dish of some kind, and
the feasting that went on was incredible. At table the custom among
the gentry and better sort was to observe great silence during the
dinner, and on no account to show any sign of being the worse for the
wine they had taken. Enough grain was grown in the country to supply
it with bread; a good deal of bread was made of oats and rye; in times
of dearth beans, peas, and lentils were ground up. Of home-made drinks
besides ale and beer there were cider, perry, and, especially among the
Welsh, mead or metheglin.

  “There is a kind of swish swash made also in Essex, and diverse
  other places, with honicombs and water, which the homelie countrie
  wives, putting some pepper and a little other spice among, call
  mead, verie good in mine opinion for such as love to be loose
  bodied at large, or a little eased of the cough, otherwise it
  differeth so much from the true metheglin, as chalke from cheese.
  Truelie it is nothing else but the washing of the combes, when
  the honie is wroong out, and one of the best things that I know
  belonging thereto is, that they spend but little labour and lesse
  cost in making of the same, and therefore no great losse if it were
  never occupied.” (Holinshed, vol. i. p. 170.)

An oyster feast in the morning seems unusual and unexpected in a
town of working men. We may read, however, how, on 30th July 1557,
a company of citizens met in the cellar of Master Smyth and Master
Gytton in Amber Lane, at eight o’clock in the morning. They devoured
between them half a bushel of oysters, sitting upon hogsheads by
candlelight; the oysters were accompanied by onions—was there no bread,
or bread-and-butter? Only onions? And they drank with their oysters
and onions copious bowls of red ale, claret, muscadel, and malmsey.
It hardly seems a good beginning of the day so far as concerns work.
In these degenerate days a repast of oysters and onions, with ale and
muscadel, claret and malmsey, would prove a fatal feast indeed.

[Illustration:

_Walker & Cockerell._

MARRIAGE FEAST OF SIR H. UNTON

A detail from a painting in the National Portrait Gallery, London.]

Here is a note on an Elizabethan ordinary:—

  “It seemed that all who came thither had clocks in their bellies,
  for they all strucke into the dyning-roome much at aboute the
  very minute of feeding. Our traveller had all the eyes (that
  came in) throwne upon him (as being a stranger), and he as much
  tooke especiall notice of them. In obseruing of whom and of the
  place, he found that an ordinary was the onely Rendeuouz for the
  most ingenious, most terse, most trauaild and most phantastick
  gallant: the very Exchange for newes out of all countries; the
  only booke-sellers’ shop for conference of the best editions,
  that if a woman (to be a Lady) would cast away herselfe upon a
  knight, there a man should heare a catalogue of most of the richest
  London widowes; and last that it was a schoole where they were all
  fellowes of one forme, and that a country gentleman was of as great
  comming as the proudest justice that sat there on the bench aboue
  him; for hee that had the graine of the table with his bencher payd
  no more then he that placed himselfe beneath the salt.

  The bolder hauing cleered the table, cardes and dice are served
  up to the boord; they that are full of coyne draw; they that haue
  little stand by and give ayme; the shuffle and cut on one side,
  the bones rattle on the other; long have they not plaide, but
  oathes fly up and downe the roome like haile-shot; if the poore
  dumb dice be but a little out of the square line of white, the
  pox and a thousand plagues breake their neckes out at a window.”
  (_Antiquary_, vol. xv.)

The following is contemporary evidence. It is taken from the
_Antiquarian Repertory_ (vol. iv. p. 512), 1558:—

  “The people of London consume great quantities of beer, double and
  single [strong and small], and do not drink it out of glasses, but
  from earthen pots with silver handles and covers, and this even in
  houses of persons of middling fortunes; for as to the poor, the
  covers of their pots are only pewter, and in some places, such as
  villages, their pots for beer are made only of wood.

  They eat much whiter bread than that commonly made in France,
  altho’ it was in my time as cheap as it is sold there. With their
  beer they have a custom of eating very soft saffron cakes, in which
  there are likewise raisins, which give a relish to the beer, of
  which there was formerly at Rye some as good as I ever drank. The
  houses of the people of this country are as well furnished as any
  in the world. Likewise, in this country you will scarcely find any
  nobleman, some of whose relations have not been beheaded.”

A few more notes on food. They drank brewis, that is, the pot liquor
with bread in it; they were fond of pigs’ faces washed and dressed
by the housewife; they bought tripe in Eastcheap, and poultry in
Gracechurch Street; they drank wines with strange names: Pedro Ximenes,
Charnico, Eleatica. The clerks took their dinner at the cooks’ shops
by messes of so many; the portion of the whole mess was served in a
dish and one divided the food, after which they helped themselves by
seniority; a yeoman’s fare was bread, beef, and beer. The poor man was
served from the basket which stood in the hall and received broken
meats. The Sheriffs sent such baskets and other food to the prisons.
The citizens’ proverbial Sunday dinner was neck of beef.




                              CHAPTER III

                            DRESS—WEDDINGS


In the Elizabethan age, the poet, satirists, and preachers are so
full of the subject of feminine fashions that it becomes of great
importance. The increase of wealth and the growing power of the middle
class give a greater prominence to women’s dress, while the improvement
in the streets and the roads, the introduction of coaches and the
development of outdoor amusements, theatres, shows, masques, gardens,
and water-parties bring the wives and daughters of London more into the
open.

[Illustration: Farthingale. Lady Runsdon.

From Planché’s _Cyclopædia of Costume_.]

It was a time of great expenditure upon clothes; the fashions were rich
and costly; the custom was to make what we should call an ostentatious
display of wealth. Ben Jonson and the dramatists are full of the
extravagance of City madams. Not only did the ladies wear rich dresses;
they prided themselves upon possessing a great number—as many as they
could afford; in every house there was a room called the Wardrobe, in
which the clothes of the household were hung up and carefully watched
and kept from moth and decay.

At the beginning of her reign the Queen, who set the fashion, wore a
small ruff, with a kerchief about her neck; a kind of coat of black
velvet and ermine fastened at the throat only; with a waistcoat and
kirtle below of white silk or silver embroidered with black; on the
shoulders were humps, and the sleeves were large. Stubbes abuses the
fashion because it is “proper only to a man, yet they blush not to
wear it.” The cap or coif was adorned with strings of pearls. Lawn and
cambric ruffs came in shortly after Elizabeth’s accession. A Flemish
woman named Van der Plasse came over and set up as a starcher of ruffs.
The mere mention of starch made Stubbes furiously angry; the ruff was a
“master devil”; the devil himself invented starch.

[Illustration:

LADY IN THE COURT OF QUEEN ELIZABETH, 1559. NOBLE MATRON OF ENGLAND,
1577.

From _Collection of Ancient and Modern Dresses_, 1772.]

The custom of wearing whalebone to imprison the figure down to the hips
also began early in the reign; a long stomacher descended in front, and
from the hips stood out the farthingale, horizontally; a hideous thing
which was perpetuated in the hoop for two hundred years. As for the
gowns they were made, to the indignation of the satirist, “of silk,
of velvet, of grograin, of taffata, and of fine cloth, ten, twenty,
or forty shillings a yard”; they were decorated with lace two fingers
broad, or with velvet edged with lace. The petticoats were also of the
finest stuff, fringed with silk, and in addition, they had a kirtle
also of fine stuff and fringed with lace and silk. It appears therefore
that they had first a gown which was pulled back and showed the kirtle,
which itself was pulled back and disclosed the petticoat.

[Illustration:

ENGLISH LADY OF QUALITY, 1588 ENGLISH NOBLEMAN, 1559

From _Collection of Ancient and Modern Dresses_, 1772.]

Their stockings were made of the finest cloth, yarn, or worsted; silk
stockings were presented to the Queen in her third year; knitted
worsted stockings were introduced from Italy; the stockings of the fine
ladies were “curiously indented in every point with quicks, clocks, and
open seams.” They wore cork shoes made, like the petticoats and kirtle,
of anything that was costly and rare and could be embroidered.

The fashions of wearing the hair were endless. It was curled in
innumerable curls; it was crisped; it was built up over a cushion; it
was laid out over the forehead; it was ornamented with jewels, gold,
wreaths of silver and gold, and kept in place with hairpins; the women
wore over their hair French hoods, hats, and caps; they wore cauls
made of net-wire and cloth of gold and tinsel; they wore “lattice” caps
with horns; and every merchant’s wife or mean gentlewoman indulged in
these extravagant fashions.

    “The cappe on hyre heade
      Is lyke a sowes mawe;
    Such another facion
      I thynke never Jewe sawe.
    Then fyne geare on the foreheade
      After the newe trycke,
    Though it coste a crowne or two,
      What then? They may not stycke.
    If theyr heyr wyl not take colour,
      Then must they buy newe,
    And laye it out in tussocks;
      This thynge is too true,
    At each syde a tussocke
      As bygge as a ball.
    Hyr face faire payned
    To make it shine bright
    And her bosom all bare,
    Hyr mydle braced in
      As small as a wande;
    And some buy water of qyre
      At the paste wyf’s hande.”

As for the merchants’ wives, their dress is described in the following
lines:—

                      “You wore
    Satin on solemn days, a chain of gold,
    A velvet hood, rich borders, and sometimes
    A dainty miniver cap, a silver pin,
    Headed with a pearl worth threepence.”

It was a common practice to entice little children into private places
and unfrequented courts there to cut off their long hair to be made up
into false hair for women. Long and beautiful hair was in great request
by the fashionable dames of the time. Brides especially went to the
altar with flowing locks, the longer the better.

    “Come, come, my Lord, untie your folded thoughts,
    And let them dangle loose as a bride’s hair.”

In a word, the Elizabethan fine lady was very fine indeed; much more
artificial than her grandmother, and much less beautiful therefore.
She painted her face; she dyed her hair, sometimes changing the colour
from time to time, a practice which explains the different colour
of the hair in Queen Mary’s portraits. She used perfumes copiously;
she carried a large feather fan with a costly handle of silver or
ivory. She also carried a mirror hanging from her girdle with which to
contemplate the thing she loved best—her own face, made up, painted,
and set in the frame of ruff and cap; strings of pearls were round
the cap and a gold chain round the throat. And she frequented, but
secretly, the wise women—there were scores of them in the city—who
knew secrets ineffable—secrets that were like magic; perhaps they
were magic—for the improvement and preservation of the complexion,
the brightness of the eyes, the gloss of the hair, the softness and
smoothness of the arm and the throat, and everything that was open to
the gaze of man. Ben Jonson preserves as in a phonograph the words and
voice of the wise woman.

                FOR LADIES’ COMPLEXIONS

    “_Wit._                    They have
    Water of gourds, of radish, the white beans,
    Flowers of glass, of thistles, rose-marine,
    Raw honey, mustard seed, and bread dough baked,
    The crums of bread, goat’s-milk, and whites of eggs,
    Camphire, and lily-roots, the fat of swans,
    Marrow of veal, white pigeons, and pine-kernals,
    The seeds of nettles, purseline, and hare’s-gall:
    Lemons, thin-skinn’d——

    _Lady E._          How her ladyship has studied
    All excellent things!

    _Wit._                But ordinary, madam:
    No, the true rarities are the alvagada
    And argentata of queen Isabella.

    _Lady T._ Ay, what are their ingredients, gentle madam?

    _Wit._ Your allum scagliola, or pol di pedra:
    And zuccarino: turpentine of Abezzo,
    Wash’d in nine waters: soda dilevants,
    Or your fern ashes: benjamin di gotta:
    Grasso di serpe: porceletto marino:
    Oils of lentisco: zucche mugia: make
    The admirable varnish for the face,
    Gives the right lustre: but two drops rubb’d on
    With a piece of scarlet, makes a lady of sixty
    Look as sixteen. But above all, the water
    Of the white hen, of the lady Estifania’s.

    _Lady T._ O, ay, that same, good madam, I have heard of:
    How is it done?

    _Wit._              Madam, you take your hen,
    Plume it, and skin it, cleanse it o’ the inwards:
    Then chop it bones and all: add to four ounces:
    Of carravicins, pipitas, soap of Cyprus,
    Make the decoction, strain it: then distil it,
    And keep it in your gallipot well gliddered:
    Three drops preserves from wrinkles, warts, spots, moles,
    Blemish, or sun-burnings: and keeps the skin
    In decimo sexto, ever bright and smooth,
    As any looking-glass: and indeed is call’d
    A ceruse, neither cold or heat, oglio reale:
    And mix’d with oil of myrrh and the red gilliflower,
    Call’d cataputia, and flowers of rovistico,
    Makes the best muta or dye of the whole world.”

The stuffs worn by gentlemen were taffeta; mockado—an inferior velvet;
grogram—a cheaper taffeta; quellio for the ruff; tamin; sendall; and
many others which are now mere words. The poorer women, not to be
outdone more than was necessary, bought the same clothes, made in the
same style, of the fripperer, or broker, who dealt in second-hand
clothes. Now the great danger of buying second-hand clothes was that
you might at the same time buy the plague.

Men were never so affected and so splendid in their dress as in the
sixteenth century. They wore earrings; they wore costly brooches in
their hats; the great nobles wore strings of pearls; they had thumb
rings; they carried jewelled daggers; they carried a case of toothpicks
with them; they carried their own napkins to the taverns; they had a
favourite lock of hair, which they curled and treated tenderly, tying a
rose to it or a bunch of ribbons; they wore their hair and their beards
in fantastic ways, either after the French, Italian, or Spanish manner.
As for the younger men, they played the usual tricks. That is to say,
they tried to make the waist small; they wore “grulled calves”; they
“bleached their hands at midnight, gumming and triding their beards.”
Sleeves were slashed; girdles were hung with mirrors; the head was set
in a ruff; high-heeled shoes raised the stature; men’s cloaks were of
velvet trimmed with lace; buttons, buckles, and clasps were of gold;
the hats were adorned with feathers.

[Illustration: WEALTHY MERCHANT OF LONDON, 1588

From _Collection of Ancient and Modern Dresses_, 1772.]

Tavern life in the time of the Tudors was picturesque and pleasant.
The taverns were frequented not only by gallants and merchants, but
by ladies. Suppers, it is true, were given to bona robas; the viol de
gamba played for companies not always the most respectable; but there
were rooms which the City madams used as a resort for parties of their
own friends; and that without any question of offence.

[Illustration: PAGE BOY, TIME OF EDWARD VI

From _Collection of Ancient and Modern Dresses_, 1772.]

The City Trained Bands were gorgeous in white doublets, with the City
arms before and behind; the men-servants wore gorgeous liveries. Dress
to a certain extent indicated class. Law and Divinity wore black.
Furred gowns and satin sleeves marked the Sheriff or the Alderman. The
plain citizen wore a cloak of brown or chocolate colour; the craftsman
wore a doublet of cloth, or leather, with a leather belt, and in winter
an overcoat down to the knees or the ankles. The following is the
description of a runaway page:—

  “One doblet of yelow million fustian, th’one halfe therof buttoned
  with peche-colour buttons, and th’other halfe laced downewardes;
  one payer of peche-colour hose, laced with smale tawnye lace; a
  graye hat with a copper edge rounde aboute it, with a bande p’cell
  of the same hatt; a payer of watchet (blue) stockings. Likewise he
  hath twoe clokes; th’one of vessey collor, garded with twoe gards
  of black clothe and twisted lace of carnacion colour, and lyned
  with crymsone bayes; and th’other is a red shipp russet colour,
  striped about th’cape, and downe the fore face, twisted with two
  rows of twisted lace, russet and gold buttons afore and uppon the
  sholdier, being of the clothe itselfe, set with the said twisted
  lace, and the buttons of russet silke and golde.”

[Illustration: Sir William Russell. 1590.

From Planché’s _Cyclopœdia of Costume_.]

’Prentices wore a dress very much like that of the Blue Coat Boys,
but with a flat cap. A citizen’s servant wore a blue livery. Knots of
ribbons were tied on the shoes. The women gathered round the conduit
and the bakehouse for gossip. The tradesmen issued their own tokens
which passed current. Girls who served in the shops were taken on
Sundays by their sweethearts to Islington or Pimlico. Shops were
furnished with cudgels for the use of ’prentices in case of a fight.
The cudgels were called by various endearing names, but the favourite
name was a “Plymouth Cloak.” Clothes were washed at the riverside on
wood or a flat stone. The love of fine dress is charged as a fault of
the fair Londoners. Why they should be blamed for desiring what all
men desire, viz. the appearance of bravery and splendour, is hard to
understand. The sumptuary laws which were passed from time to time
appear to have been intended not so much to prevent the gratification
of this instinctive desire as to make different classes proclaim their
rank and station by their dress. A tradesman, in fact, must not appear
as a gentleman; nor a craftsman as a master. In a word, there was a
constant feeling that rank should be indicated by outward apparel, and
that every one should proclaim his station by his garments. Thus the
Act of 1464 ordered

  “That none below the dignity of a lord or knight of the garter, or
  their wives, should be allowed to wear purple, or any manner of
  cloth of gold, velvet or sable furs, under a penalty of 20 marks.
  That none below knights, bachelors, mayors, and aldermen, and their
  wives, should wear satin or ermine, under a penalty of 10 marks.
  That none but such as had possessions to the amount of 40s. per
  annum should be permitted to wear fustian, bustian, or scarlet
  cloth, and no fur, but black or white lamb, on forfeiture of 40s.

  That no yeoman, nor any under that degree, should be allowed to
  stuff or bolster their doublets, to wear short cloaks or jackets,
  or shoes with pikes passing the length of eleven inches, under a
  penalty of 20s.

  That no husbandman should use broad cloth at above 11s. a yard, nor
  hose above 14d. a pair: nor their wives kerchiefs whereof the price
  should exceed 12d. nor girdles harnessed with silver, upon pain of
  forfeiting at every default 40d.

  And because foreign kerchiefs were brought into the country, and
  sold at such extravagant prices, it was ordained that any one
  selling lawne, nyfell, umple, or other manner of kerchief whereof
  the price should exceed 10s. the seller should forfeit a mark for
  every one that he sold above that price.”

[Illustration: COURT OF WARDS AND LIVERIES IN THE TIME OF ELIZABETH

From Planché’s _Cyclopædia of Costume_.

  The person at the head of the table appears to be Lord Burghley;
  on either side of him is a judge, who may have been there as
  assessors. The next on the left side is Thomas Seckford, who held
  the office of Surveyor from 1580 to 1589. The one opposite may be
  Richard Kingsmill, Attorney from 1582 to 1589. The third on the
  left side may be George Goring, Receiver-General from 1583 to 1593.
  The opposite person with a book open may be William Tooke, Auditor
  1551 to 1588. The three persons at the lower end of the table are
  clerks. At the left hand side next the end is the Usher with a rod.
  In 1578 Marmaduke Servant held this office. Opposite to him on the
  other side stands the Messenger, who in 1565 was Leonard Taylor.
  This picture was probably made about 1585.]

To those who take the worthy Philip Stubbes quite seriously and
literally, the Elizabethan age will appear more than commonly wicked
and unscrupulous; to those who are ready to make allowance for
the exaggerated indignation of the satirist, the narrowness of the
Puritan, and the real and genuine craving after equity, justice, and
honesty, it will become manifest that the age contained, like every
other age, grave abuses, great injustices, and much small meanness
and trickery. Laws were passed attempting to restrain the tricks of
clothiers, tanners, shoemakers, and “brokers,” _i.e._ pawnbrokers and
marine store-dealers. These laws failed, as all such laws must fail,
because men who wish to cheat will cheat in spite of any laws that may
be passed. In truth there is very little in Stubbes but does not belong
to every town and every age. He laments the pride of the age. So does
every satirist. Especially he laments Pride of Apparel. Take their hats
for instance:—

  “Sometimes they use them sharp on the crowne, pearking up like a
  spere, or shafte of a steeple, standing a quarter of a yard above
  the crowne of their heades; some more, some lesse, as please the
  phantasies of their inconstant mindes. Othersome be flat and broad
  on the crowne, like the battlementes of a house. An other sort have
  round crownes, sometymes with one kinde of bande, sometymes with
  an other; now blacke, now white, now russet, now red, now grene,
  now yellowe, now this, nowe that, never content with one colour or
  fashion two daies to an ende....

  And as the fashions bee rare and straunge, so is the stuffe wherof
  their hattes be made, divers also; for some are of silke, some
  of velvet, some of taffatie, some of sarcenet, some of wooll,
  and, whiche is more curious, some of a certaine kind of fine
  haire.... And so common a thinge it is, that everie servingman,
  countrieman, and other, even all indifferently, do weare of these
  hattes. For he is of no account or estimation amongst men, if hee
  have not a velvet or a taffatie hatte, and that muste bee pincked
  and cunningly carved of the beste fashion. And good profitable
  hattes bee these, for the longer you weare them the fewer holes
  they haue. Besides this, of late there is a new fashion of wearyng
  their hattes sprung up amongst them, which they father upon the
  Frenchmen, namely, to weare them without bandes; but how unseemely
  (I will not saie how assie) a fashion that is, let the wise judge;
  notwithstanding, howe ever it be, if it please them, it shall not
  displease me. And an other sort (as phantasticall as the rest) are
  content with no kinde of hat without a greate bunche of feathers
  of divers and sundrie colours, peakyng on top of their heades, not
  unlike (I dare not saie) Cockescombes, but as sternes of pride and
  ensigns of vanitie.” (Stubbes, 1836 edition, p. 38.)

[Illustration:

Robert de Vere, Earl of Oxford. John Clinch, Chief Justice of the
Common Pleas. 1584. Sir Edward Coke, Chief Justice of the King’s Bench.
1613.

From Planché’s _Cyclopædia of Costume_.]

Marriages took place at an earlier age than is now common, both for
men and for women. An unmarried girl of twenty was regarded as an old
maid. Thus in the _Crowne Garland of Golden Roses_ the maiden laments
her virginity:—

    “Twenty winters have I seen,
    And as many summers greene,
    ’Tis long enough to breed despaire
    So long a maidenhead to beare;
    ’Tis a burden of such waight
    That I would faine be eas’d of’t straight;
    But alasse! I am afraid
    I shall live and die a maid.”

The betrothal took place forty days before the wedding:—

    “A contract of eternal bond of love,
    Confirmed by mutual joinder of your hands,
    Attested by the holy close of lips,
    Strengthened by interchangement of your rings;
    And all the ceremony of this compact
    Seal’d in my function, by my testimony.”

To make the betrothal binding there were, therefore, four points to be
observed: (1) The joining of hands; (2) the exchange of kisses; (3) the
exchange of rings; (4) the testimony of witnesses.

After the betrothal, the wedding:—

  “The procession accompanying a rural bride, of some consequence,
  or of the middle rank, to church was as follows:—The bride, being
  attired in a gown of sheep’s russet, and a kirtle of fine worsted,
  her hair attired with a ‘billement of gold’ (decorated with long
  chains of gold), and her hair as yellow as gold hanging down behind
  her, which was curiously combed and plaited, was led to the church
  between two sweet boys, with bride laces and rosemary tied about
  their silken sleeves. There was carried before her a fair bride-cup
  of silver, gilt, filled with hippocras and garnished with a goodly
  branch of rosemary, which stands for constancy. The cup was hung
  about with silken ribbands of all colours. Musicians followed, then
  a group of maidens, some bearing bride-cakes, others garlands of
  wheat finely gilded; and thus they passed on to the church.”

The wedding customs were very pretty. The bride, like all unmarried
women, wore a dress which exposed a portion of her bosom—you may
see how far the exposure went by looking at any portrait of Queen
Elizabeth; she wore her hair flowing. Some girls married very early,
even at fifteen, which was considered quite old enough to undertake the
duties of a wife. On the way to and from the church, wheat was thrown
on the head of the bride, just as rice is thrown now, as a symbol of
fruitfulness to follow. The wedding guests wore scarves, gloves, and
favours; cake—the bride-cake—was taken to the Church and distributed
after the ceremony; brooches were also given to the young men and
maidens present. Then the cup of wine was sent round: the “knitting”
cup, or the “contracting” cup; and then, carrying in her hand a piece
of gilt rosemary, the bride led the way home, where, for three days,
festivities, masques, mumming, music, dancing, feasting, and drinking
were carried on. In some of the churches special pews were provided
for newly married couples, who sat in them and listened, while the
preacher discoursed on “The Bride’s Bush” or “The Wedding Garment
Beautified.”

In 1584 the Puritans got in a Bill permitting to marry at all seasons
and on every day of the year. It had been the endeavour of the Bishops
to keep Lent as a season in which there was to be no marrying or giving
in marriage. Meantime, the keeping of Lent remained, if only as an
outward sign of revolt against the Puritans.

When there was a christening it was conducted in the mother’s bedroom.
After the service, the sponsors presented “Postle Spoons”; then, of
course, they sat down to a solid feast, or, at least, a drink—nothing
could be done without a drink; comfits were handed round with the wine,
and it was not unusual for some of the guests to go away royally drunk.

[Illustration: THE CHRISTENING OF PRINCE ARTHUR

From a historical print in the British Museum.]

An example of a marriage feast is that of one Coke, citizen, with the
daughter of Mr. Nicolls, Master of London Bridge. My Lord Mayor and
all the Aldermen, with many ladies and other worshipful men and women,
were present at the wedding. Mr. Bacon, an eminent divine, preached
the wedding sermon. After the discourse the company went home to the
Bridge House to dinner, where was as good cheer as ever was known—Stow
says so, and he knew very well—with all manner of music and dancing,
and at night a masque till midnight. But this was only half the feast,
for next day the wedding was again kept at the Bridge House with great
cheer. After supper more mumming, after that more masques. One was in
cloth of gold, the next consisted of friars, and the third of nuns.
First the friars and the nuns danced separately, one company after the
other, and then they danced together.

At a funeral the mourners first assembled at the house where lay
the coffin. Here the clergyman made a speech on the virtues of the
deceased. On the coffin stood a jug or pot of wine which was passed
round as a loving-cup. Then every one laid branches on the coffin;
money was given to the children; to the mourners ribbons, scarves, and
gloves were distributed; rosemary was laid in the coffin and placed
in the mourners’ hats; as for what followed, we may take the funerals
described by Machyn. First, the Company to which the deceased belonged,
attended in their livery; the Company of Clerks attended the funerals
of the better class and sang over the grave; black gowns were given
to as many poor men and poor women as the condition of the deceased
permitted. When a great citizen died, like Master Husee, “squire and
a grett marchand ventorer and of Muskovia and haberdasher,” he was
followed by a hundred mourners; he had five pennons of arms, and a
“cotte armur,” and “two heralds of arms, Master Clarenshux and Master
Somerset.” He was attended by the Choir of St. Paul’s and by the
Company of Clerks; they buried him at St. Martin’s, Ludgate Hill; the
church was hung with black and with escutcheons of arms; the Reader of
St. Paul’s preached “both days.”

[Illustration: The order and maner of burying in the Fields such as
dyed in prison, and namely, of William Wiseman.]

Master Flammock, grocer, who died in 1560, was apparently a Puritan.
Many gowns were bestowed by his executors; he was taken to the church
without singing or clerks, and was buried with a psalm, “after
Genevay,” and a sermon.

Lady Dobbes, the wife of Sir Richard Dobbes, was buried with a pennon
of armes and four dozen and five escutcheons; many black gowns were
given. “Master Recherdson mad the sermon, and the clarkes syngyng and a
dolle of money of xx nobulles, and a grete dinner after and the compane
of the Skynners in ther leverey.”

Master Hulson, scrivener, was one of the Masters in Bridewell; so the
Masters of Bridewell attended his funeral with green staves in their
hands, and all their children, “and there was great syngyng as ever was
heard.” And when we have added that after most of these notes occur
this passage, “And all dune to the place, fir there was a great dener,”
we have said all that need be said about a civic funeral.

One detail is not mentioned by Machyn. This is the custom observed till
quite recently in Yorkshire, of hanging a garland or wreath of ribbons
in the chancel of a church when a girl died unmarried. This custom had
many forms, one or other of which was certainly observed in London. It
was considered unlucky to carry away a piece of ribbon; if the wreath
dropped to pieces, all the pieces were buried in the churchyard.

Persons of distinction continued to be buried within the walls of the
church.

Some Companies and some parish churches still preserve funeral palls
which have been presented to them at various times for the use of the
members and parishioners. Thus, in May 1848, Mr. William Wansey, Prime
Warden of the Fishmongers’ Company, exhibited a funeral pall of most
beautiful and elaborate workmanship, formed of cloth of gold richly
embroidered.

  “This interesting relic has been preserved in the possession of the
  Fishmongers’ Company, having doubtless been originally used at the
  interments of its more distinguished members. No account of the
  acquisition of this fine specimen of decoration, or of the precise
  period when it was executed, has been preserved, and the earlier
  records of the Company were destroyed in the fire of London; its
  date may be attributed to the earlier part of the sixteenth, or
  the close of the previous century. The designs which decorate the
  head and foot of the pall are precisely similar, and the two sides
  likewise correspond exactly in design. On the former is presented
  St. Peter, the patron of fishermen, receiving from the Saviour
  the keys of heaven and hell; the embroideries on the two sides
  represent St. Peter enthroned, crowned with the tiara, with angels
  kneeling one on either side, throwing their censers towards him. On
  each side of this subject is introduced an escutcheon of the arms
  of the Company, with supporters. Nothing can exceed the delicacy
  of execution displayed in this remarkable specimen of needle-work:
  the countenances are full of expression, and the colours are
  generally remarkable for freshness and brilliancy. Another funeral
  pall of great beauty is in the possession of the Saddlers’ Company,
  and has been accurately represented in Mr. Shaw’s _Dresses and
  Decorations_.” (_Archæologia_, xxxi.)




                              CHAPTER IV

                               SOLDIERS


[Illustration: SOLDIERS OF THE PERIOD

From Meyrick’s _Inquiry into Antient Armour_.]

“By an Act of Parliament, 27 Henry II., 1181, called ‘An Assize
of Arms,’ confirmed and enlarged by 13 Edward I., 1285, every
man, according to his estate and degree, was obliged to provide a
determinate quantity of such arms and armour as were then in use.[11]
Constables were provided to see that their arms were correct, and
proper persons, at stated periods, were appointed to _muster and train_
them.

Every Freeman that had in chattels or rent to the value of sixteen
marks was to have a coat of mail (_loricam_), a helmet (_cassidem_),
a shield, and a lance; and so in proportion to his wealth. Another
Assize of Arms was passed 36 Henry III., 1252, and in 1285 the Statute
of Winchester. These made some alterations in the qualification and
in the weapon. By 27 Edward I., 1298, armed horses were ordered to be
provided. The Statute of 4 and 5 Philip and Mary, c. 3, 1537, changed
the weapons for those of more modern construction. It also provided
that all persons having an estate valued at £1000 or more should,
after the 1st of May 1558, keep six horses and ten light horses,
with furniture, etc. By the 33 Henry VIII., c. 5, Commissioners were
appointed to see that the inhabitants of cities and boroughs were
properly provided with arms, etc. Thus cities, according to their
wealth or position, were obliged to have ready so many trained men.
In 1335 the City of London provided twenty-five men in arms and 500
archers for the war against France. In 1360, 1400 to serve in France.
Henry VIII. called upon the City to supply him with 1500 men in July
1545. The French threatening the Isle of Wight, on the 4th of August
1545, the citizens sent 1000 soldiers to Dover. In 1557 Queen Mary
caused a levy to be made of 1000 horsemen, 4000 footmen, and 2000
pioneers, to assist Philip of Spain against the King of France. In
1558 another was made to protect Calais; and in 1560 another to assist
the Queen’s Troops against the French, who were besieging Leith,
in Scotland. In 1562 a large number were sent to serve at Havre de
Grace. Orders were received from the Council in 1578 to keep 2000 men
in readiness. The Lord Mayor, in 1580, issued a precept assessing
the Companies for providing and furnishing 1000 men. The Stationers’
Company had to provide twenty men, thirteen shot, and seven pikemen.
The cost of their provision, furnishing, and training was £20:10:4; and
for powder and other charges, £11:3s. In 1585, 4000 men, with armour,
ensigns, drums, fifes, and other furniture for the wars, the greater
part being shot, mustered at Mile End, 14th April, and were reviewed
by Queen Elizabeth, 18th May. In 1596 the City twice raised, in less
than twelve hours, 1000 men, completely armed, for the relief of the
French, besieged by the Spaniards, in Calais. In 1589, 1000 men were
provided, fully equipped, to assist in placing Henry of Navarre on the
French throne. In 1600, 500 men for service in Ireland. In 1624, 2000
for the Low Countries. In 1638–40, 200 men in all, for service against
the Scots.”

There was an ancient and time-honoured march, known as the “old English
march,” which fell into disuse some time before the accession of
Charles the First, when Sir Edward Cecil, Lord Wimbledon, persuaded
the King to issue a warrant, ordering it to be revived. The point
raised is extremely interesting. The Warrant runs thus—it is dated 7th
Feb. 1632:—“Whereas the ancient custome of Nations hath ever bene to
use one certaine and constant forme of march in the warres, whereby
to be distinguished one from another: and whereas the march of this
our English Nation, so famous in all honourable achievements and
glorious warres of this our Kingdome in forraigne parts (being, by the
approbation of Strangers themselves, confessed and acknowledged the
best of all Marches) was, through the negligence and carelessness of
drummers, and by long discontinuance, so altered and changed from the
ancient gravitie and majestie thereof, as it was in danger utterly to
have bene lost and forgotten. It pleased our late deare brother prince
Henry to revive and rectifie the same, by ordayning an establishment
of one certaine Measure which was beaten in his presence at Greenwich,
anno 1610. In confirmation whereof, wee are graciously pleased, at the
instance and humble sute of our right trusty, etc., Edward, Viscount
Wimbledon, etc., to set down and ordaine this present establishment
hereunder expressed. Willing and commanding all drummers within our
Kingdome of England and principalitie of Wales exactly and precisely to
observe the same as well in this our Kingdome as abroad in the service
of any forraigne prince or state without any addition or alteration
whatsoever. To the end that so ancient, famous, and commendable a
custome may be preserved as a patterne and precedent to all posteritie.”

[Illustration: YEOMAN OF THE GUARD, TIME OF HENRY VIII.

E. Gardner’s Collection.]

About the time of Henry the Seventh we first find mention made of coat-
and conduct-money, a clothing allowance and subsistence for men on
joining the army, which was sometimes advanced by the counties where
the men were raised, to be afterwards repaid by the Government. These
charges varied according to the times. In 1492 the conduct-money was
calculated at the rate of 6d. for every twenty miles each soldier
should march, to be reckoned from his residence to the place of joining
the army; each soldier to swear to the number of the miles marched by
him. In 1574 it was fixed at a halfpenny per mile. In 1627, coat-money
to have been settled at 12s. 6d., and conduct-money at 8d. per diem,
accounting twelve miles for a day’s march. In 1640 it was 8d. per diem,
but the day’s march was not less than fifteen miles.

In dress and weapons armour had not yet disappeared, but it was much
less cumbrous. The corselet, with a morion, or open head-piece, and
thigh guards were still in general use; but plates of armour were
frequently fastened to any ordinary tunic for the defence of the
shoulders, arms, and chest. The pike-men, with their twenty-foot
pikes, wore corselets, and were much disinclined to march more than
five or six miles a day, owing to the weight of their dresses and
weapons. The bill-men were in lighter armour, and their weapons were
shorter than the pike, but very effective against cavalry. The bill
was a hook-shaped blade fastened to a wooden staff, with a projecting
prong at the end and back. Pike-men and bill-men were employed in
protecting archers from cavalry and in covering such field-guns as
were in use. Civic guards and watchmen were armed with bills. The
archers wore a buff-padded jacket, with sometimes an under-shirt of
light chain-armour. A jerkin, of leather or cloth, was indiscriminately
worn by all ranks. The firearms were of two kinds, leaving out of view
artillery. The first could be fired with a rest, and the second were
practically very light artillery. The harquebus and the small petronel
belonged to the first class, and the culverin, the long petronel, and
the muschite (from the French mosquet, a hawk) to the second. Two
men were required to handle the weapons of the second class. They
had long barrels. They were fired with a match, the barrels resting
on an iron fork sticking in the ground. The harquebus was originally
a musket-stock with a bow fixed to it; but the term was now used to
mean the long-barrelled hand-gun with a touch hole and priming pan and
trigger on the right side, which was rapidly driving out other weapons
and rendering armour useless.

[Illustration: A KNIGHT IN ARMOUR

From Meyrick’s _Inquiry into Antient Armour_.]

[Illustration: PIKEMAN

From Grose’s _Military Antiquities_.]

Musters of the citizens were frequent in the reign of Henry the Eighth
and Queen Elizabeth.[12] A history of the muster of the citizens on the
8th of May 1539, the 31st of Henry the Eighth, is given at length in
the _Records of the Corporation_, Journal 14, folio 166. “They marched
from Mile end to Whitehall, and from thence to Leadenhall, Sir Wm.
Forman, Knt., Lord Mayor was in bright harness, whereof the curass, the
maynsers, gaunteletts and other parts were gilt upon the crests and
bordures, and with that he had a coat of black velvet with a rich cross
embroidered, and a great massy chain of gold about his neck, and on his
head a cap of black velvet with a rich jewel, he had a goodly jennett
richly trapped, with embroidery of gold set upon crimson velvet. About
him attended 4 foot men, all apparelled in white satin hose and all
puffed over with white sarcenet.” In 1559, July 2 and 3, according to
_Stow’s Chronicle_, edit. 1615, p. 639, “the Citizens mustered before
Queen Elizabeth in Greenwich Park, 1400 men being present; 800 pikemen
in fine corselets; 400 harquebuts in shirts of maile, with morins; and
200 halberters in Alman rivets.” A large number of the citizens were
also present. The price of armour at this date, as given in several
records, was for “a Corslett, 30s.; Harquebus complete, 8s.; a Murrion,
6s. 8d.; Almaine rivette, 10s.; a musket, flask, touch-box and tassels,
17s. 6d.; Gunpowder, 12d. per pound.”

Here, for instance (_Archæologia_, vol. xxxii. p. 32), is an account of
a muster before Henry the Eighth.

“Than the sayd lorde mayor and hys brethren assemblyd thym selffs
ageyn, and after longe consultac’on, they fyrst determyned, that
no alyen, although he were a denyzen, shuld mustre, but onely mere
Englysshmen; ffurther they thought yt not convenyent that all the hole
number of Englysshmen shulde mustre and goo owte of the cytye for
especyall consyderac’ons; nor that suche as had jakks, brygandynes,
or cotes of fence, shulde goo yn the mustre, but onely they appoynted
syche whiche were hable p’sones, & hadde whyte harnes with whyte
cotes, bowes, arrowes, halberds, bills or polaxes; and none other
except soche as bare moryse pykes or handgonnes, whiche onely hadde
plents and sculls, with whyte cotes and whyte cappes with fethers;
and all thys company was comaunded to be yn whyte hose and clenly
shodde. Whan yt was knowen that the Kyng hymselff wolde se the Mustre,
to se howe gladly ev’y man p’pared hym, what desyre ev’y man had
to do hys prince s’rvice yt was a joyfull syght to beholde of ev’y
Inglysshman. Than ev’y man of substance provyded hymself a cote of
sylke, & garnished theyre bassenetts with turbes of sylke sett with
broches, ouches and fethers; some had theyre harnes and polaxes
gylted, some had theyr breastplates cov’yd with sylvr bullyon—ev’y man
devysed to doo hys best to s’ve hys prynce and of thys sorte the most
parte had chaynes of golde. The meaner sorte were yn cotes of white
cotton, clenly hosed and shodde with the armes of the cytye before &
behynde. The constables were all yn jouetts of whyte sylke over theyre
harnes, with battayl axes gylt, & chaynes abowte theyre necks. The
sayd lorde mayor, aldermen, recorder, shryves, & such as hadde bene
shryeves, were yn whyte harnes, & o’vr that cotes of black velvet,
with the armes of the cytye rychely pyrled and embroderyd upon the
same, with great chaynes of golde about theyre necks, mountyd on good
horsses well styrryng & rychely trapped, with battell axes yn theyre
handes, & cappes of velvett yn theyre heddes; and ev’y alderman had
iiij halberdars yn whyte sylke or buffe cotes attendyng on thej, with
gylt halbards, and the mayer had xvj apparrellyd as you shall here
hereafter; all theys were captayns of the bataylls, as you shall
p’ceyve yn theyre settyng forward. The chamberlayn and councellors
of the cytye, & the aldermens deputyes whiche were assigned to be
wyffelers on horsebacke, were all yn cotes of whyte damask over theyr
harnes, mountyd on good horsses, well trappyd, with great chaynes
abowte theyre necks, and propre javilyns or battle axes yn theyre
handes, with cappes of velvett on theyre heddes with ryche ouches. The
wyffelers on fote were iiij C. propre lyght p’sones app’ellyd yn whyte
sylke or buffe jerkyns, without harnes, or whyte hose and whyte shoes,
every man havyng a slaugh sworde or a javelyn to kepe the people yn
araye, with chaynes abowte theyre necks and fethers yn theyre cappes.
The mynstrells also were all yn whyte, and so were the standard berers,
which were the tallyst men yn ev’y warde, all app’ellyd yn sylke, for
whome were made XXX newe standards with the devyses of the Cytye.... To
see howe full of lordes, ladyes, and gentilwomen the wyndowes yn every
strete were, and howe the strets of the cytye were replenysshed with
people, many men wolde have thought that they that musteryd had rather
byn straungers than cytezens, consydering that the stretes everywhere
were so full of people, whiche was to straungers a great mervell. To
reporte what good order the cytezens kept yn passing forward; what
payne the wyffelers bothe on horseback & fote tooke yn keepyng the
soulders yn araye; howe ryche the juells, chaynes, and app’ell were;
how many goodly, talle, & comley men were there, & the nombre of
the same, my wytt ys insuffycyent to exp’sse or my penne to write.
Wherfore, I remytt theys poynts to theym that sawe and nombret them,
and desyeryng them to remember the nombre that passed yn the muster,
and not to forget yn theyr accompt theym that taryed at home or stode
yn the stretes, for the one without the other sheweth not the hole
puyssance of the cytye. But, whatsoever was doon and what payne so ever
was takyn, all was to the cytezens a great gladness.”

[Illustration: MUSKETEER

From Grose’s _Military Antiquities_.]

It will thus be seen that military array had arrived at a new and
quite another kind of splendour. Armour had not gone out, but it was
less cumbrous, and people believed less in its value. It availed to a
certain extent against sword and pike, but not at all against bullet.
The pikemen who carried pikes eighteen or twenty feet in length wore a
breastplate; the billmen had lighter armour, their weapon was a hook or
a staff. Both pikemen and billmen were employed in covering field-guns
against cavalry. Watchmen also carried bills. The firearms were the
harquebus or arquebus; the small petronel; the culverin; the long
petronel and the musket. The larger kinds were fired with the barrel
resting on a fork stuck in the ground. Swords and daggers were, of
course, carried, and gentlemen wore expensive chain and plate armour.

Henry VIII. had a wonderful suit of armour made in Germany. It was
engraved with illustrations from the lives of martyrs and saints, some
of which are reproduced on p. 382, from the illustrations given in
_Archæologia_.




                               CHAPTER V

                             THE ’PRENTICE


This chapter is inserted in the Tudor period because the ’Prentice in
that century arrived at the height of his power and importance, chiefly
as a disturber of the peace. The following pages sum up the regulations
on the subject from the fifteenth to the eighteenth century, both
inclusive.

The importance of the apprentice system caused many ordinances and
regulations to be passed from time to time. Thus in 1406 no persons
were allowed to put out their children as apprentices who had not
land to the value of 20 shillings a year, a regulation intended, in a
populous town, to keep up the _status_ of trades and crafts. The Act
was, however, found impossible to work, and was repealed in 1429 “to
the great satisfaction of the citizens.” Later on, in 1486, another
attempt was made to restrict the Freedom of the City, and to keep out
“mean and improper” persons by an ordinance that no apprentice should
be taken nor freedom given except to such as were “gentlemen born”—this
is Maitland’s statement—“agreeable to the clause in the oath given
to every freeman at the time he was made free, in these words, ‘Ye
shall take none apprentice but if he be freeborn: that is to say, no
Bondman’s son, nor the son of any alien.’” It does not appear, however,
from the oath, that the freeman was required to be a gentleman unless
every freeborn person is a gentleman. How could a blacksmith or a
journeyman saddler be a gentleman?

In 1527 the Common Council passed a stringent rule as to the treatment
of Apprentices:—

“‘If hereafter any Freeman or Freewoman of this City take any
Apprentice, and within the Term of seven Years suffer the same
Apprentice to go at his large Liberty and Pleasure; and within or
after the said Term agree with his said Apprentice for a certain Sum
of Money, or otherwise, for his said service, and within or after the
End of the said Term, the said Freeman present the said Apprentice to
the Chamberlain of the City, and by good Deliberation, and upon his
Oath made to the same City, the same Freeman or Freewoman assureth and
affirmeth to the said Chamberlain, that the said Apprentice hath fully
served his said Term as Apprentice: Or if any Freeman or Freewoman of
this City take any Apprentice which at the Time of the said taking hath
any Wife: Or, if any Freeman or Freewoman of this City, give any Wages
to his or her Apprentice, or suffer the said Apprentices to take any
Part of their own Getting of Gains: Or if any Freeman or Freewoman of
this City hereafter colour any foreign Goods, or from henceforth buy or
sell for any Person or Persons, or with or to any Person or Persons,
being foreign or Foreigners, Cloths, Silks, Wine, Oils, or any other
Goods or Merchandize, whatsoever they be, whether he take any Thing or
Things for his or their Wages or Labour, or not: Or if any Person or
Persons being Free of this City, by any Colour or deceitful Means, from
henceforth do buy, sell, or receive of any Apprentice within this City,
any Money, Goods, Merchandize, or Wares, without the Assent or Licence
of his Master or Mistress; and upon Examination duly proved before the
Chamberlain of the said City for the Time being, and the same reported
by the Mouth of the said Chamberlain, at a Court to be holden by the
Mayor and the Aldermen of the same City in their Council-Chamber: That
as well the said Master, as the said Apprentice, shall for evermore be
disfranchised. _God save the King!_’” (Maitland, vol. i. pp. 229–230.)

To which was added an admonition to the Apprentices:—

“‘Ye shall constantly and devoutly on your Knees, every Day, serve God,
Morning and Evening, and make Conscience in the due Hearing of the Word
preached, and endeavour the right Practice thereof on your Life and
Conversation. You shall do diligent and faithful Service to your Master
for the Time of your Apprenticeship, and deal truly in what you shall
be trusted. You shall often read over the Covenants of your Indenture,
and see and endeavour yourself to perform the same, to the utmost of
your Power. You shall avoid all evil Company, and all Occasions which
may tend to draw you to the same; and make speedy Return when you shall
be sent of your Masters and Mistresses Business. You shall be of fair,
gentle, and lowly Speech and Behaviour towards all Men, and especially
to all your Governors. And according to your Carriage, expect your
Reward, for Good or Ill, from God and your Friends.’” (Maitland, vol.
i. p. 230.)

The history of “Evil May Day” (p. 24) is an illustration of the growing
turbulence of the ‘Prentices and the relaxation of order and discipline
in the City generally. The wards, in fact, had become too thickly
populated for the old and simple rule of a peripatetic alderman and
his sergeants: the turbulence was a sign of their weakness; yet three
hundred years were to pass before an efficient night and day police
could be established as the only remedy.

In the year 1582 an ordinance concerning the apparel of the ‘Prentice
shows still more clearly that he was getting out of hand. It was
enacted by the Lord Mayor and Common Council:—

“That from henceforth no Apprentice whatsoever should presume: 1. To
wear any Apparel but what he receives from his Master. 2. To wear no
Hat within the City and Liberty thereof, nor any thing instead thereof,
than a Woollen Cap, without any Silk in or about the same. 3. To wear
no Ruffles, Cuffs, loose Collar, nor other thing than a Ruff at the
Collar, and that only of a Yard and a half long. 4. To wear no Doublets
but what were made of canvas, Fustian, Sackcloth, English Leather, or
Woollen Cloth, and without being enriched with any manner of Gold,
Silver, or Silk. 5. To wear no other coloured Cloth, or Kersey, in Hose
or Stockings, than White, Blue, or Russet. 6. To wear little Breeches,
of the same Stuffs as the Doublets, and without being stitched, laced
or bordered. 7. To wear a plain upper Coat of Cloth or Leather, without
Pinking, Stitching, Edging or Silk about it. 8. To wear no other
Surtout than a Cloth Gown or Cloak, lined or faced with Cloth, Cotton
or Bays, with a fixed round Collar, without Stitching, Guarding, Lace
or Silk. 9. To wear no Pumps, Slippers, nor Shoes, but of English
Leather, without being pinked, edged or stitched, nor Girdles nor
Garters, other than of Crewel, Woollen, Thread or Leather, without
being garnished. 10. To wear no Sword, Dagger, or other Weapon, but a
Knife; nor a Ring, Jewel of Gold, nor Silver, nor Silk in any Part of
the Apparel.

It was likewise further enacted, That every Apprentice offending
against any of the above-mentioned items, was for the first offence
to be punished at the discretion of his Master; for the second to be
publicly whipped at the Hall of his Company; and for the third to serve
six months longer than specified in his indentures. And every Master
conniving at the crimes of his Apprentice committed against the tenor
of the premises, should, for every such offence, forfeit to the poor
of the parish wherein he dwelt six shillings and eightpence. It was
also farther ordained, That no Apprentice should frequent, or go to any
dancing, fencing, or musical schools; nor keep any chest, press, or
other place for the keeping of apparel or goods, but in his Master’s
House, under the penalties aforesaid. And every such Master permitting
or allowing his Apprentice to offend in any of the said cases, to
forfeit as in the case of forbidden apparel.” (Maitland, vol. i. p.
267.)

Maitland, after praising this wise ordinance, laments that in his time,
the middle of the eighteenth century, there could not be some such good
law passed to restrain the “more destructive practices of our modern
Apprentices,” viz. keeping mistresses, keeping horses, frequenting
tavern clubs and playhouses, and “their great excesses in clothes,
Linen, periwigs, gold and silver watches, etc.” He does not tell us
where they got the money for these expensive luxuries, but in the
_Confession of Latroun Meriton_ (1650) the way is fully explained: it
was, namely, by robbing their masters. In the year 1595 there were more
troubles caused by the ’Prentices. The Queen ordered sharp measures to
be taken:—

“‘And because such Assemblies and Routs were compounded of sundry Sorts
of base People; some known Apprentices, such as were of base manual
Occupations; some others, wandering idle Persons, of Condition, Rogues,
and Vagabonds; and some colouring their wandering by the Name of
Soldiers returning from the Wars, etc., therefore she had notified her
Pleasure to her Council, to prescribe certain Orders to be published
in and about the said City, which she would have streightly observed;
and, for that Purpose, that she meant to have a Provost-Marshal, with
sufficient Authority to apprehend all such as should not be readily
reformed and corrected by the ordinary Officers of Justice, and them
without Delay to execute upon the Gallows by Order of Martial Law. At
our Manor of Greenwich, the 4th of July, 1595.’” (Maitland, vol. i. pp.
278–279.)

Sir Thomas Welford, accordingly, was appointed Provost-Marshal. He
patrolled the streets with a number of horsemen armed with pistols: he
arrested many of the rioters, who were tried at the Guildhall. Five of
them were executed on Tower Hill, and the rioting ceased.

Of the Apprentices’ riot against the Spanish Ambassador in 1641 we have
heard in another place (_London in the Time of the Stuarts_, p. 38).
The Lord Mayor had a good deal of trouble in appeasing the Ambassador,
who said that he “hardly knew how to call that a City or even a Society
of rational creatures which was seemingly divested both of Humanity and
Government.”

At the outbreak of Civil War the ’Prentices were on the side of the
Parliament and enjoyed many opportunities of demonstrating their
views and opinions, not only without reproach, but rather with the
approbation of the Parliamentary party, the leaders of which encouraged
the young fellows to enlist in their army, as, for example, by the
following Proclamation:—

“‘Whereas in Times of common Danger and Necessity the Interests of
private Persons ought to give way to publick, it is ordained and
declared by the Lords and Commons in Parliament, That such Apprentices
as have been, or shall be listed to serve as Soldiers, for the Defence
of the Religion and Liberty of the Kingdom, his Majesty’s Royal Person,
the Parliament, and the City of London, their Sureties, and such as
stand engaged for them, shall be secured against their Masters, their
Executors, and Administrators, from all Loss and Inconvenience by
Forfeiture of Bonds, Covenants, Infranchisement, or other Ways: And
that, after this publick Service ended, the Masters of such Apprentices
shall be commanded and required to receive them again into their
Service, without imposing upon them any Punishment, Loss, or Prejudice,
for their Absence in the Defence of the Commonwealth.

‘And the Lords and Commons do further declare, That if it shall appear,
that the Masters of such Apprentices have received any considerable
Loss by the Absence of their Apprentices, they will take Care that
reasonable Satisfaction be made unto them out of the publick Stock of
the Kingdom, according to Justice and Indifferency.’” (Maitland, vol.
i. p. 361.)

In 1647 two Petitions of the “Young men and apprentices” were drawn
up and presented to the House of Lords by the two factions in the
City, that in the interest of the King being signed by 10,000 hands,
instigated, says Maitland, by their masters.

The action and attitude of the City on this occasion belong to its
general history.

The custom and practice as concerns apprentices in the eighteenth
century are laid down by Strype in his account of the duties and rules
of the Chamberlain’s Court.

“Before him, the said Chamberlain, all Apprentices are enrolled, and
made free; insomuch that none can set up Shop, or follow a Trade
within the City or Liberties, if not a Freeman, and sworn before him;
neither can any one turn over an Apprentice, but by his License. To
him all Complaints are brought for Differences betwixt Apprentices
and their Masters, who reconciles their Differences, and may punish,
by Imprisonment, those that disobey his Summons, or any Apprentice
that misdemeans himself to his Master or Mistress; but, upon the
Apprentice’s acknowledging his Fault, and begging Pardon, with Promise
never to offend any more, his Fault is forgiven.

Such Apprentices as have justly served their Term of seven Years, and
not broken their Indentures by Marrying, etc., are made free.

Upon the Admission of every Person into the Freedom of this City, the
Chamberlain causeth an Oath to be administered unto him, to be true to
the King, the Government, and observe and keep the Customs of the City;
which said Oath hath been mentioned before, Chap. XXIII.

If any Master shall refuse to make his Apprentice free, when the Term
of his Indenture is expired, upon Complaint made to the Chamberlain,
he will cause such Master to be summoned before him, and if he cannot
shew good Cause to the Contrary, will make the Apprentice free. And
if an Apprentice shall be unruly or disorderly in his Master’s House,
or commit any notorious Fault, upon Complaint made thereof, the
Chamberlain will send one of his Officers for such Apprentice, and send
him to Bridewell, or otherwise punish him according to the Nature of
the Offence.

If any Master shall misuse his Apprentice, by unreasonable Beating,
not allowing him Necessaries, or by neglecting to instruct him, or the
like, upon Complaint thereof made, the Chamberlain will send a Summons
for the Master to appear before him; and upon due Hearing both Parties,
will relieve the Apprentice, if his Allegations be proved to be just,
or else leave the Apprentice to take his remedy against his Master in
the Lord Mayor’s Court. And if the Master refuse to appear according
to his Summons, the Lord Mayor and Recorder, upon Complaint thereof
made unto them, will grant a Warrant to take him, and compel him to
appear.

When an Apprentice, by the Consent of his Master, is to be turned
over to another Master of the same trade, it must be done before the
Chamberlain. And it is observed, that, if an Apprentice be turned over
by the Company only of which the Master is free, it is no Obligation
on the second Master to keep such an Apprentice; nor is the Apprentice
compelled thereby to serve the second Master, but may depart at
Pleasure, by suing out his Indentures against the first Master. Which
may be done without the Privity or Knowledge of the second Master. And,
therefore, it is absolutely necessary, that all Apprentices should
be turned over before the Chamberlain. And thereby the first Master
is discharged from him, and the second obliged to keep him; and the
Apprentice will be obliged to serve the second Master, the full Term of
his Indentures, although the same were made for nine Years, or more.
It is the Interest of every Master and Apprentice, when any Difference
happens between them, to refer the Matter to the Chamberlain; who will
freely hear both Parties, and decide the Controversy, for 3s. Charge,
viz. 1s. to the Officer for the Summons, and 2s. to the Clerk for the
Order: Whereas, if they proceed at Law for Relief, it may probably cost
both Parties six Pounds, or more, in Charges; and the Conclusion may be
less satisfactory, than if decided by the Chamberlain.

      THE FEES DUE TO THE CITY FOR MAKING FREE, AND THE ENROLLING
                             APPRENTICES.

  An Apprentice made free, and not enrolled, the Master pays  00  13   2
  The Apprentice pays                                         00  02  00
  If turned over before the Chamberlain, the Master or
      Mistress must pay extraordinary                         00  02  00

  And, by Virtue of the late Act for Orphans, over and  above
      these usual Fees,
  An Apprentice, when bound, must pay                         00  02  06
  And when admitted a Freeman                                 00  05  00

If an Apprentice shall omit to take his Freedom, within convenient Time
after the Expiration of his Indentures, the Chamberlain may impose upon
the Apprentice such a Fine, in Reason, as he shall think fit, for this
Neglect, without just Cause to the Contrary.

Every Freeman ought to take particular Care not to make an Apprentice
free of London, by testifying for his true Service, unless such
Apprentice shall have really served him. For, if he shall privately
turn his Apprentice over to a Foreigner, and let his Apprentice
serve such a Foreigner, and yet testify to the Chamberlain, that the
Apprentice served a Freeman; in such Case, both the Master and the
Apprentice may be disfranchised, and fined at the Discretion of the
Recorder, and the Chamberlain, and may cause the Freeman’s Shop to be
shut up.” (Strype, vol. ii. pp. 475–476.)

As regards the ancient costume of an Apprentice, I again quote Stow and
Strype:—

“The ancient Habit of the Apprentices of London was a flat round Cap,
Hair close cut, narrow falling Bands, coarse side Coats, close Hose,
Cloth Stockings, and other such severe Apparel. When this Garb had
been urged by some to the Disparagement of Apprentices, as a Token
of Servitude, one, many a Year ago, undertaking the Defence of these
Apprentices, wrote thus, that this imported the commendable Thrift of
the Citizens, and was only the Mark of an Apprentice’s Vocation and
Calling (and which anciently, no Question, was the ordinary Habit of a
Citizen), which Point of ancient Discipline, he said, the grave common
Lawyers do still retain in their Profession; for the Professors of
that Learning, we see, do at this Present retain the party-coloured
Coats of Serving-men at their Serjeants’ Feasts; and he wished, that
the Remembrance of this ancient Livery might be preserved by the grave
Citizens, in setting apart a particular Time or Day for the Feast of
their Apprenticeship, when they should wear their former Apprentice’s
Garb; making Profession in this Way, that they gloried in the Ensigns
of their honest Apprenticeship.

In the Time of Queen Mary, the Beginning of Queen Elizabeth, as well
as many Years before, all Apprentices wore blue Clokes in the Summer,
and blue Gowns in the Winter. But it was not lawful for any Man, either
Servant or other, to wear their Gowns lower than the Calves of their
Legs, except they were above threescore Years of Age; but, the Length
of Clokes being not limited, they made them down to their shoes. Their
Breeches and Stockings were usually of white broad Cloth, viz. round
Slops, and their Stockings sewed up close thereto, as if they were all
but one Piece. They also wore flat Caps both then and many Years after,
as well Apprentices as Journey-men and others, both at Home and Abroad;
whom the Pages of the Court in Derision called Flat-Caps.

When Apprentices and Journeymen attended upon their Masters and
Mistresses in the Night they went before them carrying a Lanthorn and
Candle in their hands, and a great long Club on their Necks; and many
well-grown sturdy Apprentices used to wear long Daggers in the Day-Time
on their Backs or Sides.

Anciently it was the general Use and Custom of all Apprentices in
London (Mercers only excepted, being commonly Merchants, and of better
Rank, as it seems,) to carry Water Tankards, to serve their Masters’
Houses with Water, fetched either from the Thames, or the common
Conduits of London.

It was a great matter, in former Times, to give 10£ to bind a youth
Apprentice; but, in King James the First’s Time, they gave 20, 40, 60
and sometimes 100£ with an Apprentice; but now these prices are vastly
enhanced, to 500, 600, or 800£.” (Strype, vol. ii.)

The question in 1628 arose, and was solemnly argued, whether an
Apprentice, who is certainly bound to obedience, who must perform
servile offices, who is corrected by his master, clothed by his
master, and fed by his master, is or is not in a state of bondage or a
bondsman. The question was resolved by Philipot, Somerset Herald, to
the effect that he could not be considered a bondsman. The reason we
may pass over. But Strype’s remarks are interesting:—

“So that Apprenticeship in London is no Dishonour, nor Degradation;
but rather an Honour, and a Degree. He is very hardy that shall embase
honest Industry with disgraceful Censures, and too unjust, who shall
not cherish and encourage it with Praise and Worship, as the ancient
Policy of England did and doth, in constituting Corporations, and
adorning the Companies with Banners of Arms, and especial Members
thereof with Notes of Nobility. And, as it is an Honour, so it is a
Degree, or Order of good regular Subjects; out of whose, as it were,
Noviceship or Colleges, Citizens are supplied from Time to Time.
We call them Colleges, according to the old Roman Law Phrase, or
Fellowships of Men. For so indeed they are, comprehended within several
Corporations, or Bodies of free Persons, intended to be consociated
together for commerce, according to Conscience and Justice, and
named Companies. So that Apprentices, according to the Esteem of our
Commonwealth, when first they come to be Apprentices, first begin to
be Somebody, who before were young Men without any Vocation in the
World. And so by other Ascents or steps come to be Freemen of London,
or Citizens; thence to be of their Companies Liveries, Governors of
Companies, as Wardens and Masters; and Governors in the City, as
Common-Council-Men, Aldermen’s Deputies, Sheriffs, and Aldermen; and,
lastly, the principal Governors, or Heads of the City, that is, Lord
Mayors. And some also have been advanced, from being Citizens, to be
Counsellors of State to the Prince.

It is further evident, that Apprenticeship doth not deprive of Gentry;
for no Man loseth his Right to bear Arms, or to write Gentleman, unless
he be attainted in Law for such a Cause; the Conviction whereof doth
immediately procure Corruption in Blood; which in this Case no Man yet
hath dreamt of. The Apprentice hath no more lost his Title and Right
to Gentry, than he hath done to any Goods, Chattels, Lands, Royalties,
or any Thing else, which, if he had never been any Apprentice, either
had, might, or ought to have come unto him. The Rights of Blood are
more inherent than the Rights of Fortune, according to the Law Rule,
_Jura Sanguinum nullo jure civili dirimi possunt_, i.e. The Law of
Bloods cannot be destroyed by any civil Right. That Gentry is a Right
of Blood, may appear by this, that no Man can truly alienate the same,
or vest another in it, tho’ legally he may, in Case of Adoption, which
is but a human Invention, in Imitation of Nature; and, in the Truth of
the Thing, no Alienation at all, but a Fiction, or an Acceptation in
Law, as if it were such. Gentry is a Quality of Blood, as Virtue and
Learning are of one Mind.

This is the Sum of what that learned Herald argued, in Confutation of
that Opinion, that Apprenticeship extinguisheth Gentry. And he sent
this his discourse to the Gentleman who desired his Judgment herein;
whence, no Question, he received full Satisfaction. And the Herald took
the more Pains in confuting this false Conceit, that it was a Thing
unbeseeming a Gentleman to be an Apprentice to a Citizen or Burgess;
because it had filled England with more Vices, and sacrificed more
serviceable Bodies to odious Ends, and more Souls to sinful Lives, than
perhaps any one other uncivil Opinion whatsoever. For they who held
it better to rob by Land or Sea, than to beg or labour, did daily fee
and feel, that out of Apprentices rose such as set upon them, standing
out for lives as Malefactors; when they, a Shame and Sorrow to their
Kindred, underwent a Fortune too unworthy.” (Strype, vol. ii. pp.
435–436.)

Apprentices in certain cases ought to be discharged:—

“One was discharged from his Master, because his Master held no shop,
and withdrew himself from the City. Another, because his Master did not
teach him. Another, because his Master was in Ludgate, and entrusted
him not. Another, because not enrolled within a Year. Another, because
his Master was distracted in his Mind. Another, because his Master was
so poor that he could not exhibit to him. Another, because his Master
diverted himself to other Occupations than his own Mystery. Another,
because the Master was a Leper. Another, because the Wife, after the
Death of her Husband, taught him not. And lastly, another, because his
Master inordinately chastised him.” (Strype, vol. ii. p. 438.)

The decay of order among Apprentices may finish these notes on the
class:—

“I come, in the next place, to treat of Attornies’ Clerks, Apprentices,
inferior Tradesmen, Coachmen, Porters, Servants, and the lowest Class
of Men in this town, which are far the most numerous: And, first, of
the Lawyers’ Clerks and Apprentices, I find it a general Complaint,
that they are under no Manner of Government; before their Times are
half out, they set up for Gentlemen, they dress, they drink, they
game, frequent the Playhouses, and intrigue with the Women; and it is
a common Thing with Clerks to bully their Masters, and desert their
service for whole Days and Nights, whenever they see fit. And indeed
People consider little else at this Day, in the Choice of Clerks or
Apprentices, but the sums they are to have with them; one, two, or
three Hundred Pounds are given with a Clerk or Apprentice, who may be
looked upon rather as a Boarder than a Servant. He takes little Care of
his Master’s Business, and the Master as little to instruct him in the
Mystery of his Profession.” (Strype, vol. ii. p. 559.)




                              CHAPTER VI

                            THE LONDON INNS


The town was full of inns; more especially they were established
without the gates and in the Borough. A great change had come over the
Inns: formerly the inn was a place of lodging; some of them, as the
Inns of Court, Barnard’s Inn, Gray’s Inn, Staple Inn, were colleges
of residence; the business of providing food and drink belonged to
the tavern and the cook’s shop. We have now come to the time when the
inn itself provided food. Fortunately, there remain two very useful
descriptions of the Inns of this time. One of them is by Harrison in
Holinshed, and the other by Fynes Moryson. First, let us take that of
Harrison:—

“Those townes that we call thorowfaires have great and sumptuous innes
builded in them for the receiving of such travellers and strangers
as passe to and fro. The manner of harbouring wherein, is not like
to that as some other countries, in which the host or goodman of
the house dooth chalenge a lordlie authoritie over his ghests, but
clene otherwise, sith everie man may use his inne as his owne house
in England, and have for his monie how great or little varietie of
vittels, and what other service himselfe shall thinke expedient to call
for. Our innes are also verie well furnished with naperie, bedding,
and tapisserie, especiallie with naperie: for beside the linen used at
the tables, which is commonlie washed dailie, is such and so much as
belongeth unto the estate and calling of the ghest. Ech commer is sure
to lie in cleane sheets, wherein no man hath beene lodged since they
came from the landresse, or out of the water wherein they were last
washed. If the traveller have an horsse, his bed doth cost him nothing,
but if he go on foot he is sure to pay a penie for the same: but
whether he be horseman or footman if his chamber be once appointed he
may carie the kaie with him, as of his own house so long as he lodgeth
there. If he loose oughts whilst he abideth in the inne, the host is
bound by a generall custome to restore the damage, so that there is no
greater security anie where for travellers than in the gretest ins of
England. Their horses in like sort are walked, dressed, and looked unto
by certeine hostelers or hired servants, appointed at the charges of
the good man of the house, who in hope of extraordinary reward will
deal verie diligently after outward appeerance in this their function
and calling. Herein neverthelesse are manie of them blameworthie, in
that they doo not onlie deceive the beast oftentimes of his allowance
of sundrie meanes, except their owners look well to them; but also make
such packs with slipper merchants which hunt after preie (for what
place is sure from evill and wicked persons) that manie an honest man
is spoiled of his goods as he travelleth to and fro, in which fear also
the counsell of the tapsters or drawers of drinke, and chamberleins
is not seldom behind or wanting. Certes I beleeve not that chapman or
traveller in England is robbed by the waie without the knowledge of
some of them, for when he commeth into the inne, and alighteth from his
horse, the hostler forthwith is verie busie to take downe his budget
or capcase in the yard from his sadle bow, which he peiseth slilie in
his hand to feel the weight thereof: or he miss of this pitch when the
ghest hath taken up his chamber, the chamberleine that looketh to the
making of the beds, will be sure to remove it from the place where the
owner hath set it as if it were to set it more conveniently somewhere
else, whereby he getteth an inkling whether it be monie or other short
wares and thereof giveth warning to such ghests as haunt the house and
are of his confederacy to the utter undoing of manie an honest yeoman
as he journieth by the waie. The tapster in like sort for his part
dooth marke his behaviour and what plentie of money he draweth when he
paieth the shot, to the like end; so that it shall be an hard matter
to escape all their subtil practises. Some thinke it a gay matter to
commit their budgets at their coming to the goodman of the house; but
thereby they oft bewraie themselves. For albeit their monie be safe for
the time that it is in his hands (for you shall not hear that a man
is robbed in his inn) yet after their departure the host can make no
warrantise of the same, sith his protection extendeth no further than
the gate of his owne house; and there cannot be a surer token unto such
as prie and watch for those booties, than to see any ghest deliver his
capcase in such maner. In all our innes we have plenty of ale, beere,
and sundrie kinds of wine, and such is the capacitie of some of them
that they are able to lodge two hundred or three hundred persons, and
their horses at ease, and thereto with a very short warning make such
provision for their diet as to him that is unacquainted withall may
seeme to be incredible. Howbeit of all in England there are no worse
ins than in London, and yet manie are there far better than the best
that I have heard of in anie forren countries, if all circumstances
be duly considered. But to leave this and go in hand with my purpose.
I will here set downe a table of the best thorowfaires and townes of
greatest travell in England, in some of which there are twelve or
sixteen such innes at the least, as I before did speak of. And it
is a world to see how ech owner of them contendeth with other for
goodnesse of interteinement of the ghests as about finesse and change
of linen, furniture of bedding, beautie of rooms, service at the table,
costlinesse of plate, strength of drinke, varietie of wines, or well
using of horses. Finallie there is not much omitted among them as the
gorgeousness of their verie signs at their doores wherein some doo
consume thirtie or fortie pounds, a mere vanitie in mine opinion, but
so vaine will they needs be and that not onelie to give some outward
token of the inne keeper’s welth, but also to procure good ghests
to the frequenting of their houses in hope there to be well used.”
(Holinshed’s _Chronicles_.)

Concerning the customs in English Inns, Fynes Moryson thus writes:—

“For as soon as a passenger comes to an Inne, the servants run to
him, and one takes his horse and walks him till he be cold, then
rubs him and gives him meate, yet I must say that they are not much
to be trusted in this last point, without the eye of the Master or
his servant to oversee them. Another servant gives the passenger his
private chamber, and kindles his fier, the third puls of his bootes and
makes them cleane. Then the Host or Hostesse visits him, and if he will
eate with the Hoste, or at a common table with others, his meale will
coste him six pence, or in some places but four pence (yet this course
is lesse honourable and not used by Gentlemen); but if he will eate in
his chamber, he commands what meats he will according to his appetite,
and as much as he thinkes fit for him and his company, yea, the kitchen
is open to him, to command the meat to be dressed as he likes best;
and when he sits at Table, the Host or Hostesse will accompany him, if
they have many Guests, will at least visit him, taking it for courtesie
to be bid sit downe; while he eates, if he have company especially, he
shall be offerd musicke, which he may freely take or refuse, and if he
be solitary the musicians will give him the good day with musicke in
the morning. It is the custom and no way disgraceful to set up part
of sypper for his breakfast. In the evening or in the morning after
breakfast (for the common sort use not to dine, but ride from breakfast
to supper time, yet comming early to the Inn for better resting of
their horses) he shall have a reckoning in writing, and if it seems
unreasonable the Host will satisfy him either for the due price, or by
abating part, especially if the servant deceive him in any way, which
one of experience will soon find. I will now only add that a Gentleman
and his Man shall spend as much as if he were accompanied with another
Gentleman and his Man, and if Gentlemen will in such sorte joyne
together to eate at one table the expenses will be much diminished.
Lastly, a Man cannot more freely command at home in his owne House than
he may doe in his Inne, and at parting if he give some few pence to the
Chamberlin and Ostler they wish him a happy journey.”

And further:—

“In all Innes, but especially in suspected places, let him take heed of
his chamber fellowes, and always have his sword by his side or by his
bedside; let him lay his purse under his pillow, but always folded with
his garters or something hee first useth in the morning, lest he forget
to put it on before he goe out of his chamber. And to the end he may
leave nothing behind him in his Innes, let the visiting of his chamber
and gathering his things together be the last thing he doth before hee
put his foote into the stirrup.”

The list of Elizabethan taverns might be compiled at great length, but
the following signs celebrated in verse will suffice:—

    “Through the Royal Exchange as I walked
      where gallants in sattin did shine:
    At midst of the day they parted away
      at several places to dine.

    The gentry went to the King’s Head,
      the nobles went unto the Crown:
    The knights unto the Golden Fleece
      and the plowman to the Clown.

    The clergy will dine at the Miter,
      the vintners at the Three Tuns:
    The usurers to the Devil will go,
      and the fryers unto the Nuns.

    The ladies will dine at the Feathers,
      the Globe no captain will scorn:
    The huntsmen will go to the Greyhound below,
      and some townsmen to the Horn.

    The plummer will dine at the Fountain,
      the cooks at the Holy Lamb:
    The drunkards at noon to the Man in the Moon
      and the cuckolds to the Ram.

    The rovers will dine at the Lyon,
      the watermen at the Old Swan:
    The bawds will to the Negro go
      and the whores to the Naked Man.

    The keepers will to the White Hart,
      the mariners unto the Ship:
    The beggars they must take their way
      to the Eg-shell and the Whip.

    The farier will to the Horse,
      the blacksmith unto the Lock,
    The butchers to the Bull will go,
      and the carmen to Bridewell-Dock.

    The fishmongers unto the Dolphin,
      the bakers to the Cheat-loaf:
    The Turners unto the Tabel will go
      where they may merrily quaff.

    The taylors will dine at the Sheers,
      the shoo-makers will to the Boot:
    The Welshmen they will take their way
      and dine at the sign of the Goat.

    The hosiers will dine at the Leg,
      and drapers at the sign of the Brush:
    The fletchers to Robin Hood will go,
      and the spendthrift to Beggar’s Bush.

    The pewterers to Quart Pot,
      the coopers will dine at the Hoop:
    The coblers to the Last will go,
      and the bargemen to the Scoop.

    The carpenters will dine at the Axe,
      the colliers will dine at the Sack:
    Your fruiterer he to the Cherry-tree
      good fellows no liquor will lack.

    The goldsmiths to the Three Cups,
      their money they count as dross:
    Your puritan to the Pewter Can,
      and your papist to the Cross.

    The weavers will dine at the Shuttle,
      the glovers will into the Glove:
    The maidens all to the Maidenhead,
      and true lovers unto the Dove.

    The sadlers will dine at the Saddle,
      the painters to the Green Dragon:
    The Dutchman will go to the sign of the Vrow,
      where each man may drink his flagon.

    The chandlers will dine at the Scales,
      the salters at the sign of the Bag:
    The porters take pain at the Labour-in-vain,
      and the horse-courser to the White Nag.

    Thus every man to his humour,
      from the north unto the south:
    But he that hath no money in his purse,
      may dine at the sign of the Mouth.

    The swaggerers will dine at the Fencers:
      but those that have lost their wits,
    With Bedlam Tom let there be their home,
      and the Drum the drummer best hits.

    The cheater will dine at the Chequer,
      the pick-pocket at the Blind Ale-house:
    Till taken and tride, up Holborn they ride,
      and make their end at the gallows.”

In a black-letter poem called “News from Bartholomew Fayre” occurs the
following short list of taverns:—

    “There hath been great sale and utterance of Wine,
    Besides Beere, and Ale, and Ipocras fine,
    In every country, region, and nation,
    But chiefly in Billingsgate at the Salutation;
    And at the Bore’s Head near London Stone;
    The Swan at Dowgate, a tavern well knowne;
    The Miter in Cheape, and then the Bull Head;
    And many like places that make noses red;
    The Bore’s Head in Old Fish Street; Three Cranes in the Vintry;
    And now, of late, St. Martin’s in the Sentree;
    The Windmill in Lothbury; the Ship at th’ Exchange;
    King’s Head in New Fish Street, where roysterers do range;
    The Mermaid in Cornhill; Red Lion in the Strand;
    Three Tuns in Newgate Market; Old Fish Street at the Swan.”

Heywood (1608) writes:—

    “The Gentry to the King’s Head,
    The Nobles to the Crown,
    The Knights unto the Golden Fleece,
    And to the Plough the Clown.
    The churchman to the Mitre
    The shepherd to the Star,
    The gardner hies him to the Rose,
    To the Drum the man of war;
    To the Feathers, ladies you; the Globe
    The seaman doth not scorn;
    The usurer to the Devil, and
    The townsman to the Horn.
    The huntsman to the White Hart,
    To the ship the merchants go,
    But you who do the Muses love,
    The sign called River Po.
    The banquerout to the World’s End,
    The Fool to the Fortune Pie,
    Unto the Mouth the oyster-wife,
    The fiddler to the Pie.
    The punk unto the Cockatrice,
    The Drunkard to the Vine,
    The Beggar to the Bush, then meet,
    And with Duke Humphrey dine.”

It was the custom at Taverns to send presents of wine from one room to
another with compliments.

The taverns were to the sixteenth century what the coffee-houses were
to the eighteenth. Every man frequented his tavern: clubs were held
in the taverns; men of the same trade met in the taverns for evening
discourse; bargains and business affairs were conducted in taverns;
there were good and bad taverns; those like the Boar’s Head, East
Cheap, bore a bad character; that is to say, they were laden down by
the character of Doll Tearsheet; others, again, where Doll and her
friends were not admitted, were frequented by the most respectable
merchants and divines. Music was going on in most of them all day long;
and all day long the waiters, clad in blue and wearing white aprons,
ran about with flasks of wine and cups, and tobacco and pipes, calling
“Anon, Anon!” and stopping to chalk a score upon the wall.

It is strange that Stow mentions neither the Boar’s Head, East Cheap,
which must have been a well-known tavern, or Shakespeare would not have
chosen it for the haunt of the Prince and Falstaff; nor the Mermaid,
the haunt of Ben Jonson and the poets. Presumably the worthy antiquary
would not have felt at home in the company of the wits.

The Boar’s Head stood in that part of East Cheap now swept away. The
statue of King William IV. marks the site. It was not an ancient
tavern. There were no taverns formerly in East Cheap according to Stow;
the first mention of it is in the year 1537. The courtyard was large
enough for the performance of plays; at the back it looked out upon
St. Michael’s churchyard. The churchyard and church of St. Michael
were swept away to make the approach to new London Bridge. Between
St. Michael’s Lane, now Miles’s Lane, and a small alley, stood four
taverns in a row: the Chicken, the Boar’s Head, the Plough, and the
Three Kings. These taverns were thus in the midst of markets: the Grass
Market in front; the Fish Market on the east; the Meat Market on the
west. The tavern was rebuilt after the fire, in 1668: the new sign
then made for it may be seen in the Guildhall Museum; on each side of
the doorway was carved in wood a vine branch, rising three feet from
the ground, loaded with leaves and clusters, and on the top of each a
figure of Falstaff eight inches high. Before its demolition the house
had ceased to be a tavern. Here was held a club of which Boswell was a
member, in which every one assumed a Shakespearian character. It was
the custom to hold convivial meetings in this house. There Falstaff
and Dame Quickly and Doll Tearsheet and the whole merry company became
real. Goldsmith wrote his essay, “A Reverie,” in this tavern, and here
Washington Irving gave full play to his fancy, and restored the things
that never were to the place that never knew Prince Hal.

[Illustration: SIGN OF THE BOAR’S HEAD IN EAST CHEAP]

The Mermaid Tavern stood between Friday Street and Bread Street, with
an entrance from Cheapside as well. The tavern has been immortalised by
a poet of the seventeenth and one of the nineteenth century.

Francis Beaumont, the former, writes to Ben Jonson:—

                      “What things have we seen
    Done at the Mermaid, heard words that have been
    So nimble, and so full of subtle flame,
    As if that every one from whence they came
    Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest,
    And had resolved to live a fool the rest
    Of his dull life; then when there hath been thrown
    Wit able enough to justify the town
    For three days past; wit that might warrant be
    For the whole city to talk foolishly
    Till that were cancelled; and when that was gone,
    We left an air behind us, which alone
    Was able to make the two next companies
    (Right witty, though but downright fools) more wise.”

And Keats, the latter, writes:—

    “Souls of poets dead and gone,
    What Elysium have ye known,
    Happy field or mossy cavern
    Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?
    Have ye tippled drink more fine
    Than mine host’s Canary wine?”

Or, as Fuller says of Shakespeare:—

“Many were the wit-combates betwixt him and Ben Johnson, which two I
behold like a Spanish great gallion, and an English man of War; Master
Johnson (like the former) was built far higher in Learning; Solid, but
Slow in his performances. Shake-spear, with the English man-of-War,
lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack
about and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his Wit and
Invention.”

Lists of old taverns are, as a rule, without interest; there are,
however, a few of the London taverns of historic importance. Two have
been mentioned. Thus, the Nag’s Head, at the corner of Friday Street,
was the pretended scene of the consecration of Parker, Archbishop of
Canterbury in 1559.

At the north-west of St. Paul’s Churchyard was an ancient tavern known
as the Mitre. Here were given the concerts of the Society of Musicians;
and their arms, representing the lyre of Apollo, with the crest of the
Swan, being put up in the front of the house, caused the original sign
to be jocularly transformed into that of the Goose and Gridiron. The
Swan with Three Necks, meant originally the Swan with three “nicks” or
marks to denote ownership. The Belle Savage was originally the Bell,
but its landlord being a man named Savage, the house was emblazoned
with a bell and a savage man beside it. The Elephant and Castle
became the Pig and Tinder Box; the “Caton Fidele”—the Governor of
Calais—became the Cat and Fiddle.

Fleet Street had many well-known taverns: like those in the City they
were mostly approached by narrow alleys leading out of the street, as
the Rainbow, Dick’s, and the Mitre. Dick’s stands on the site of the
printing office of Richard Tottle, law stationer in the reign of Henry
VIII. The Cock, later moved across the road, was one of the most famous
of the Fleet Street taverns.

The “Devil” Tavern, however, was more famous even than the Mermaid.
Ben Jonson drew the company from the latter tavern to the Devil; he
lived at Temple Bar in order to be near the tavern. Here he founded the
Apollo Club and wrote his famous rules in Latin, which were translated
into English by one of his “sons,” Brome. Near the door was placed a
gilt bust of Apollo with a “Welcome” in flowing lines:—

    “Welcome all who lead or follow
    To the oracle of Apollo:
    Here he speaks out of his pottle,
    Or the tripos, his tower bottle;
    All his answers are divine,
    Truth itself doth flow in wine.
    Hang up all the poor hop-drinkers,
    Cries old Sim, the king of skinkers;
    He the life of life abuses
    That sits watering with the Muses.
    Those dull girls no good can mean us;
    Wine—it is the milk of Venus,
    And the poet’s horse accounted:
    Ply it, and you all are mounted.
    ’Tis the true Phœbian liquor,
    Cheers the brains, makes wit the quicker;
    Pays all debts, cures all diseases,
    And at once three senses pleases.
    Welcome all who lead or follow
    To the oracle of Apollo!”

The merchants conducted their business in the Royal Exchange, but the
tavern was the place where the lesser traders, and the shopkeepers, and
the people who came up from the country met, to arrange bargains and
business of all kinds over a flask of Canary.




                              CHAPTER VII

                               THEATRES


The latter half of the sixteenth century presents a remarkable
development of the Drama and of the Theatres in London. This
development was like the rising tide: it advanced with a force that was
irresistible. The Mayor and Aldermen did their best to drive out plays
and players from their boundaries; they went, but they established
themselves beyond the limits of the City jurisdiction. Preachers
denounced the theatre; moralists wrote pamphlets against it; yet it
flourished more and more. John Stockwood, preaching at Paul’s Cross,
says:—

“Have we not houses of purpose, built with great charges for the
maintenance of them, and that without the liberties, as who shall
say, ‘There, let them say what they will, we will play.’ I know not
how I might, with the godly-learned especially, more discommend the
gorgeous playing place erected in the Fields, than term it, as they
please to have it called, a Theatre.” In the same sermon he asks:
“Wyll not a fylthye playe wyth the blast of a trumpette sooner call
thyther a thousande than an houres tolling of a bell bring to the
sermon a hundred? Nay, even heere in the Citie, without it be at this
place and some other certaine ordinarie audience, where shall you
find a reasonable company? Whereas if you resorte to the Theatre, the
Curtayne, and other places of players in the Citie, you shall on the
Lord’s Day have these places, with many other that I cannot reckon, so
full as possible they can throng.”

[Illustration: THE BEAR GARDEN AND THE GLOBE THEATRE

From Visscher’s _Panorama of London_.]

The Londoners might change their religion, but they were not going to
change their sports. They were Protestant instead of Catholic; but they
kept up their bear-baiting, their bull-baiting, their archery, their
wrestlings, their fencing, their quarter-staff play, their running
at the quintain, their feats of tumbling, their Morris dances and
mummings, their plays and interludes. But the Reformation killed the
Miracle Play. The play of modern manners, or the tragedy, or the farce,
took the place of the religious play. And instead of acting on a stage
in a churchyard, the players now began to act in the broad and ample
courtyard of the inn, whose galleries afforded room for people to look
on. The authorities looked on the play from the beginning with eyes of
disfavour: the actor was considered a masterless man; he had no trade;
he was a strolling vagabond; he lived upon the largesse of those who
looked on at his performance; he was a buffoon who would assume any
character at will to make the people laugh and cry; he must be able to
dance and posture like the tumblers on the road. Again, all the idle
people in the City assembled to see the play; all the vicious people
crowded to take advantage of the throng; in the theatre every day arose
disorders and brawls; young men of sober parentage were seduced into
becoming players. Witness the words of Prynne:—

  “Our own experience can sufficiently inform us, that plays and
  playhouses are the frequent causes of many murders, duels,
  quarrels, debates; occasioned sometimes by reason of some
  difference about a box, a seat, a place, upon the stage; sometimes
  by intruding too boldly into some female’s company; sometimes by
  reason of some amorous, scurrilous, or disgraceful words, that are
  uttered of or to some female spectators; sometimes by reason of
  some speeches or passages of the play, particularly applied to some
  persons present or absent; sometimes by reason of some husband, or
  co-rival’s jealousy, or affront, whose wife, or mistress, being
  there in person, is perhaps solicited, abused, or jeared at in his
  presence; sometimes by reason of the apprentices who resort to
  playhouses, especially on Shrove Tuesday; sometimes by means of
  other accidents and occasions. Many have been the murders, more
  the quarrels, the duels, that have grown from our stage-plays,
  whose large encomiums of rash valour, duels, fortitude,
  generosity, impatientcy, homicides, tyranny, and revenge, do so
  exasperate men’s raging passions, and make them so impatient of
  the very smallest injury, that nothing can satisfy, can expiate,
  but the offender’s blood. Hence it is that some players, some
  play-haunters, now living, not satisfied with the murder of one,
  have embrued their barbarous un-christian hands in the blood of
  two, of three, if not of four several men. And so far are they
  from ruing the odiousness of these their bloody deeds, that they
  glory in the number of their murders as the very trophies of their
  valour.”

The Queen at the beginning of her reign issued a proclamation to
prevent players performing without license, and from handling politics
or religion. In 1572 the Mayor forbade the acting of plays in London
on the ground of the Plague and the danger of infection. Harrison says:—

  “Plaies are banished for a time out of London, lest the resort unto
  them should ingender a plague, or rather disperse it, being already
  begonne. Would to God these comon plaies were exiled altogether,
  as seminaries of impiety, and their theatres pulled downe, as no
  better then houses of bawdrie. It is an evident token of a wicked
  time when plaiers waxe so riche that they can build suche houses.
  As moche I wish also to our comon beare-baitings used oin the
  sabaothe daies.” (Holinshed’s _Chronicles_.)

In 1574 the first steps were taken towards the regulation of players
and plays. The preamble to the ordinances is set forth by Maitland,
with the ordinances themselves, as follows:—

“The citizens in Common-Council observing, that the antient and
innocent Recreation of Stage-Plays or Interludes, which in former Days
ingenious Tradesmen and Gentlemen’s Servants sometimes practised, to
expose Vice, or to represent the noble Actions of their Ancestors, at
certain Festival Times, or in private Houses at Weddings, and at other
Splendid Entertainments, for their own Profit, was now in process of
Time become an Occupation; and that many there were that followed it
for a livelihood; and, which was worse, that it was become the Occasion
of much Sin and Evil; great Multitudes of People, especially Youth, in
Queen _Elizabeth’s_ Reign, resorting to these Plays; and being commonly
acted on _Sundays_ and _Festivals_, the Churches were forsaken, and the
Playhouses thronged, and great Disorders and Inconvenience were found
to ensue to the City thereby, forasmuch as it occasioned Frays and evil
Practices of Incontinency; Great Inns were used for this Purpose, which
had secret Chambers and Places, as well as open Stages and Galleries;
where Maids, especially Orphans, and good Citizen’s Children, under
Age, were inveigled and allured to privy and unmeet Contracts; and
where unchaste, uncomely and unshamefaced Speeches and Doings were
published; where there was an unthrifty Waste of the Money of the Poor;
sundry robberies, by picking and cutting Purses, uttering of popular
and seditious Matter, many corruptions of Youth, and other Enormities;
besides sundry Slaughters and Maimings of the Queen’s Subjects, by
falling of Scaffolds, Frames, and Stages, and by Engines, Weapons, and
Powder, used in the Plays; and believing that, in the time of God’s
Visitation by the Plague, such Assemblies of the People in Throngs
and Presses were very dangerous for spreading the Infection; they
regulated these Plays, lest the People, upon God’s gracious withdrawing
of the Sickness, should, with sudden forgetting of the Visitation,
without Fear of God’s Wrath, and without some Respect of those good and
politick Means (as the Words of the Act ran) that were ordained for the
Preservation of the Commonwealth and People in Health and good Order,
return to the undue Use of such Enormities. Therefore, for the lawful,
honest, comely Use of Plays, Pastimes, and Recreations in good Sort
permitted by the Authority of the Common Council, it was enacted:—

‘I. That no Play should be openly played within the Liberty of the
City, wherein should be uttered any Words, Examples, or Doings of any
Unchastity, Sedition, or such-like unfit and uncomely Matter, upon
Pain of Imprisonment for the space of fourteen Days, and 5£ for every
such offence. II. That no Innkeeper, Tavernkeeper, or other Person
whatsoever, within the Liberties of the City, shall shew or play, or
cause to be shewed or played, within his House or Yard, any Play, which
shall not first be perused and allowed by the Lord Mayor and Court of
Aldermen’s Order. III. No Person shall suffer any Plays to be played
in his House or Yard, whereof he then shall have Rule, but only such
Persons, and in such Places, as, upon good Consideration, shall be
thereunto permitted and allowed by the Lord Mayor and Aldermen. IV. Nor
shall take and use any such Benefit or Advantage of such Permission,
until such person be bound to the Chamberlain of _London_, in certain
Sums, for the Keeping of good Order, and avoiding of Discords and
inconveniences. V. Neither shall use or exercise such Licence or
Permission at any Time, in which the same shall be by the Lord Mayor
and Aldermen restrained, or commanded to stay and cease, in any usual
Time of Divine Service on the _Sunday_ or Holiday, or receive any to
that Purpose in Time of Service, to the same, upon Pain to forfeit for
every Offence 5£. VI. And every Person to be licensed shall, during
the Time of such continuance of License, pay to the Use of the Poor in
Hospitals of the City, or of the Poor visited with Sickness, such Sums
and Payments, as between the Mayor and Aldermen, and the Person to be
licensed, shall be agreed upon; upon Pain that, on the Want of every
such Payment, such License shall be utterly void. VII. All sums and
Forfeitures to be incurred for any offence against this Act, and all
Forfeitures of Bonds, shall be employed to the Relief of the Poor of
the Hospitals, or of the Poor infected or diseased in the City: And the
Chamberlain, in his own Name, shall have and recover the same, to the
Purposes aforesaid, in the Court of the outer Chamber of _Guildhall_,
_London_, called _The Mayors Court_.

‘Provided, That this Act shall not extend to Plays shewed in private
Houses, Lodgings of a Nobleman, Citizen, or Gentleman, which shall have
the same then played in his Presence for the Festivity of any Marriage,
Assembly of Friends, or other like Cause, without publick or common
collection of Money of the Auditors or Beholders.’” (Maitland, vol. i.
pp. 262–263.)

Since the players could act no more in the City, there was nothing for
them but to go outside. In 1574, James Burbage and some of the Earl
of Leicester’s Company obtained the Queen’s license to act plays in
any part of England. After receiving this license Burbage proceeded
to build the first theatre, the house called simply “The Theatre.”
This theatre was built outside the jurisdiction of the City, close to
the remains of the Holywell Priory. After the Dissolution the church
of this House was pulled down with most of the buildings. Houses were
built upon its site, and the ruins themselves gradually disappeared.
At the south-west of these ruins, on a site now marked by Dean’s Mews,
Holywell Lane, Burbage built his theatre at a cost of £600, the money
being advanced by his father-in-law. The theatre was in shape either
circular or oval, probably the former. It was built for all kind of
shows and entertainments. If a large space was wanted the whole of
the area could be taken by the performers; raised galleries ran round
the house; for the performance of a play, a stage was erected in the
middle; from the nature of the case there could be no question of
any scenery. The house was built of wood and is said to have been
handsomely decorated; the central area was without a roof. There were
troubles and quarrels about the lease of the house, which was taken
down in the year 1598–99. The wood and timber of which the house was
built were removed to Bankside, where they were used for the erection
of the Globe Theatre.

The second theatre of London was that called The Curtain. It is a fact
which illustrates the popularity of Finsbury Fields as a place of
resort that there should have been a second theatre erected so close to
the first. The Curtain Theatre was built on the south side of Holywell
Lane, Shoreditch. In the house, too, feats of arms, sword-play,
quarter-staff, and other games took place.

The third theatre (if we count The Globe as a continuation of The
Theatre) was The Fortune, built near Golden Lane, Cripplegate.

The strongest charge against the theatres was the license allowed
to the clowns or jesters, who between the pieces, or between the
Acts, played “jigs” or “drolls” accompanied by songs and dances, and
impromptu jokes which were topical, and, as may be imagined, broad
and coarse. We may easily imagine that the civic authorities, the
preachers, and the pamphleteers, who were always assailing the player
and driving him from place to place, were not spared when the Clown had
the stage all to himself, with hundreds of grinning faces in front of
him, all of whom were egging him on with laughter and applause to say
or do something more outrageous still, and loved nothing so much as to
see before them acted to the life some sour Puritan who could see only
“filthie and beastlie” stuff in the noblest play by Shakespeare, or in
any sport.

Another favourite place of resort for the citizens, especially for
the more riotous sort, was Southwark, with its raised river-wall
or Bankside; its numerous inns and taverns; its low-lying fields
and its various amusements. There were amphitheatres for bear- and
bull-baiting; in the High Street itself there was a ring for the bull;
in Paris Gardens, on the east side of Blackfriars Bridge, were kept
bears and dogs for the favourite, almost the national, amusement;
there was a kind of sanctuary in Southwark: here were allowed to
reside the “Flemish Frows” still, in spite of Henry the Seventh’s
suppression; here were held May Day games; here was held every year
the pageant of St. George’s Day; and here, in the time of Henry VIII.,
were collected together idlers, vagabonds, and rogues in great numbers.
In this place, the resort of all the young bloods and the wild element
of London, the players settled down in force. The Rose, The Hope,
The Globe, The Swan, all built about the same time, show the steady
popularity of the Drama, in spite of the Puritanic attacks upon it,
which seem to have done it no manner of harm.

[Illustration: BANKSIDE, SOUTHWARK, IN 1648, WITH A VIEW OF HOLLAND’S
LEAGUER, ONE OF THE ANCIENT STEWS OR LICENSED BROTHELS SUPPRESSED
DURING THE REIGN OF HENRY VIII.]

At one end of Bankside stood the ruins of the Monastic House and
the Clink Prison; then followed a single row of houses, at the back
of which were the Bull-Baiting Ground and the Bear Garden; then the
theatres already mentioned; also the Falcon Tavern, and Paris Gardens.
All these places were built on a low-lying and marshy ground planted
thickly with trees, intersected with ponds, ditches, and running
streams—for instance, the Pudding Mill stream ran round two-thirds of
Paris Gardens. For an account of the interior of a theatre and the
presentation of a play I quote an imaginary account, in my own words:—

“The interior of the theatre was circular in shape. It contained three
galleries, one above the other: the lowest called the ‘rooms,’ for
seats in which we paid a shilling each, contained the better sorts. At
each side of the stage there were boxes, one of which contained the
music. The stage itself, a stout construction of timber, projected
far into the pit, or, as Stow called it, the ‘yarde.’ At the back was
another stage, supported on two columns, and giving the players a
gallery about ten or twelve feet high, the purpose of which we were
very soon to find out. On each side of the stage were seats for those
who paid an additional sixpence. Here were a dozen or twenty gallants,
either with pipes of tobacco, or playing cards or dice before the play
began. One of them would get up quickly with a pretence of impatience,
and push back his cloak so as to show the richness of his doublet
below. The young men, whether at the theatre, or in Paul’s Walk, or in
Chepe, seemed all intent upon showing the bravery of their attire: no
girls of our day could be more vain of their dress or more critical of
the dress worn by others. Some of them, however, I perceived among the
groundlings—that is, the people on the ‘yarde’—gazing about the house
upon the women in the galleries. Here there were many dressed very
finely, like ladies of quality, in satin gowns, lawn aprons, taffeta
petticoats, and gold threads in their hair. They seemed to rejoice in
being thus observed and gazed upon. When a young man had found a girl
to his taste, he went into the gallery, sat beside her, and treated her
to pippins, nuts, or wine.

It was already one o’clock when we arrived. As we took our seats the
music played its first sounding or flourish. There was a great hubbub
in the place: hucksters went about with baskets, crying pippins, nuts,
and ale; in the ‘rooms’ booksellers’ boys hawked about new books;
everybody was talking together; everywhere the people were smoking
tobacco, playing cards, throwing dice, cheapening books, cracking nuts,
and calling for ale. The music played a second sounding. The hubbub
continued unabated. Then it played the third and last. Suddenly the
tumult ceased. The piece was about to begin.

The stage was decorated with blue hangings of silk between the columns,
showing that the piece was to be—in part at least—a comedy. Across the
railed gallery at the back was stretched a painted canvas representing
a royal palace. When the scene was changed this canvas became the wall
of a city, and the actors would walk on the top of the wall; or a
street with houses; or a tavern with its red lattice and its red sign;
or a tented field. When night was intended, the blue hangings were
drawn up and exchanged for black.

The hawkers retired and were quiet; the house settled down to listen,
and the Prologue began. Prologue appeared dressed in a long black
velvet cloak: he assumed a diffident and most respectful manner; he
bowed to the ground.

      ‘In Troy there lies the scene. From Isles of Greece
    The princes orgulous, their high blood chaf’d,
    Have to the port of Athens sent their ships.’

In this way the mind of the audience was prepared for what was to
follow. We needed no play-bill. The palace before us could be no other
than Priam’s Palace. If there was a field with tents, it must be the
battle-field and the camp of the Greeks; if there was a wall, it must
be the wall of Troy. And though the scenery was rough, it was enough.
One wants no more than the unmistakable suggestion; the poet and the
actor find the rest. Therefore, though the intrusive gallants lay on
the stage; though Troilus was dressed in the armour of Tudor time, and
Pandarus wore just such a doublet as old Stow himself, we were actually
at Troy. The boy who played Cressida was a lovely maiden. The narrow
stage was large enough for the Council of Kings, the wooing of lovers,
and the battle-field of heroes. Women unfaithful and perjured, lovers
trustful, warriors fierce, the alarms of war, fighting and slaying,
the sweet whispers of love were drowned by the blare of trumpets; the
loss of lover forgotten in the loss of a great captain; and among
the warriors and the kings and the lovers, the creeping creatures
who live upon the weaknesses and the sins of their betters, played
their parts upon these narrow boards before a silent and enraptured
house. For three hours we were kept out of our senses. There was no
need, I say, of better scenery: a quick shifting of the canvas showed
a battle-field, and turned the stage into a vast plain covered with
armies of Greeks and Romans. Soldiers innumerable, as thick as motes in
the sun, crossed the stage fighting, shouting, challenging each other.
While they fought, the trumpets blew and the drums beat, the wounded
fell, and the fight continued over these prostrate bodies till they
were carried off by their friends. The chiefs rushed to the front,
crossed swords, and rushed off again. ‘Come both you cogging Greeks!’
said Troilus, while our cheeks flushed and our lips parted. If the
stage had been four times as broad, if the number of men in action
had been multiplied by ten, we could not have felt more vividly the
rage, the joy, the madness of the battle. When the play was finished,
the ale, the apples, and the nuts were passed round, and the noise
began again. Then the clown came in and began to sing, and the music
played—but oh, how poor it seemed after the great emotions of the play!
The old man plucked me by the sleeve and we went out, and with us most
of the better sort.” (_London_, pp. 237–239.)

In addition to the foregoing, or as confirming and supplementing that
account, I quote the following from Drake’s _Shakespeare and his
Times_:—

“The passion for the stage continued rapidly to increase, and before
the year 1590, not less than four or five theatres were in existence.
The patronage of dramatic representation made an equal progress at
Court; for though Elizabeth never, it is believed, attended a public
theatre, yet had she four companies of children who frequently
performed for her amusement, denominated the Children of St. Paul’s,
the Children of Westminster, the Children of the Chapel, and the
Children of Windsor. The public actors, too, who were sometimes,
in imitation of these appellations, called the Children of the
Revels, were, towards the close of Her Majesty’s reign especially,
in consequence of a greatly acquired superiority over their younger
brethren, often called upon to act before her at the royal theatre in
Whitehall. Exhibitions of this kind at Court were usual at Christmas,
on Twelfth Night, at Candlemas, and at Shrove-tide, throughout the
reigns of Elizabeth and James, and the plays of Shakspeare were
occasionally the entertainment of the night; thus we find _Love’s
Labour Lost_ to have been performed before our maiden Queen during
the Christmas-holydays, and _King Lear_ to have been exhibited
before King James on St. Stephen’s night. On these occasions, the
representation was generally at night, that it might not interfere
with the performances at the regular theatre, which took place early
in the afternoon; and we learn from the Council-books that the royal
remuneration, in the age of Elizabeth, for the exhibition of a single
play at Whitehall, amounted to ten pounds, of which twenty nobles, or
six pounds, thirteen shillings, and fourpence, formed the customary
fee; and three pounds, six shillings, and eightpence the free gift
or bounty. If, however, the performers were required to leave the
capital for any of the royal palaces in its neighbourhood, the fee, in
consequence of the public exhibition of the day being prevented, was
augmented to twenty pounds.

The protection of the Drama by Elizabeth and her Ministers, though it
did not exempt the public players, except in one instance, from the
penalties of statutes against vagabonds, yet it induced during the
whole of her long reign numerous instances of private patronage from
the most opulent of her nobility and gentry, who, possessing the power
of licensing their own domestics as comedians, and, consequently, of
protecting them from the operation of the Act of Vagrancy, sheltered
various companies of performers, under the denomination of their
servants, or retainers—a privilege which was taken away, by Act of
Parliament, on the accession of James, and, as Mr. Chalmers observes,
‘put an end for ever to the scenic system of prior times.’”

There were no fewer than fourteen companies of players, under private
patronage, who contributed to exhilarate the people of London and the
country. Of these, Drake furnishes a chronological enumeration. “Soon
after the accession of Elizabeth appeared Lord Leicester’s company,
the same which, in 1574, was finally incorporated by royal licence;
in 1572 was formed Sir Robert Lane’s company; in the same year Lord
Clinton’s; in 1575 companies were created by Lord Warwick, and the Lord
Chamberlain, the name of Shakspeare being enrolled among the servants
of the latter, who, in the first year of the subsequent reign, became
entitled to the appellation of His Majesty’s servants; in 1576, the
Earl of Sussex brought forward a theatrical body, and in 1577, Lord
Howard another, neither of which, however, attained much eminence; in
1578 the Earl of Essex mustered a company of players, and in 1579, Lord
Strange, and the Earl of Derby, followed his example; in 1591 the Lord
Admiral produced his set of comedians; in 1592 the Earl of Hertford
effected a similar arrangement; in 1593 Lord Pembroke protected an
association of actors, and at the close of Her Majesty’s reign the Earl
of Worcester had in pay also a company of theatrical performers.”

As regards the management of his property in the play the author had
the choice of two methods. He might sell the copyright to the theatre.
In this case, to which authors frequently had recourse in the age
of Shakespeare, the dramatist sold outright the whole rights of the
piece, so that the proprietors of the theatre secured its performance
exclusively to their own company. If it was a popular piece, of course,
they were not anxious to publish it. If, however, the author kept the
piece in his own hands, he not only had the right of publication, but
he had, likewise, a claim upon the theatre for a benefit. This, towards
the termination of the sixteenth century, took place on the second day,
and was soon afterwards, as early indeed as 1612, postponed to the
third day.

The price of a drama, when disposed of to the public players, was
twenty nobles, or six pounds, thirteen shillings, and fourpence; but
private companies would sometimes give more than that sum.

The price of a play when published was sixpence, and the poet received
about forty shillings of an honorarium for a dedication. It has been
stated, however, that Shakespeare received but five pounds for his
_Hamlet_.

[Illustration:

  100. St. Mary Spittal.
  102. Houndsditch.
  103. Crutched Friars.
  104. Priory of Holy Trinity.
  105. Aldgate.
  106. St. Botolph, Aldgate.
  107.  The Minories.
  108.  The Postern Gate.
  109.  Great Tower Hill.
  110. Place of Execution.
  111. Allhallow’s Church, Barking.
  112. The Custom House.
  113. Tower of London.
  114. The White Tower.
  115. Traitors’ Gate.
  116.  Little Tower Hill.
  117.  East Smithfield.
  118.  Stepney.
  119.  St. Catherine’s Church.
  120.  St. Catherine’s Dock.
  121.  St. Catherine’s Hospital.
  122. Isle of Dogs.
  123. Monastery of Bermondsey.
  124. Says Court, Deptford.
  125. Palace of Placentia.
  126. Greenwich.

From the Panorama of “London, Westminster, and Southwark, in 1543.” By
Anthony Van den Wyngaerde. (Sutherland Collection, Bodleian Library,
Oxford.) _For continuation see pp. 234, 235._]

Hentzner, the German traveller, thus speaks of the theatres:—

“Without the City are some theatres, where English actors represent
almost every day Comedies and Tragedies to very numerous audiences;
these are concluded with variety of dances, accompanied by excellent
music and the excessive applause of those that are present. Not far
from one of these Theatres, which are all built of wood, lies the
Royal Barge, close to the river Thames; it has two splendid cabins,
beautifully ornamented with glass windows, painting and carving; it is
kept upon dry ground and sheltered from the weather.”

The entertainment offered to the French Ambassador at the Court of
Henry VIII. at Greenwich shows that acting and dressing formed part of
a courtly entertainment. They began with tournaments and contests on
foot and horse; they went on to an interlude in Latin, the altars being
all richly dressed.

“This being ended,” says the author of the _Life of Wolsey_, “there
came a great company of ladies and gentlemen, the chiefest beauties
in the realm of England, being as richly attired as cost could make,
or art devise, to set forth their gestures, proportions, or beauties,
that they seemed to the beholder rather like celestial angels than
terrestrial creatures, and in my judgment worthy of admiration, with
whom the gentlemen of France danced and masked; every man choosing his
lady as his fancy served; that done, and the maskers departed, came in
another masque of ladies and gentlewomen, so richly attired as I cannot
express; these ladies maskers tooke each of them one of the Frenchmen
to dance; and here note, that these noblewomen spoke all of them good
French, which delighted them much to hear the ladies speak to them in
their own language. Thus triumphantly did they spend the whole night
from five of the clock at the night into two or three of the clock in
the morning; at which time the gallants drew all to their lodgings to
take their rest.”

There was a kind of show called a Prolusion. This appears to have been
a representation of some well-known event or legend. Thus in 1587 there
was a Prolusion set forth by Hugh Offley, merchant-adventurer and
leather-seller, one of the Sheriffs of the year 1588. It represented
King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. He chose 300 good
archers, personable men; and he dressed them in black satin doublets
and black velvet hose; every man carried a bow of yew and a dozen waxed
arrows. They marched in goodly array from Merchant Taylors to Mile End
Green. Queen Elizabeth in her chariot passed them, and stopped in order
to see the show. “In her whole life,” she said, “she had never seen a
finer company of archers.” They all fell on their knees and prayed God
to prosper and preserve Her Majesty. She thanked them and passed on her
way, while the archers proceeded to attack the sham forts which had
been set up, after which those who shot best took prizes, and Master
Hugh Offley provided a banquet for all.

It is interesting to remember that the Theatre had to contend for the
place of honour with the stately and courtly Masque. All that artist
could do for decoration, or stage manager could devise for machinery,
or that poet could imagine or invent for fable, was pressed into the
service of the Masque. The dresses the players wore were most gorgeous;
the speeches were fine; the dances and the songs were most beautiful.
Real mountains contained real caves; Dryads ran out of the woods;
Naiads lay beside running streams; all the Gods and Goddesses of Ovid
took part in the action; there were thrones of gold and silver; there
were star-spangled skies; sea gods and river gods appeared; Tritons
blew their shells; mermaids swam about the sea-shell of mother-of-pearl
in which sat Venus herself. And all this time the Theatre itself had no
scenery and no stage management and no machinery. The Masque, however,
did not assume its full development till the next century. It will
be found more fully treated in the chapter on the Theatre and Art in
_London in the Time of the Stuarts_. Even more popular than the theatre
were the sports of bear-baiting, bull-baiting, wrestling, quarter-staff
and single-stick. The favourite place for these sports was the Paris
Garden beyond Bankside.

    “Yet everye Sondaye
      They will surelye spende
    One penye or two
      The bearwardes lyvyng to mende.
    At Paryse Garden eche Sondaye
      A man shall not fayle
    To fynde two or three hundreds
      For the bearwardes vaile.
    One halpenye a piece
      They use for to give
    When some have no more
      In their purse, I believe.”

You shall read contemporary accounts of bear-baiting and bull-baiting.

“Some,” says John Houghton in 1694, “keep the bull on purpose for the
sport of baiting, cutting off the tips of his horns, and with pitch,
tow, and such like matter, fasten upon them the great horns of oxen,
with their tips cut off, and covered with leather, least they should
hurt the dogs. Because these papers go into several other countries,
I’ll say something of the manner of baiting the bull, which is, by
having a collar about his neck, fastened to a thick rope about three,
four, or five yards long, hung to a hook, so fastened to a stake that
it will turn round; with this the bull circulates to watch his enemy,
which is a mastiff dog (commonly used to the sport) with a short nose,
that his teeth may take the better hold; this dog, if right, will creep
upon his belly, that he may, if possible, get the bull by the nose,
which the bull as carefully strives to defend, by laying it close to
the ground, where his horns are also ready to do what in them lies to
toss the dog; and this is the true sport.”

But if more dogs than one come at once, if they are cowardly and come
under his legs, he will, if he can, stamp their guts out. I believe I
have seen a dog tossed by a bull thirty, if not forty foot high; and
when they are tossed either higher or lower, the men above strive to
catch them on their shoulders, lest the fall might mischief the dogs.

They commonly lay sand about, that if they fall upon the ground it may
be the easier. Notwithstanding this care, a great many dogs are killed,
more have their limbs broke, and some hold so fast, that by the bull’s
swinging them their teeth are often broke out.

To perfect the history of bull-baiting, I must tell you, that the famed
dogs have crosses or roses of various coloured ribbon stuck with pitch
on their foreheads, and such like the ladies are very ready to bestow
on dogs or bull that do valiantly; and when ’tis stuck on the bull’s
forehead, that dog is hollowed that fetches it off, though the true
courage and art is to hold the bull by the nose ’till he roars, which a
courageous bull scorns to do.

Often the men are tossed as well as the dogs; and men, bull, and dogs,
seem exceedingly pleased, and as earnest at the sport as if it were for
the lives or livelihoods. Many great wagers are laid on both sides,
and great journeys will men and dogs go for such a diversion. I knew
a gentleman that bought a bull in Hertfordshire on purpose to go a
progress with him, at a great charge, into most of the great towns in
the West of England.

This is a sport the English much delight in; and not only the baser
sort, but the greatest lords and ladies.”

And here is Laneham on the sport of bear-baiting:—

“It waz a sport very pleazaunt of theez beasts; to see the bear with
hiz pink eyez leering after hiz enemiez approch, the nimbleness and
wayt of the dog to take hiz avauntage, and the fors and experiens of
the bear agayn to avoyd the assaults; if he were bitten in one place,
hoow he woold pynch in an oother too get free; that if he wear taken
onez, then what shyft with byting, with clawyng, with roring, tossing
and tumbling he woold woork too wynde hymself from them; and when he
waz lose, to shake his earz twyse or thryse wyth the blud and slauer
aboout his fiznamy, waz a matter of a goodly releef.”

We have already heard Hentzner on theatres, he has a word to say also
on baiting:—

“There is still another place, built in the form of a Theatre, which
serves for the baiting of bulls and bears; they are fastened behind,
and then worried by those great English dogs and mastiffs, but not
without great risk to the dogs from the teeth of the one and the
horns of the other, and it sometimes happens they are killed on the
spot; fresh ones are immediately supplied in the places of those
that are wounded or tired. To this entertainment often follows that
of whipping a blinded bear, which is performed by five or six men,
standing in a circle with whips which they exercise upon him without
any mercy; although he cannot escape from them because of his chain, he
nevertheless defends himself vigorously, throwing down all who come
within his reach and are not active enough to get out of it, tearing
the whips out of their hands and breaking them. At these spectacles,
and everywhere else, the English are constantly seen smoking the
Nicotean weed, which in America is called Tobaca, and generally in this
manner: they have pipes on purpose made of clay, into the farther end
of which they put the herb, so dry that it may be rubbed into powder,
and lighting it, they draw the smoke into their mouths, which they
puff out again through their nostrils, along with plenty of phlegm and
defluxion from the head. In these Theatres, fruits, such as apples,
pears, and nuts, according to the season, are carried about to be sold,
as well as wine and ale.”

But besides these cruel forms of so-called “sport,” there were more
legitimate pleasures such as archery.

“During the holy days in summer,” Fitz Stephen says, “the young men
exercise themselves in the sports of leaping, archery, etc.” The
practice of archery was maintained in the City after the longbow had
to give way before gun and cannon. As a pastime of the citizens only,
no account of London would be complete without reference to archery.
There were, as every one knows, two kinds of bow: the longbow and the
crossbow. The former, for various reasons—its superiority in readiness
of handling, lightness in carrying, range of flight and sureness of
aim, caused it to be much more generally adopted in our armies than
its rival. At Cressy, for instance, our men were armed with longbows,
and the French with crossbows; when the rain fell the longbows could
be easily covered up, the crossbow could not, so that the strings
were wetted and the power of the weapon greatly injured. Edward the
First, who had a great opinion of the longbow as the superior weapon,
ordered, on the threat of war with France, every sheriff of a county
to provide 500 white bows and as many bundles of arrows. Edward the
Third issued repeated proclamations ordering the practice of archery.
It would seem as if the word archery in the fourteenth century included
the crossbow as well as the longbow, for Edward the Second, in 1314
(Riley, _Memorials_, p. 124), commanded the City of London to furnish
300 arbalesters “more powerful for defence,” and to provide them
with “haketons, bacinets, collerettes, arbalests and quarels.” (The
haketon was a jacket of quilted leather; the bacinet was a headpiece;
the collerette, an iron collar for the protection of the throat; the
arbalest is the crossbow; the quarel was the bolt.)

Richard the Second ordered that every man in his household should
exercise himself as occasion should permit in archery. And in 1392 an
Act was passed obliging all servants to practise archery on holydays.
In 1417 Henry V. ascribed his victory at Agincourt chiefly to his
archers, and orders the Sheriffs of the counties to pluck from every
goose six wing-feathers for the improvement of the arrow. These
feathers were the second, third, and fourth of each wing. Edward IV.
ordered that Englishmen in Ireland and every Irishman living with
Englishmen should be provided with a bow of his own height, which was
to be made of yew, wych, hazel, ash, or alder. Butts were to be erected
in every township, and the inhabitants were to practise on every feast
day. The same king sent a thousand archers to the Duke of Burgundy,
who was to pay them sixpence a day, about five shillings of our money.
Nothing can prove more conclusively the estimation in which archers
were held. The same king provided for his war both guns and bows. A
great deal of yew was imported at this time; it came in the Venetian
ships from Dalmatia and the countries on the eastern shores of the
Adriatic.

In the nineteenth year of Henry VII. the King finally decided for the
longbow against the crossbow, because “the longbow had been much used
in this realm, whereby honour and victory had been gotten against
outward enemies; the realm greatly defended; and much more the dread of
all Christian Princes by reason of the same.” Henry VII. himself shot
at the butts.

There were at least five statutes issued by Henry VIII. ordering the
practice of archery, but forbidding the crossbow.

The London Archers continued to hold their yearly contests in the
month of September, in spite of the fact that henceforth there would
be no use for the longbow in warfare. They formed a very fine corps,
had they been of any use; meantime, the City has always loved a show,
and a very fine show the Archers provided. Their captain was called
the Duke of Shoreditch; the captains of the different Companies were
called the Marquesses of Clerkenwell, Islington, Hoxton, and the Earl
of Pancras,[13] etc.; in the year 1583 they assembled at Merchant
Taylors Hall to the number of 3000 all sumptuously apparelled, “nine
hundred and forty-two having chains of gold about their necks.” They
were escorted by whifflers and bowmen to the number of 4000, besides
pages and footmen; and so marching through Broad Street, where the
Duke of Shoreditch lived, they proceeded by Moorfields and Finsbury to
Smithfield, where, after performing their evolutions, they shot at the
target for glory.

The Finsbury Archers continued to exist and to hold their meetings
till well into the eighteenth century. Mr. Daines Barrington, writing
for the Society of Antiquaries in 1787, mentions that there were still
living two old men who had obtained prizes in these contests as late
as 1753, when they ceased. The same writer gives a map of the butts or
archers’ marks in Finsbury Fields as they were standing in the year
1787. The distance between the marks varies from 120 feet to 300 feet.
It may be assumed that 200 feet was a fairly average distance for an
arrow. The proper weight for an arrow was considered to be one ounce
only; it was to be winged by three feathers: two white being plucked
from the gander, and one gray taken from the goose; this difference in
colour showed the archer when the arrow was properly placed.

The Artillery Company or Finsbury Archers, predecessors of the present
Artillery Company, enjoyed certain privileges as to dress, as to
shooting at birds, and immunity from the charge of murder should any
one be killed by these arrows, especially after they had cried “Fast!”
as a warning.

It appears that bows and arrows were employed long after they left
the field of battle for shooting rabbits and crows, partly because
gunpowder was dear, but chiefly because the arrow makes no noise to
frighten the game away. The London Archers continued, in spite of the
fact that henceforth there would be no use of the longbow in warfare,
to hold their yearly contests in the month of September.

The Honourable Artillery Company, before it received its letters
patent, had been in the habit of practising archery in the fields of
Islington, Hoxton, and Shoreditch. In these fields targets or butts
were fixed to shoot at. Two of these butts or targets were still in
existence in 1860: one at the end of Dorchester Street, Hoxton, on the
east side of the New North Road near the Canal Bridge, and the other in
the brickwork of the Canal Bridge above the towing-path. Two others had
been destroyed about the year 1845: one in the Britannia Fields, and
the other in the ground now called Wellington Square. That standing at
the end of Dorchester Road was called “Whitehall.” A drawing of it is
given in the _L. and M. Arch. Society_ (vol. ii. p. 15).

The other sports, feasts, and festivals of the City remained in the
sixteenth century much as they had been before the change of Faith with
certain exceptions, such as the Boy Bishop, the Feast of All Fools in
the Church, and the Miracle Play with its profanity and coarseness.
These vanished. There remained the Feasts of Christmas and Easter; the
celebration of May Day; the Vigils of St. John, St. Peter, and St.
Paul; and the Midsummer Watch. There were also Shrove Tuesday, Hocking
Day, Whitsuntide, and Martinmas, with some others. The ceremonies of
a Christmas banquet are preserved in Gerard Leigh’s _Accidence of
Armory_, and have been reproduced by Nichols. The feast was that of the
year 1561. The place was the Temple. The person called Palaphilos was
the Constable and Marshall, Dudley, Earl of Leicester.

  “The next day I thought for my pastime to walk to this Temple,
  and entring in at the gates, I found the building nothing costly;
  but many comely Gentlemen of face and person, and thereto very
  courteous, saw I pass to and fro, so as it seemed a Prince’s port
  to be at hand; and passing forward, entred into a Church of antient
  building, wherein were many monuments of noble personages armd in
  knightly habit, with their cotes depainted in ancient shields,
  whereat I took pleasure to behold. Thus gazing as one bereft
  with the rare sight, there came unto me an Hereaught, by name
  Palaphilos, a King of Armes, who curteously saluted me, saying,
  ‘For that I was a stranger, and seeming by my demeanour a lover of
  honour, I was his guest of right’: whose curtesy (as reason was)
  I obeyed; answering ‘I was at his commandment.’ ‘Then,’ said he,
  ‘ye shall go to mine own lodging here within the Palace, where we
  will have such cheer as the time and country will yield us’: where,
  I assure you, I was so entertained, as no where I met with better
  cheer or company, etc.

  Thus talking we entred the Prince his Hall, where anon we heard the
  noise of drum and fyfe. ‘What meaneth this drum?’ said I. Quoth
  he, ‘This is to warn Gentlemen of the Houshold to repair to the
  dresser; wherefore come on with me, and ye shall stand where ye may
  best see the Hall served; and so from thence brought me into a long
  gallery, that stretched itself along the Hall neer the Prince’s
  table, where I saw the Prince set: a man of tall personage, a
  manly countenance, somewhat brown of visage, strongly featured,
  and thereto comely proportioned in all lineaments of body. At the
  nether end of the same table were placed the Embassadors of sundry
  Princes. Before him stood the carver, sewer, and cup-bearer, with
  great number of gentlemen wayters attending his person; the ushers
  making place to strangers of sundry regions that came to behold
  the honour of this mighty Captain. After the placing of these
  honourable guests, the Lord Steward, Treasurer, and Keeper of
  Pallas Seal, with divers honourable personages of that Nobility,
  were placed at a side-table neer adjoining the Prince on the
  right hand, and at another table on the left side were placed the
  Treasurer of the Household, Secretary, the Prince his Serjeant at
  the Law, four Masters of the Revels, the King of Arms, the Dean of
  the Chappel, and divers Gentlemen Pensioners to furnish the same.
  At another table on the other side were set the Master of the Game,
  and his Chief Ranger, Masters of Houshold, Clerks of the Green
  Cloth and Check, with divers other strangers to furnish the same.
  On the other side against them, began the table, the Lieutenant of
  the Tower, accompanied with divers Captains of foot-bands and shot.
  At the nether end of the Hall began the table, the High Butler, the
  Panter, Clerks of the Kitchin, Master Cook of the Privy Kitchin,
  furnished throughout with the souldiers and guard of the Prince;
  all which, with number of inferior officers placed and served in
  the Hall, besides the great resort of strangers I spare to write.

[Illustration: ROBERT DUDLEY, EARL OF LEICESTER (1532(?)-1588)

From the painting by Zuccaro in the National Portrait Gallery, London.]

  The Prince so served with tender meats, sweet fruits, and dainty
  delicates confectioned with curious cookery, as it seemed wonder a
  world to observe the provision; and at every course the trumpetters
  blew the couragious blast of deadly war, with noise of drum and
  fyfe, with the sweet harmony of violins, sackbutts, recorders, and
  cornetts, with other instruments of music, as it seemed Apollo’s
  harp had turned their stroke. Thus the Hall was served after the
  most ancient order of the Island; in commendation whereof I say,
  I have also seen the service of great Princes, in solemn seasons
  and times of triumph, yet the order hereof was not inferior to
  any. But to proceed, this Hereaught Palaphilos, even before the
  second course came in, standing at the high table said in this
  manner: ‘The mighty Palaphilos, Prince of Sophie, High Constable
  Marshall of the Knights Templars, Patron of the Honourable Order of
  Pegasus’; and therewith cryeth ‘A Largess.’ The Prince, praysing
  the Hereaught, bountifully rewarded him with a chain to the value
  of an hundred talents.

  I assure you, I languish for want of cunning, ripely to utter that
  I saw so orderly handled appertaining to service; wherefore I
  cease, and return to my purpose.

  The supper ended, and tables taken up, the High Constable rose,
  and a while stood under the place of honour, where his achievement
  was beautifully embroidered and devised of sundry matters, with
  the Ambassadors of foreign nations, as he thought good, till
  Palaphilos, King of Armes, came in, his Hereaught Marshal, and
  Pursivant before him; and after followed his messenger and Caligate
  Knight; who putting off his coronal, made his humble obeysance to
  the Prince, by whom he was commanded to draw neer, and understand
  his pleasure; saying to him, in few words, to this effect:
  ‘Palaphilos, seeing it hath pleased the high Pallas to think me
  to demerit the office of this place; and thereto this night past
  vouchsafed to descend from heavens to increase my further honour,
  by creating me Knight of her Order of Pegasus; as also commanded
  me to join in the same Society such valiant Gentlemen throughout
  her province whose living honour hath best deserved the same,
  the choice whereof most aptly belongeth to your skill, being the
  watchman of their doings and register of their deserts; I will
  ye choose as well throughout our whole armyes, as elsewhere, of
  such special gentlemen, as the gods hath appointed, the number of
  twenty-four, and the names of them present us: commanding also
  those chosen persons to appear in our presence in knightly habit,
  that with conveniency we may proceed in our purpose. This done
  Palaphilos obeying his Prince’s commandement, with twenty-four
  knights, all apparelled in long white vestures, with each man a
  scarf of Pallas colours, and them presented, with their names, to
  the Prince; who allowed well his choice, and commanded him to do
  his office. Who, after his duty to the Prince, bowed towards these
  worthy personages, standing every man to his antienty, as he had
  born armes in the field, and began to shew his Prince’s pleasure;
  with the honour of the Order.”

And here is a note from Stow on Christmas Customs:—

“Against the feast of Christmas, every man’s house, as also their
parish churches, were decked with holm, ivie, bayes, and whatsoever the
season of the yeere aforded to be greene; the conduits and standards
in the streets were likewise garnished. Amongst the which, I read,
that in the yeere 1444, by tempest of thunder and lightning, on the
first of February at night, Paul’s steeple was fired, but with great
labour quenched, and toward the morning of Candlemas day, at the Leaden
Hall in Cornhill, a standard of tree, beeing set up in the midst of
the pavement fast in the ground, nayled full of holme and ivy, for
disport of Christmas to the people, was torne up and cast downe by the
malignant spirit (as was thought), and the stones of the pavement all
about were cast in the streetes, and into divers houses, so that the
people were wore agast at the great tempests.”

Let us pass on to the great Festival of May Day.

    “Forth goeth all the court both most and lest,
    To Fetch the floures fresh, and braunch and blome—
    And namely hauthorn brought both page and grome
    And than rejoysen in their great delite;
    Eke ech at other throw the floures bright,
    The primerose, the violete, and the gold.
    With freshe garlants party blew and white.”

Philip Stubbes says:—“Against Maie, Whitsondaie, or some other tyme
of the yeare, every parishe, towne, and village assemble themselves
together, bothe men, women, and children; and either goyng all
together, or deviding themselves into companies, they goe some to the
woodes and groves, some to the hilles and mountaines, some to one
place, some to another, where they spend all the night in pleasant
pastymes, and in the mornyng they returne bringing with them, birch,
bouwes, and braunches of trees to deck their assemblies withal. But
their chiefest jewel they bring from thence is their Maie poole, which
they bring home with greate veneration, as thus:—They have twentie or
fortie yoke of oxen, every oxe havyng a swete nosegaie of flowers tyed
on the tippe of his hornes, and these oxen drawe home the Maie poole
(this stinckyng idoll rather), which is covered all over with flowers
and hearbes, bounde rounde aboute with stringes from the top to the
bottome, and sometyme painted with variable colours, with two or three
hundred men, women, and children followyng it with greate devotion.
And thus being reared up, with handkerchiefes and flagges streamyng on
the toppe, they strawe the grounde aboute, binde greene boughs about
it, sett up sommer halles, bowers, and arbours hard by it; and then
fall they to banquet and feast, to leape and daunce aboute it, as the
heathen people did at the dedication of their idolles.... I have heard
it credibly reported,” he sarcastically adds, “by men of great gravity,
credite, and reputation, that of fourtie, three score, or a hundred
maides goyng to the wood over night, there have scarcely the third
parte of them returned home againe as they went.” (_The Anatomie of
Abuses_, 1836 edition, p. 171.)

Herrick says:—

          “Get up ... and see
          The dew bespangling herbe and tree;
    Each flower has wept, and bow’d toward the east,
    Above an hour since; ... it is sin,
                  Nay profanation, to keep in;
    When as a thousand virgins on this day,
    Spring sooner than the larks to fetch in May!
          Come, my Corinna, come; and comming marke
          How each field turns a street, each street a parke
                  Made green and trimmed with trees; see how
                  Devotion gives each house a bough,
                  Or branch; each porch, each doore ere this,
                  An arke or tabernacle is,
          Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove,
          As if here were those cooler shades of love.

    Can such delights be in the street,
    And open fields, and we not see’t?
    Come, we’ll abroad; and let’s obey
    The Proclamation made for May,
    And sin no more, as we have done, by staying.

    There’s not a budding boy, or girle, this day
    But is got up, and gone to bring in May;
          A deale of youth, ere this, is come
          Back, and with white-thorn laden home.
          Some have dispatcht their cakes and creame,
          Before that we have left to dreame;
    And some have wept, and woo’d, and plighted troth,
    And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth;
          Many a green gown has been given;
          Many a kisse, both odde and even;
          Many a glance too has been sent
          From out the eye, Love’s firmament;
    Many a jest told of the keyes betraying
    This night, and locks pickt, ye w’are not a Maying!”

Of the festive appearance of the streets in summer, and the hospitality
of the citizens, and the setting of the Midsummer Watch, Stow speaks at
length (Thoms’s edition, p. 39):—

“In the months of June and July, on the vigils of festival days, and
on the same festival days in the evenings after the sun setting, there
were usually made bonfires in the streets, every man bestowing wood or
labour towards them; the wealthier sort also, before their doors, near
to the said bonfires, would set out tables on the vigils, furnished
with sweet bread and good drink, and on the festival days with meats
and drinks plentifully, whereunto they would invite their neighbours
and passengers also to sit and be merry with them in great familiarity,
praising God for His benefits bestowed on them. These were called
bonfires as well of good amity amongst neighbours that being before at
controversy were there, by the labour of others, reconciled, and made
of bitter enemies loving friends; and also for the virtue that a great
fire hath to purge the infection of the air. On the vigil of St. John
the Baptist, and on St. Peter and Paul the apostles, every man’s door
being shadowed with green birch, long fennel, St. John’s wort, orpin,
white lilies, and such like, garnished upon with garlands of beautiful
flowers, had also lamps of glass, with oil burning in them all the
night; some hung out branches of iron curiously wrought, containing
hundreds of lamps alight at once, which made a goodly show, namely in
New Fish Street, Thames Street, etc.”

[Illustration:

_Drawn by Grignon, photographed by D^r Diamond_ _J. Hale Keur Sr._

A FÊTE AT HORSELYDOWN IN 159O

From a picture by G. Hoffnagle at Hatfield House.]

At Whitsuntide 1900 I was at Treves. It is the custom on Whit Sunday
to hold a great procession in which, apparently, the whole population
takes part through the principal streets to the Cathedral. The girls
are dressed in white with white flowers in their hair; the younger
girls carry baskets filled with white flowers; men, women, and children
are all chanting as they go; groups of priests, boys in scarlet,
beadles and other ecclesiastical selections, adorn the procession. If
that were all I should not notice it in this place. But in addition
every street through which the procession passed was decorated with
branches. And here for the first time I understood the lines already
quoted, how

    “Each field turns a street, each street a parke
            Made green and trimmed with trees; see how
            Devotion gives each house a bough,
            Or branch; each porch, each doore, ere this,
            An arke or tabernacle is,
    Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove.”

For the decking of the house did not consist of a branch or a bunch
over a porch or a window, but the whole ground-floor of every house was
covered with great boughs closely placed side by side so as to look
like a lane of trees. Herrick did not exaggerate.

Stow goes on to speak of the Marching Watch:—

“Besides the standing Watches all in bright Harness, in every Ward
and Street in this city and Suburbs, there was also a Marching Watch,
that passed through the principal Streets thereof, to wit, from the
little conduit by Paul’s Gate to West Cheap, by the Stocks through
Cornhill, by Leaden Hall to Aldgate, then back down Fenchurch Street,
by Grasse church, about Grasse church conduit, and up Grasse church
street into Cornhill, and through it into West Cheap again, and so
broke up. The whole way ordered for this marching watch extendeth to
three thousand two hundred Taylor’s Yards of Assize; for the furniture
whereof with Lights, there were appointed seven hundred cressets, five
hundred of them being found by the Companies, the other two hundred
by the Chamber of London. Besides the which Lights every Constable in
London, in number more than two hundred and forty, had his Cresset;
the charge of every Cresset was in Light two shillings and fourpence,
and every cresset had two men, one to bear or hold it, another to bear
a Bag with Light, and to serve it, so that the Poor Men pertaining
to the Cressets, taking Wages, besides that every one had a strawen
Hat, with a Badge painted, and his breakfast, amounted in number to
almost two thousand. The marching Watch contained in number about two
thousand men, part of them being old Soldiers, of skill to be Captains,
Lieutenants, Serjeants, Corporals, etc., Wiflers, Drummers, and Fifes,
Standard and Ensign Bearers, Demilances on great Horses, Gunners with
hand guns, or half Hakes, Archers in coats of white Fustian, signed
on the breast and back with the Arms of the City, their Bows bent in
their Hands, with Sheafs of Arrows by their Sides; Pikemen in bright
Corslets, Burganets, etc., Halbards, the like the Billmen in Almain
Rivets, and Aprons of Mail in great Number. There were also divers
Pageants, Morris Dancers, Constables, the one-half, which was one
hundred and twenty on St. John’s Eve, the other half on St. Peter’s
Eve, in bright harness, some over Gilt, and every one a jornet of
Scarlet thereupon, and a Chain of Gold, his henchman following him, his
Minstrels before him, and his Cresset Light passing by him, the Waits
of the City, the Mayor’s officers for his Guard before him, all in a
livery of woosted, or Sea Jackets party-coloured, the Mayor himself
well mounted on Horseback, the Swordbearer before him in fair Armour
well mounted also, the Mayor’s Footmen, and the like Torch Bearers
about him, Henchmen twain upon great stirring Horses, following him.
The Sheriffs’ Watches came one after the other in like Order, but not
so large in Number as the Mayor’s; for where the Mayor had, besides his
Giant, three Pageants, each of the Sheriffs had, besides their Giants,
but two Pageants; each their Morris Dance, and one Henchman, their
Officers in jackets of woosted or Sea, party-coloured, differing from
the Mayor’s and each from other, but having harnessed Men a great many.

This Midsummer Watch was thus accustomed yearly, time out of Mind,
until the year 1539, the 31st of Henry VIII., in which year, on the 8th
of May, a great Muster was made by the Citizens at the Mile’s End, all
in bright Harness, with Coats of White Silk, or Cloth and Chains of
Gold, in three great Battels, to the number of fifteen thousand, which
passed through London to Westminster, and so through the Sanctuary, and
round about the Park of St. James, and returned home through Oldborne.
King Henry, then considering the great Charges of the Citizens for the
Furniture of this unusual Muster, forbad the Marching Watch provided
for at Midsummer for that Year; which being once laid down, was not
raised again till the year 1548, the 2nd of Edward VI., Sir John
Gresham then being Mayor, who caused the Marching Watch, both on the
eve of St. John Baptist and of St. Peter the Apostle, to be revived and
set forth in as comely order as it hath been accustomed, which Watch
was also beautified by the number of more than three hundred Demilances
and light Horsemen, prepared by the citizens to be sent into Scotland
for the rescue of the town of Haddington, and others kept by the
Englishmen.” (Stow, vol. i.)

As for dancing, never was there a time when it was more popular.
Everybody danced: the Queen at Whitehall danced the brawl; the
kitchen-maid in the street danced the ney. They danced the solemn
_pavane_, the _Cassamezzo galliard_, the _canary_ dance, the _Coranto_,
the _Cavolta_, the _jig_, the _galliard_, the _fancy_, and the _Ney_,
and perhaps many more. They played cards: they played at primiero,
trumpe, gleek, gresso, new cut, knave out of doors, ruff, noddy, most
and pace; they got through the long winter evenings mainly with the
help of cards. Bowling was a summer amusement; tournaments belonged
to the Court; hunting was an amusement for the richer sort; the
people also fought cocks, wrestled, practised archery, and played
quarter-staff. The old Catholic feasts and sports—such as the Feast of
Fools, the Boy Bishop, the Mysteries in the Churches, were abolished;
but in their own houses they had mumming and mummers; for the ladies
there was embroidery; there was also fine work of all kinds. And there
was a great demand for monsters: a pig with eight legs; strange fishes
caught in the river; a mermaid quite fresh, unfortunately dead, caught
off the Yarmouth Roads; a calf with two backs; a lobster with six
claws; these things were always on exhibition, for the most part, in
Fleet Street. Their Morris dances, their Maypoles, Whitsun Ales, their
fairs and wakes, and, in fact, every occasion for meeting together,
singing, feasting, and dancing, this Protestant city kept up.

[Illustration: THE DANCING PICTURE

By Holbein and Janet, in the possession of Major-General F. E. Sotheby.]

Among the amusements of the people must not be forgotten the common
custom of telling stories. The long evenings when the family gathered
round the fire, the only light in the room, were tedious: they could
hardly go to bed much before eight, though they rose long before
daybreak. Story-telling was an amusement which had long ago pleased the
Saxons and the Danes, who recounted the great deeds of their ancestors
to wile away the winter evening. Perhaps many of the stories which
found their way into books during the sixteenth century served this
purpose, while the merry jests of Skogan, and Peele, and the rest,
certainly formed part of the story-teller’s _répertoire_.

Another amusement was that of reading. We have already seen what an
immense field was opened up for those who loved books, by the shoals
which during Elizabeth’s reign were issued from the press.

The first Lottery was set on foot in the year 1559. The drawing took
place at the west door of St. Paul’s, and continued daily from the
11th of January to the 6th of May following. The Lottery did not gain
its full power until the eighteenth century. It is sufficient here
to record the first appearance of this baleful institution, fruitful
mother of crime.




                             CHAPTER VIII

                               THE POOR


Harrison says that there are “four kinds of poor: the poor by
impotence, as the fatherless child, the blind man, and the incurably
sick man; the poor by casualty, as the wounded soldier; the thriftless
poor, as the rioter that hath consumed all; the vagabond that will
abide nowhere; and, finally, the rogues and strumpet which are not
possible to be divided in sunder.”

As regards the last sort. Harrison’s description tells everything that
is wanted.

“Such as are idle beggars through their owne default are of two sorts,
and continue their estates either by casuall or meere voluntarie
meanes: those that are such by casuall means, are in the beginning
justlie to be referred either to the first or second sort of poore
afore mentioned; but degenerating into the thriftlesse sort, they doo
what they can to continue their miserie, and with such impediments as
they have to straie and wander about, as creatures abhorring all labour
and every honest exercise. Certes I call these casuall meanes, not in
respect of the originall of their povertie, but of the continuance of
the same, from whence they will not be delivered, such is their owne
ungratious lewdnesse and froward disposition. The voluntarie meanes
proceed from outward causes, as by making of corosives, and applieng
the same to the more fleshie parts of their bodies; and also laieng
of ratsbane, sperewort, crowfoot, and such like unto their whole
members, thereby to raise pitifull and odious sores and moove the
harts of the goers by such places where they lie, to yerne at their
miserie and bestow large almesse upon them. How artificiallie they
beg, what forcible speech, and how they select and choose out words of
vehemencie, whereby they doo in maner conjure or adjure the goer by to
pitie their cases, I passe over to remember, as judging the name of
God and Christ to be more conversant in the mouths of none; and yet
the presence of the heavenlie majestie further off from no men than
from this ungracious companie. Which maketh me to think that punishment
is farre meeter for them than liberalitie or almesse, and sith Christ
willeth us cheeflie to have a regard to Himselfe and His poore members.

Unto this nest is another sort to be referred, more sturdie than the
rest, which having sound and perfect limbs, doo yet, notwithstanding,
sometime counterfeit the possession of all sorts of diseases. Divers
times in their apparell also they will be like serving-men or laborers;
oftentimes they can plaie the mariners, and seeke for ships which they
never lost. But in fine, they are thieves and caterpillars in the
common-wealth, and by the word of God not permitted to eat, sith they
doo but lick the sweat from the true labourers’ browes, and beereve
the godly poore of that whiche is due unto them, to mainteine their
excesse, consuming the charitie of well-disposed people bestowed upon
them, after a most wicked and detestable manner.

It is not yet full threescore yeares since this trade began; but how it
hath prospered since that time, it is easie to judge, for they are now
supposed, of one sex and another, to amount unto about 10,000 persons;
as I have heard reported. Moreover, in counterfeiting the Egyptian
rogues, they have devised a language among themselves, which they name
Canting, but other pedlers French, a speech compact thirtie years since
of English, and a great number of od words of their own devising,
without all order or reason; and yet such is it as none but themselves
are able to understand. The first deviser thereof was hanged by the
necke, a just reward no doubt for his deserts, and a common end to all
of that profession....

The punishment that is ordeined for this kind of people is verie sharpe
and yet it can not restreine them from their gadding; wherefore the end
must needs be martiall law, to be exercised upon them, as upon theeves,
robbers, despisers of all lawes, and enimies to the common-wealth and
welfare of the land. What notable roberies, pilferies, murders, rapes,
and stealings of yoong children, burning, breaking and disfiguring
their lims to make them pitifull in the sight of the people, I need
not to rehearse; but for their idle roging about the countrie, the
law ordeineth this manner of correction. The roge being apprehended,
committed to prison, and tried in the next assises (whether they be of
gaole diliverie or sessions of the peace), if he happen to be convicted
for a vagabond either by inquest of office, or the testimonie of two
honest and credible witnesses upon their oths, he is then immediately
adjudged to be greeviously whipped and burned through the gristle of
the right eare, with a hot iron of the compasse of an inch about, as a
manifestation of his wicked life, and due punishment received for the
same. And this judgment is to be excuted upon him, except some honest
person woorth five pounds in the queenes books in goods, or twentie
shillings in lands, or some rich housholder to be allowed by the
justices will be bound in recognisance to reteine him in his service
for one whole yeare. If he be taken the second time, and proved to
have forsaken his said service, he shall then be whipped againe, bored
likewise through the other eare and set to service; from when if he
depart before a yeare be expired, and happen afterwards to be attached
againe, he is condemned to suffer paines of death as a fellon (except
before excepted), without benefit of clergy or sanctuarie, as by the
statute doth appeare. Among roges and idle persons finallie, we find to
be comprised all proctors that go up and down with conterfeit licenses,
coosiners, and such as gad about the countrie, using unlawfull games,
practisers of physiognomie and palmestrie, tellers of fortunes,
fensers, plaiers, minstrels, jugglers, pedlers, tinkers, pretensed
scholars, shipmen, prisoners gathering for fees, and others so oft as
they be taken without sufficient licence. From among which companie our
bearewards are not excepted and just cause; for I have read that they
have either voluntarilie, or for want of power to master their savege
beasts, beene occasion of the death and devoration of manie children in
sundrie countries by which they have passed, whose parents never knew
what was become of them.” (Holinshed, vol. i.)

The great increase of rogues and vagabonds of all kinds led in the year
1561 to a proposition for a House of Correction. The plan or scheme of
which was drawn out at full length, is published in _Archæologia_ (vol.
xxi. p. 451).

The House was to be strong and in two divisions: one for the men and
the other for the women. It was to be built and furnished by the
alms of the people where it was put up—in this case Westminster was
proposed. In furnishing, care must be taken that everything should
be simple, because “it is to be considered beforehand that ye shall
have to do with the most desperatest people of the earth, geven to all
spoyle and robbery and soch as will break from you and steale.”

For work, it must be of a kind that they cannot steal or destroy. A
Mill, therefore, for the men, or a Lime Kiln; and for the women a Wheel
for cotton wool or woollen yarn. Of officers there must be six Masters:
a clerk; a porter and keeper; two beadles, and a miller.

The rations for the inmates were to be as follows:—To every four women,
at every meal, one pound of beef, potage, bread and drink. To every two
men working in the mill, double this allowance. The allowance of bread
was to be sixteen ounces a day. The allowance of beer was to every
four women one “pottell” of single beer a day, but to the men double
that quantity. On fast days an equivalent of butter, cheese, herrings,
“pescodes,” and such like.

There were to be two pairs of stocks and shackles for the refractory.
The Matron was to be a strong woman—the Elizabethan female of the baser
kind did not weaken her muscles and her nerves with tea; and, which is
very significant, it is added, “ye must be careful of fyer, for the
people are desperate and care not what mischief they do.”

I do not know whether this proposed House of Correction was erected or
not.

The present seems the best place and time to speak of systematic
attempts at Poor Relief.

The relief of the poor was a duty enjoined on all men. Almsgiving
was considered especially a virtue becoming to kings and princes.
Alfred gave alms continually. The Monastic Houses never turned away a
beggar without a meal to speed him on his way. Rich and noble persons
kept open house at Christmas, Easter, and Whitsuntide. Already the
custom was commenced of leaving lands or money to the church or to the
monastery saddled with the condition of alms to be bestowed on the
anniversary of the donor. By the laws of Ethelred, which probably only
confirmed a custom, the third part of the tithe due to the Church was
to be set aside for the use of the poor. In the Canons of Ælfric the
same proportion is enjoined to be so reserved. And in all the Monastic
Houses a certain part of the revenues was expended on the Almonry or
the Infirmary.

The custom of giving indiscriminately to any vagrant who demanded
alms, created a class of “masterless” men who would do no work and
wandered about the country. It took some centuries of this growing evil
before men could be brought to connect vagrancy with indiscriminate
almsgiving. At first the efforts made to repress vagrancy were directed
towards compulsory work. No one dared to maintain, perhaps no one dared
to think, that it was wrong to give alms to a beggar merely because he
was a beggar; but every one understood that the labourer must somehow
be made to work. Had the Clergy and the Monastic Houses perceived the
truth, vagrancy might have been reduced to a few companies of outlaws
and marauders. But we cannot blame the clergy of the thirteenth century
for failing to understand what the clergy of the present century are
still unable to understand. When the law interfered, the situation was
wellnigh desperate. The Black Death of 1348–50 had made labour scarce
and wages high. The necessity of suppressing able-bodied begging and of
sending the able-bodied beggar back to his native place and his proper
work was forced upon the Government. The Labour Statutes endeavoured to
force men to work and to keep down wages. In the fourteenth century,
just as to-day, there was a natural limit imposed upon wages by the
price of grain and food. The rustic who understood nothing about this
limit, naturally desired higher and still higher wages; if he could not
get this increase in his own parish, he went elsewhere: he begged his
way; he found food at the monastery; he tasted the joys of food which
was got without any work for it; he therefore easily dropped into the
condition of the masterless man and the able-bodied beggar.

In 1349 the law stepped in. No one must give alms, money, or food to
the able-bodied, so that for lack of bread they might be compelled to
work. The rustics, in order to escape the terrors of this law, ran
about the country from place to place. They pretended to be lame,
blind, dumb, paralysed; in this disguise they wandered about begging
with impunity unless they were detected. They pretended (case of
impostor—Riley) to go on pilgrimage: they joined companies of pilgrims,
begging by the way, and so got along for a time without working.
Therefore in 1388 other laws were framed. Nobody was allowed to beg at
all without a letter granting him a license; nobody was allowed to go
on pilgrimage without a license; nobody was to go anywhere outside his
own part of the country without a license. If any were found without
such warrant or permission they were clapped into the stocks. The Act
endeavoured to put a stop not only to able-bodied vagrancy, but also to
beggars who were crippled or afflicted, for they, too, were forbidden
to roam.

The citizens of London were especially severe on masterless men.

The law, at the same time, recognised the duty of relieving the
impotent, and the deserving poor, and the right of these to demand
relief. Wherever they were found they were compelled to go back to the
place to which they belonged by birth.

Nothing could be better or more effectual than these laws if they could
have been enforced. But how were they to be enforced? Where were the
police who might patrol the roads? How were the villagers disposed
towards laws which made them accept whatever wages the Lord of the
Manor chose to give them? In the City of London what were the opinions
of the working class, of the craftsmen? And how could the Alderman in
his ward ascertain that every man was following his own craft? No doubt
the power of arresting, punishing, and sending to their own villages
the wandering rustic, had the effect of keeping down the number of the
beggars. In a short time, too, the natural increase of the population
relieved the scarcity of labour. Moreover the relief of the poor by
each parish was ordered by the setting aside of a portion of the tithe
for their benefit (a revival of the Saxon law); and in those cases
where the tithes went to a monastic house, the same portion should be
payable by the monks or nuns. The jealousy with which the religious
Orders were already regarded is shown by the enactment of this
provision by Richard II. and its confirmation by Henry IV.

If the laws against grants of the fourteenth century had been enforced
there would have been an end of the evil. Unfortunately, they could
not be enforced. In the country there was no kind of Police; in London
the City had outgrown the old government by Aldermen and Ward, and
the people were overflowing the City boundaries and were beyond the
jurisdiction of the Mayor. Now the control of the county would not
be very effective, say, at Wapping or at Bermondsey, when the people
began to settle there. During the whole of the fifteenth century the
demand for able-bodied men for the war in France first, and the Civil
wars next, was so great that there seem to have been few vagrants
in the country. Indications, however, are by no means wanting of a
“masterless” element in London.

The cessation of the wars threw a large number of men out of
employment; worse than this, it found them unwilling or unable to
settle down again to steady work. Other causes also operated to produce
the same result. The English nobles had ceased to maintain their large
retinues: no longer did an Earl of Warwick ride into London with seven
hundred gentlemen and men-at-arms; Sir Thomas More says expressly that
the men who formerly had been in this kind of service either starved
or became thieves. Again, the changes in the industrial condition of
the country threw many people out of work: lands formerly arable were
turned into pasture; sheep runs took the place of cornfields; one
shepherd was wanted instead of half-a-dozen labourers. There was again
a great rise in prices, owing to the influx of silver. In fifty years
provisions of all kinds were doubled in price while wages rose only
thirty per cent. Add to these causes the continuance of indiscriminate
almsgiving.

The evil grew continually during the whole of the sixteenth century.

Early in the sixteenth century the City of London began to pass
regulations against vagrants. They forbade able-bodied vagrants
to beg and citizens to give money to unlicensed beggars: in other
words, they revived and enforced the old laws. Great strictness was
ordered. Vagrants had the letter V fastened on their breasts, and
were driven through Cheapside to the music of a basin ringing before
them. Four surveyors were appointed to carry out these instructions.
There was also an officer appointed, called “Master and Chief Avoyder
and Keeper out of this City and the liberties of the same all the
mighty vagabonds and beggars and all other suspected persons, except
such as wear upon them the badge of the City.” The vagrants, when
apprehended, were whipped at the cart’s tail; they also had to wear
collars of iron about their necks. Those who were allowed to beg had
tokens of tin given to them by the Aldermen. As for the relief of
the deserving poor, there were the “Companies’ stores,” granaries of
wheat provided for emergencies; alms were asked for every Sunday at
the church doors; the old hospitals were suppressed at the Reformation
until St. Bartholomew’s and St. Mary of Bethlehem were granted to the
City by Henry VIII. and reopened as hospitals. The City did not show
to advantage in giving money to the poor; we must remember that for
many centuries charity had been understood as indiscriminate alms given
by the Church and by rich men. What private persons gave was for the
advantage of their souls. Latimer and Lever thundered in vain. Latimer
says:—

  “Now what shall we say of these rich citizens of London? What shall
  I say of them? Shall I call them proud men of London, malicious
  men of London, merciless men of London? No, no, I may not say
  so; they will be offended with me then. Yet must I speak. For is
  there not reigning in London as much pride, as much covetousness,
  as much cruelty, as much oppression and as much superstition as
  was in Nebo? Yes I think, and much more too.... But London was
  never so ill as it is now. In times past men were full of pity and
  compassion, but now there is no pity; for in London their brother
  shall die in the streets for cold, he shall lie sick at the door
  between stock and stock ... and perish there for hunger: was there
  ever more unmercifulness in Nebo? I think not. In times past,
  when any rich man died in London they were wont to help the poor
  scholars of the Universities with exhibitions. When any man died,
  they would bequeath great sums of money towards the relief of the
  poor. When I was a scholar in Cambridge myself I heard very good
  report of London, and knew many that had relief of the rich men of
  London; but now I can hear no such good report, and yet I inquire
  of it, and hearken for it; but now charity is waxen cold, none
  helpeth the scholar, nor yet the poor.”

Lever said:—

  “Nowe speakynge in the behalfe of these vile beggars, ... I wyl
  tell the(e) that art a noble man, a worshipful man, an honest
  welthye man, especially if thou be Maire, Sherif, Alderman, baily,
  constable or any such officer, it is to thy great shame afore the
  worlde, and to thy utter damnation afore God, to se these begging
  as thei use to do in the streates. For there is never a one of
  these but he lacketh eyther thy charitable almes to relieve his
  neede, or els thy due correction to punysh his faute.... These sely
  sols have been neglected throughout al England and especially in
  London and Westminster: But now I trust that a good overseer, a
  godly Byshop I meane, wyl see that they in these two cyties shall
  have their neede releeved, and their faultes corrected, to the good
  ensample of al other tounes and cities.”

Then St. Thomas’s Hospital and Bridewell were obtained from the King.
The latter was designed as a House of Instruction and Correction. It
was to receive the child “unapt for learning”; the “sore and sick when
they be cured”; and persons who have lost their character and either
cannot work or cannot find any who will employ them. The children were
to be made to work; the others were to be taught certain trades. They
were to be such as would not interfere with the crafts carried on in
the City.

The treatment of the poor began by being the work of the towns, each
town working out its own experimental methods. This was followed by
legislation in Parliament.

The Act of 1573, of which we have read Harrison’s account, enjoined
boring through the ear and whipping, and at the third offence death.
The Middlesex Sessions Rolls show that these sentences were actually
carried out. Between 6th October and 14th December 1591, 71 vagrants
were sentenced at the Sessions to be branded and whipped.

Who were vagrants? They were defined as proctors or procurators;
persons pretending to knowledge in “Phisnomye, Palmestrye, and other
abused Scyences,” masterless men; “fencers, bearewardes, players,
minstrels,”—not belonging to some noble lord; jugglers, pedlars,
tinkers, chapmen; labourers refusing customary wages; counterfeiters
of passes; scholars of Oxford and Cambridge who beg without license;
sailors not licensed; discharged prisoners without license; impotent
poor. But of these, players, bearwards, and pedlars were allowed to
carry on their calling subject to license.

In every parish the Justices of the Peace were to make a register of
the names of the poor. Every month they were to search for strange poor.

Justices in the country and Mayors in London were to assess and tax
the people for the relief of the poor; and those who refused to pay
were to be imprisoned. Three years later it was ordered that “stock”
of wool, flax, hemp, iron, or other stuff, should be provided for the
work of the poor. Between 1575 and 1597 other statutes were passed for
the prevention of increased settlement of poor families. No more houses
to be built within three miles of London westward except for people
assessed at £5 in goods or £3 in land. No tenement houses to be built,
and no inmates to be received.

In 1597 there was great discussion in the House of Commons on the
whole subject of poor relief. Finally an Act was passed by which the
relief of the poor was placed in the hands of church-wardens and four
overseers of Poor elected every Easter. They had to teach children and
bind them apprentice; they provided work for the adult; they relieved
the impotent; they built hospitals; they levied rates; they made Houses
of Correction; they resorted to more whipping and to banishment, with
death for return.

Next there is the interference of the Privy Council ordering the
Justices of the Peace to look after the vagrants and to report. Here is
a brief summary.

  1573. Mayor has received a second letter from the Privy Council on
  subject of vagrants.

  1579. Common Council considered the work of the poor at Bridewell
  and referred to Lords of the Council.

  1583. Privy Council recommenced prevention of Irish beggars.

  1594. City meets Justices of Middlesex on subject.

  _London_—1572. Mayor issued precept to Aldermen to inquire
  about poor of every parish. Another precept to use the
  church-wardens—thus to assess the whole ward—to make them pay who
  had given nothing, and to make them pay more who had given too
  little.

  In 1573. Assessments proving too little, collections were made in
  churches.

  1576. Each parish was to elect a surveyor who every night for a
  week should help the constable, beadle, and church-wardens in
  visiting the houses and sending away vagrants.

Then followed a double method—relief and repression undertaken by the
parish and municipal authorities together. The vagrants were taken to
Bridewell, where the sick were picked out and sent to St. Thomas’s and
St. Bartholomew’s—thence returned to Bridewell—and made to work for
their diet. The parish looked after the rest of the poor. The children
were sent to Christ’s Hospital. The impotent were relieved.

It seems as if so strict a system must have been successful. But it was
not.

In 1601 the Act of 1579 was reconsidered and slightly altered.

  1610. An Act for building one or more Houses of Correction in every
  county was brought in.

The supply of corn for the markets occupied Parliament a great deal
between 1610 and 1630. There were bad harvests, and general distress.
The Privy Council tried to prevent scarcity, to find work for the poor,
and to regulate trade in the interests of the working classes. Against
times of scarcity of fuel, a coalyard was established in London for the
poor. Watchmen were provided in time of plague. More almshouses existed
then than now for the old and impotent.

It is customary to speak of the time immediately following the
Reformation as especially hard-hearted and uncharitable. For instance,
here is a certain passage, one of many, in Stubbes’s _Anatomie_, which
is certainly strong evidence of a lack of charity. It is as follows:—

“There is a certayne citie in Ailgna (Anglia) called Munidnol
(Londinum) where as the poore lye in the streetes, upon pallets of
strawe, and wel if they have that too, or els in the mire and dirt,
as commonly it is seene, having neither house to put in their heades,
covering to keepe them from the colde, nor yet to hyde their shame
withall, nor a pennie to by them sustenaunce, nor any thing els, but
are suffered to dye in the streetes like dogges or beastes, without any
mercy or compassion shewed to them at all. And if any be sicke of the
plague (as they call it) or any other mortall disease, their maisters
and mistresses are so impudent (having made, it shoulde seeme, a league
with Sathan, a covenant with hell, and an obligation with the devil,
never to have to doe with the workes of mercie) as straight way they
throwe them out of their doores: and so being caried forth, either in
cartes or otherwise, or laied downe eyther in the streetes, or els
conveiyed to some olde house in the fields or gardens, where for want
of due sustentation, they ende their lives most miserably. Truely,
brother, if I had not seene it, I would scarsly have thought that the
like Turkishe crueltie had bene used in all the world.”[14]

I would again call attention, however, to a point which has already
been mentioned in these pages. Before the suppression of the Religious
Houses these places had taken over and held in their own hands the
whole management of the poor, the sick, and the disabled, save those
whom the City Companies took under their own care. For centuries,
therefore, the people had been taught to regard the care of the sick
and old, and in a great manner the feeding of the poor, as belonging
especially to the Religious. It is part of the mediæval mind that the
poor do so belong to the monastic orders and not to the laity. When,
therefore, the Houses were suppressed, the modern spirit of Charity had
to be actually created in the hearts of the people. It was then that
the education in philanthropy began which has been going on ever since.

This outburst of Stubbes is a first lesson in brotherly love. Another
part of the same lesson is his tirade against hard-hearted creditors,
which is quoted here, because it applies especially to the citizens of
London, tender and compassionate in some respects, but flinty-hearted
as regards the poor prisoners who cannot pay their debts:—

  “Believe me, it greeveth me to heare (walking in the streetes)
  the pitifull cryes and miserable complayntes of poore prisoners
  in durance for debte, and like so to continue all their life,
  destitute of libertie, meate, drink (though of the meanest sort),
  and clothing to their backes, lying in filthie straw and lothsome
  dung, worse than anie dogge, voyde of all charitable consolation
  and brotherly comfort in this world, wishing and thirsting after
  deathe to set them at libertie, and loose them from their shackles,
  gives, and iron bandes. Notwithstanding, these merciless tygers
  (the usurers) are grown to such barbarous crueltie that they blush
  not to say ‘tush, he shall eyther pay me the whole, or else lye
  there till his heeles rotte from his buttocks; and, before I will
  release him, I will make dice of his bones.’ But, take heed, thou
  devil (for I dare not call thee Christian), least the Lord say to
  thee, as hee sayd to that wicked servant (who, having great summes
  forgiven him, would not forgive his brother his small debt, but,
  catching him by the throate, sayd Paie that thou owest), Binde him
  handes and feete, and cast him into utter darknesse, where shall
  bee weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

The charities of London consisted of Hospitals for the sick,
almshouses, schools, and doles for the poor. It was customary for great
men, ecclesiastics, and Religious Houses, to give every day large
quantities of food to the poor, whereby they were encouraged to remain
poor. Stow records many instances of this mischievous and promiscuous
charity. Henry II., for instance, to show his repentance for the death
of the Archbishop, fed every day 10,000 persons from the first of April
till the harvest, a time of year when food is dearest and scarcest.

Let me follow Stow’s list of Foundations in chronological order.

1. In very ancient times the Hospital of St. James for leprous women.

2. In 1197 Domus Dei, or St. Mary Spital, outside Billingsgate.

3. In 1247 the Hospital of St. Mary Bethlehem turned afterwards into a
lunatic asylum.

4. 1322 Elsing Spital for 100 poor men.

5. 1337 The College of St. Laurence Poultney.

6. 1358 The Almshouses of Stodies Lane.

7. 1367 John Lofken’s Hospital at Kingston-on-Thames.

8. 1384 John Philpot’s Almshouses for 13 poor people.

9. 1400 Thomas Knoles bequeathed his house as an almshouse.

10. Whittington’s College (1421), an almshouse for 13 poor men.

11. John Carpenter, almshouse for 4 poor men.

12. Robert Chicheley money for a dinner to 2400 poor men and twopence
each on his “minde day.”

13. Philip Malpas, numerous benefactions to prisoners, poor folk,
girls’ marriage portions, etc.

14. Richard Rawson, girls’ marriage portions.

15. Henry Keble, girls’ marriage portions and seven almshouses.

16. John Colet, St. Paul’s School, 353 poor men’s children.

17. John Tate enlarged and increased St. Anthony’s House and Almshouses.

18. George Monox, almshouses for 13 poor people at Walthamstow.

19. John Milbourne, almshouses for 14 poor people.

20. John Allen left rents for the use of the poor.

21. Andrew Judd, almshouses.

22. Richard Hills, the Merchant Taylors’ School.

23. Sir Thomas Gresham, almshouses.

24. Sir Thomas Rowe, almshouses.

25. Ambrose Nicolas, almshouses.

26. John Fuller, almshouses.

27. Dame Agnes Foster, enlargement of Ludgate Hill Prison.

28. Avice Gibson, almshouses.

29. Margaret Danne, money to be lent to young men beginning as
ironmongers.

30. Dame Mary Ramsay, endowment of Christ’s Hospital.

The following are later endowments. Thus Sir Thomas White, citizen and
Merchant Taylor, Mayor, purchased Gloucester Hall at Oxford; he founded
St. John’s College there; he erected schools at Bristol and Reading;
to Bristol he gave £2000 for the purchase of lands. This would produce
£120 a year, which was to be administered by the Mayor of Bristol. He
gave £800 to be lent to 16 poor Clothiers at £50 apiece as security for
ten years, and after that the money to pass to other towns, _i.e._

  1579 Reading
  1580 The Merchant Taylors’ Company
  1581 Gloucester
  1582 Worcester
  1583 Exeter
  1584 Salisbury
  1585 Westchester
  1586 Norwich
  1587 Southampton
  1588 Lincoln
  1589 Winchester
  1590 Oxford
  1591 Hereford
  1592 Cambridge
  1593 Shrewsbury
  1594 Lynn
  1595 Bath
  1596 Derby
  1597 Ipswich
  1598 Colchester
  1599 Newcastle.

He gave to the City of Coventry £1400 with which to purchase lands to
the annual value of £70. Twelve poor men to have 40s. each free alms;
then four young men were to have loans of £10 for nine years. He did
the same thing for Northampton, for Leicester, and for Warwick. A
worthy benefactor, indeed!

In 1560 Richard Hills gave £500 towards the purchase of a house called
the Manor of the Rose, where the Merchant Taylors founded their
school. At the same time William Lambert, Draper, Justice of the Peace
in Kent, founded an almshouse for the poor in East Greenwich called
Queen Elizabeth’s Almshouses.

In 1568 Sir Thomas Rowe gave the City a new burial-ground by Bethlehem
Hospital; he also endowed a sermon every Whit Monday; gave £100 to be
lent to eight poor men; and founded an endowment for the support of ten
poor men, giving them four pounds a year.

William Lambe was a benefactor to the City in the sixteenth century.
He was a cloth worker by trade. In the year 1543, on the suppression
of the Religious Houses, he obtained possession by purchase of the
smallest of them all, the Chapel or Hermitage standing at the corner
of the wall at the end of Monkwell Street. It was called St. James’s
in the Wall, and was endowed by Henry the Third. Lambe repaired or
rebuilt the Chapel, and placed in the former garden or in the ancient
buildings certain almshouses for bedesmen. In 1577 he died, leaving
this foundation and other sums of money to the Clothworkers. The Great
Fire spared a part of Lambe’s Chapel and Almshouses.

Lambe also drew together several springs of water near the present
Foundling Hospital to a head, called after him Lamb’s Conduit, though
the name is now spelt without the “e.” He then conveyed the water by
leaden pipes to Snow Hill, where he rebuilt a ruinous conduit and laid
in the water.

“He also founded a Free Grammar School at _Sutton Valens_, the Place of
his Nativity, in _Kent_, with a master at £20, and an Usher at £10 per
Ann. and an Alms-house for six poor people, endowed with £10 yearly.
He gave £10 per Ann. to the Free School at _Maidstone_ in _Kent_, for
the Education of needy Men’s Children; three hundred pounds to the poor
Clothiers in _Suffolk_, _Bridgnorth_ and _Ludlow_ in _Shropshire_. He
left to the Clothworkers’ Company his Dwelling-House, a little to the
South-West of _Cripplegate_, with Lands and Tenements to the value of
£30 per Ann. for paying a Minister to read Divine Service on _Sundays_,
_Wednesdays_, and _Fridays_, every week, in the Chapel adjoining to
his House, called St. _James_, in the Wall by _Cripplegate_; and for
Clothing twelve Men with a Frize Gown, one Lockram Shirt, and a good
strong pair of Winter Shoes; and twelve Women with a Frize Gown, a
Lockram Smock, and a good pair of Winter Shoes, all ready made for
wearing; to be given to such as are poor and honest, on the first of
October. He also gave £15 towards the Bells and Chimes of St. Giles’s
Without _Cripplegate_; £6:13:4 yearly to the Company of Stationers,
for the relief of twelve poor People of the Parish of St. _Faith_,
under _Paul’s_, at the rate of 12d. in Money, and 12d. in Bread, to
each of them, on every Friday through the year; £6 per Ann. and £100
to purchase Land, for the Relief of Children in _Christ’s_ Hospital;
£4 to St. _Thomas’s_ Hospital in _Southwark_; besides some other
Charities to the Prisons, and for portioning poor Maids.” (Maitland,
vol. i. p. 264.)

It will be seen that the building of almshouses was the favourite
method of charitable endowment. Schools were occasionally endowed
but not so commonly as almshouses. The sight of an old man broken
down, unable to earn his bread, is one which appeals to the most
hard-hearted. The necessity of educating the young was less understood,
for the simple reason that the children of the working class were
regarded as simply growing machines for labour, just as their fathers
were regarded as machines in active working order whose opinions or
wishes were never so much as asked, while any effort on their part
to express an opinion was put down at once. This view of the working
classes, which lasted till the middle of the nineteenth century,
explains a great deal of what we now consider apathy on the part of
those who should have known better; it explains among other things the
opposition to reform, and the jealousy and dread of the working class;
and it explains why so few schools were endowed in comparison with the
number of almshouses.




                              CHAPTER IX

                         CRIME AND PUNISHMENT


The divers kinds of punishment and the laws are set forth by Harrison
(Holinshed, vol. i.):—

“The greatest and most greevous punishment used in England, for such
as offend against the state, is drawing from the prison to the place
of execution upon an hurdle or sled, where they are hanged till they
be halfe dead, and then taken downe and quartered alive, after that
their members and bowels are cut from their bodies and throwne into
a fire provided neere hand and within their one sight even for the
same purpose. Sometimes if the trespasse be not the more hainous, they
are suffered to hang till they be quite dead. And whensoever any of
the nobilitie are convicted of high treason by their peeres, that is
to saie, equals (for an inquest of yeomen passeth not upon them, but
onlie of the lords of the parliament) this maner of their death is
converted into the losse of their heads onlie, notwithstanding that the
sentence doo run after the former order. In triall of cases concerning
treason, fellonie, or anie other greevous crime not confessed, the
partie accused doth yeeld, if he be a nobleman, to be tried by an
inquest (as I have said) and his peeres; if a gentleman, by gentlemen;
and an inferiour by God and by the countrie, to wit the yeomanrie
(so combat or battle is not greatlie in use) and being condemned of
fellonie, manslaughter, etc., he is eftsoons hanged by the necke till
he be dead, and then cut downe and buried. But if he is convicted of
wilful murder, doone either upon pretended malice, or in anie notable
robberie, he is either hanged alive in chains neere the place where the
fact was committed (or else upon compassion taken first strangled with
a rope) and so continueth till his bonds consume to nothing. We have
use neither of the wheele nor of the barre, as in other countries, but
when wilful manslaughter is perpetrated, beside hanging, the offender
hath his right hand commonlie striken off before or neere unto the
place where the act was doone, after which he is led forth to the place
of execution, and there put to death according to the law.” (_See_
Appendix X.)

Felony was involved in various kinds of crime: such as breach of
prison; disfiguring the person; robbery in disguise; rape; conspiracy
against the prince; embezzlement of the master’s money; carrying
horses into Scotland; stealing hawks’ eggs; unnatural offences;
witchcraft, conjuring, sorcery, and digging up of crosses; prophesying
upon arms, cognizances, names and badges; casting of slanderous bills;
poisoning; desertion; clipping of coin; taking goods from dead men;
highway robbery; stealing of deer; forging documents, etc., these were
all, with some others, felony.

“If a woman poison her husband she is burned alive, if the servant kill
his master he is to be executed for petie treason, he that poisoneth
a man is to be boiled to death either in water or lead, although the
partie die not of the practise; in cases of murther all the accessories
are to suffer paines of death accordingly. Perjury is punished by the
pillorie burning in the forehead with the letter P, the rewalting[15]
of the trees growing upon the grounds of the offendors and losse of all
his moveables. Manie trespasses also are punished by the cutting of
one or both eares from the head of the offendor, as the utterance of
seditious words against the magistrates, grain makers, petie robbers,
etc. Roges are burned through the eares, carriers of sheep out of the
land by the loss of their hands, such as kill by poison are either
boiled or skalded to death in lead or seething water. Heretikes are
burned quicke, harlots and their mates by carting, ducking, and dooing
of open penance in sheets, in churches and market steeds are often
put to rebuke.... Roges and vagabonds are often stocked and whipped,
scolds are ducked upon cucking stooles in the water. Such fellons as
stand mute and speak not at their arraignement are pressed to death
by huge weights laid upon a boord, that lieth over their brest, and a
sharpe stone under their backs, and these commonlie hold their peace,
thereby to save their goods unto their wives and children, which if
they were condemned should be confiscated to the prince. Theeves that
are saved by their bookes and cleargie, for the first offense, if they
have stolen nothing else but oxen, sheepe, monie, or such like, which
be no open robberies, as by the high waie side or assailing of any
man’s house in the night, without putting him in fear of his life,
or breaking up of his wals or doores, are burned in the left hand,
upon the brawne of the thumb with an hot iron, so that if they be
apprehended againe, that marke bewraieth them to have been arraigned of
fellonie before, whereby they are sure at that time to have no mercie.
I doo not read that this custom of saving by the book is used anywhere
else than in England, neither doo I find (after much diligent enquirie)
what Saxon prince ordained that law.... Our third annoiers of the
common-wealth are roges, which doo verie great mischief in all places
where they doo become. For whereas the rich onlie suffer injurie by
the first two, these spare neither riche nor poore; but whether it be
great game or small, all is fish that commeth to net with them, and yet
I saie that both they and the rest are trussed up apace. For there is
not one yeare commonlie, wherein three hundred or four hundred of them
are not devoured and eaten up by the gallowes in one place and other.
It appearth by Cardane (who writeth it upon the report of the bishop
of Lexouia) in the geniture of King Edward the sixt, how Henrie the
eight, executing his laws verie severelie against such idle persons, I
meane great theeves, pettie theeves and roges, did hang up threescore
and twelve thousand of them in his time. He seemed for a while greatlie
to have terrified the rest; but since his death the number of them is
so increased, yea although we have had no warres, which are a great
occasion of their breed (for it is the custom of the more idel sort,
having but once served or seen the other side of the sea under colour
of service to shake hand with labour, for ever, thinking it a disgrace
for himself to return unto his former trade) that except some better
order be taken, or the lawes be better made to be executed, such as
dwell in uplandish towns and little villages shall live but in small
safety and rest. For the better apprehension also of theeves and
mankillers, there is an old law in England very well provided, whereby
it is ordered, that if he that is robbed, or any man complaine and give
warning of slaughter or murder committed, the constable of the village
whereunto he cometh and crieth for succour, is to raise the parish
about him, and to search woods, groves, and all suspected houses and
places, where the trespasser may be, or is supposed to lurke; and not
finding him there, he is to give warning unto the next constable, and
so one constable after serch made to advertise another from parish to
parish, till they come to the same where the offender is harbored and
found. It is also provided, that if anie parish in this business doo
not his dutie, but suffereth the theefe (for the avoiding of trouble
sake) in carrieng him to the gaile, if he should be apprehended, or
other letting of their worke, to escape the same parish, is not onlie
to make fine to the king, but also the same with the whole hundred
wherein it standeth, to repaie the partie robbed his damages, and leave
his estate harmlesse. Certes this is a good law, howbeit I have knowne
by mine owne experience, fellons being taken to have escaped out of the
stocks, being rescued by other for want of watch and ward, that theeves
have been let passe, bicause the covetous and greedie parishoners would
neither take the paines, nor be at the charge to carrie them to prison,
if it were far off, that when hue and crie have beene made even to the
faces of some constables, they have said: ‘God restore your losse, I
have other business at this time!’ And by such meanes the meaning of
manie a good law is left unexecuted, malefactors imboldened, and manie
a poore man turned out of that which he hath swet and taken great
paines for, toward the maintenance of himself and his poore children
and familie.” (Holinshed, vol. i.)

[Illustration: THE PILLORY

From a historical print in the British Museum.]

Among the punishments mentioned above was that of boiling alive.
One unfortunate, named Rose, a cook in the house of the Bishop of
Rochester, poisoned eighteen persons, of whom two died. He seems
to have done this wilfully. He was boiled to death. This fearful
punishment was inflicted by lowering the criminal slowly, inch by inch,
affixed to a post into a deep caldron full of boiling water. How long
the torture lasted before the heart stopped is not recorded.

The penalty for bloodshed in the King’s Court was the loss of the right
hand. The ceremony observed for such a punishment made a ritual of a
remarkable and imposing ceremony.

The offender, to quote Pike (_History of Crime_, vol. ii. p. 83), “was
brought in by the Marshal, and every stage of the proceedings was under
the direction of some member of the royal household. The first whose
services were required was the Serjeant of the Woodyard, who brought
in a block and cords, and bound the condemned hand in a convenient
position. The Master Cook was there with a dressing knife, which he
handed to the Serjeant of the Larder, who adjusted it, and held it
‘till the execution was done.’ The Serjeant of the Poultry was close
by with a cock, which was to have its head cut off on the block by the
knife used for the amputation of the hand, and the body of which was
afterwards to be used to ‘wrap about the stump.’ The Yeoman of the
Scullery stood near, watching a fire of coals, and the Serjeant Farrier
at his elbow to deliver the searing-irons to the surgeon. The chief
Surgeon seared the stump, and the Groom of the Salcery held vinegar
and cold water, to be used, perhaps, if the patient should faint. The
Serjeant of the Ewry and the Yeoman of the Chandry attended with basin,
cloths, and towels for the surgeon’s use. After the hand had been
struck off and the stump seared, the Serjeant of the Pantry offered
bread, and the Serjeant of the Cellar offered a pot of red wine, of
which the sufferer was to partake with what appetite he might.”

[Illustration:

  _On the off hip of the Croupière_.
  EXECUTION OF A SAINT

  _On the near side of the Croupière_.
  MARTYRDOM OF A SAINT

  _On the off side of the Croupière_.
  THE STORY OF ST. AGATHA

  _On the off side of the Croupière_.
  FURTHER PUNISHMENT OF ST. AGATHA

  _On the near side of the Croupière_.
  TORTURE OF ST. GEORGE

  _On the near hip of the Croupière_.
  BEHEADING OF A FEMALE SAINT

From the engravings upon Henry VIII.’s Armour in the Tower of London.]

Pickpockets, still called cutpurses, abounded. They formed a distinct
profession; there was even a school for them. This educational
establishment was carried on by a certain man named Wotton, at a house
near Billingsgate, in the year 1585. Purses were worn at the girdle,
attached by a chain or by a leathern string, and the pickpocket could
be known by the horn thimble worn on the right thumb to protect it from
the knife with which he cut the purse. Maitland says (p. 269):—

  “Amongest our travells this one matter tumbled owt by the waye,
  that one Wotton, a gentilman borne, kepte an Alehowse att Smarts
  Keye neere Byllingsgate, and reared upp a newe trade of lyffe,
  and in the same howse he procured all the Cuttpurses abowt this
  Cittie to repair to his said howse. There was a Schole Howse sett
  upp to learne younge boyes to cutt purses. There were hunge up two
  devices, the one was a pockett, the other was a purse. The pocket
  had in yt certen cownters, and was hunge abowte with hawkes bells,
  and over the toppe did hannge a little sacringe bell; the purse
  had silver in it; and he that could take owt a cownter without any
  noyse was allowed to be a publique ffoyster, and he that could take
  a peece of sylver owt of the purse without the noyse of any of the
  bells, he was adjudged a judiciall Nypper. Note that a ffoyster is
  a Pickpocte and a Nypper is termed a Pickepurse or a Cutpurse.”

Among the many additions to Literature made during the Elizabethan age
we have as detailed a description of the rogues, vagabonds, and the
criminal class in London as we can desire. Their tricks and cheats;
their way of living; their language or slang, can all be read in books
of the time. Harrison, already quoted, furnishes a great deal; more
may be read in Awdeley, Harman and Rowlands, Dekker, etc. To spare the
curious reader a great deal of trouble, he is referred to Furnivall’s
_Rogues and Vagabonds of Shakspere’s Youth_.

Harman’s account of these cheats and rogues is full of entertaining
anecdotes. For instance, there is the story of the robbery of his
cauldron by the “Upryght men,” and how he recovered it:—

  “I lately had standinge in my well house, which standeth on the
  backeside of my house, a great cawdron of copper, beinge then full
  of water, havinge in the same halfe a doson of pewter dishes, well
  marked, and stamped with the connizance of my armes, whiche being
  well noted when they were taken out, were set aside, the water
  powred out, and my caudren taken awaye, being of such bygnes that
  one man, unlesse he were of great strength, was not able far to
  cary the same. Notwithstandynge, the same was one night within
  this two yeares convayed more than half a myle from my house into
  a commen or heth, and ther bestowed in a great firbushe. I then
  immediatly the next day sent one of my men to London, and there
  gave warning in Sothwarke, kent strete, and Barmesey streete, to
  all the Tynckars there dwelling. That if any such Caudron came
  thether to be sold, the bringar therof should be stayed, and
  promised twenty shyllings for a reward. I gave also intelligence
  to the water men that kept the ferres, that no such vessel should
  be ether convayed to London or into essex, promysing the like
  reward, to have understanding therof. This my doing was well
  understand in many places about, and that the feare of espyinge
  so troubled the conscience of the stealer, that my caudoren laye
  untouched in the thicke firbushe more than halfe a yeare after,
  which, by a great chaunce, was found by hunters for conneys; for
  one chaunced to runne into the same bushe where my caudren was,
  and being perceaved, one thrust his staffe into the same bushe,
  and hyt my caudren a great blowe, the sound whereof dyd cause the
  man to thinke and hope that there was some great treasure hidden,
  wherby he thought to be the better whyle he lyved. And in farther
  searching he found my caudren; so had I the same agayne unloked
  for.”

The Hooker or Angler was one who by day walked about the streets,
observing the windows and what was kept in them. At night he carried a
stick fitted with a hook. He opened the window from the outside, and
by means of his hook got out what he wanted. Once, says Harman, the
Hookers dragged from a bed, in which lay asleep a man and two boys, the
blankets and upper sheets, leaving them in their shirts.

[Illustration: BILLINGESGATE]

The Rogue professed a part and dressed up to it. Harman tells a story
of two rogues who wanted to break into a house but could not, because
it was of stone, with the mullions of the windows too close for them to
creep in. They had, however, a “horse-lock.” They woke up the tenant,
who had with him only an old woman, and begged for alms. He opened the
window and held out his hand with a penny in it. They seized his hand:
he naturally thrust out the other to succour the first; they seized
that as well, and clasped the two into the horse-lock, so that he was a
prisoner until he gave up all the money in the house.

The “wild” Rogue is a variety distinguished by greater courage. Harman
quotes one as a beggar by inheritance. “His grandfather was a beggar;
his father was one; and he must needs be one by good reason.”

The “Prygger of Prauncers” was a horse-stealer; the Pallyard of
Clapperdogen was one of the counterfeit sick men; he knew how to raise
blisters, and to create a sore place by means of spearwort or ratsbane.
The former raises a blister which passes away in a night; the latter a
sore place that is incurable.

The Frater—in the name we seem to catch a memory of the extinct
Friar—carried at his girdle a black box, in which there was a licence
(forged) to beg.

The Abram man was one who feigned to have been mad, and to have been
kept in Bedlam for a term of years.

The Freshwater Mariner or Whipjack was a beggar who pretended to be a
sailor on his way to get a ship; or who had recently been shipwrecked;
or who had been robbed by pirates; and who showed a forged writing
signed, as it seemed, by men of substance and position confirming his
story.

The Counterfeit Crank was a pretended epileptic. He carried a piece
of white soap, which he put into his mouth to represent the epileptic
foam. Harman draws a lively picture of such a man. He begged about the
Temple, his face covered with blood and his rags with mud and dirt. At
noon he repaired to the back of Clement’s Inn, where in a lane leading
to the fields he renewed the blood on his face from a bladder which he
had with him, and daubed his jerkin and hose again with mud. A certain
printer watched him: in the evening he took a boat across the river;
the printer followed him and caused him to be taken up in St. George’s
Fields as a common beggar. They took him to the Constable’s house,
where they stripped off his rags, showing him to be a healthy and
comely man with no sign of any disease; in his pockets they found the
sum of thirteen shillings, three pence, and a halfpenny; they gave him
an old cloak of the Constable’s, in which he sat by the fire and drank
three quarts of beer; after which he threw off the cloak and ran away
naked. But they found out where he lived, viz. in a “pretty house, well
stuffed, with a fair joined table, and a fair cupboard garnished with
pewter.” So they took him to Bridewell, where they painted him, first
in his disguise, and next in his proper attire. Then they whipped him
through London and brought him back to Bridewell, where he stayed till
they thought fit to let him go.

The Dommerar pretended to be dumb: he carried a forged licence, and
generally pretended to have lost his tongue. One of them was, unluckily
for himself, caught by a surgeon, who proved that he had a tongue
though he had neatly folded it away somewhere; and as the fellow still
would not speak, the surgeon tortured him till he did. This done, they
haled him before the magistrate, who administered the usual medicine.

The Drunken Tinker’s career may be dismissed; so may that of the
Pedlar; the Jackman made false writings and forgeries.

The “Demander for Glymmar” was a woman who pretended to have been
burned out, and carried a begging licence.

The Basket women carried laces, pins, needles and girdles for sale.
They bought coney skins and they stole linen from the hedges.

The “Autem Morte” and the “Walking Morte” were also pedlars, and of
evil repute.

The Doxy was the companion and the confederate of the Upright Man.

The Dell, the Kynchen Morte, and the Kynchen Cove were boys and girls
in training for the life of the vagabond.

Queen Elizabeth was fond of driving into the country as well as going
upon the river. One summer evening she rode out from Aldersgate, along
the road now called Goswell Road, towards the village of Iseldon or
Islington. Just outside the town she was surrounded and beset by a
number of beggars, to her great annoyance. Wherefore she sent her
running footman, Stone, to the Mayor and to the Recorder complaining
of this nuisance. The Recorder sent out warrants that same night to
the quarters complained of, and into Westminster, with the result that
seventy-four beggars were apprehended and sent to Bridewell, where they
were “punished” (_i.e._ soundly flogged). Some of them were found to be
very rich and usurers.

The mob under Elizabeth did not venture in assemblies on acts of
violence. One or two exceptions must be made. Once an armed company,
headed by gentlemen, attacked Bridewell. Seeing that their object was
the release of certain unrepentant women whose profession concerned
the gentlemen only, it is probable that the whole of the rioters were
gentlemen. On another occasion the ’prentices rose against foreigners.
Instances of hatred between Spanish residents and citizens of London
are common in the pages of Machyn. Thus on October 15, 1554, a Spaniard
killed a servant of Sir George Gifford without Temple Bar. The cause
of the quarrel is not stated. Ten days afterwards the unfortunate
foreigner was hanged at Charing Cross. On the 4th of November following
there was a great fray at Charing Cross between Spaniards and English.
Not many were hurt, and those who began it were arrested, especially
a blackamoor. In January another Englishman was murdered by three
Spaniards, two of whom held him while the other ran him through. In
April was hanged a certain person, servant to a poulterer. He robbed a
Spaniard in Westminster Abbey, and for the offence was condemned to be
hanged for three days, and then to be buried under the gallows. He was
hanged in a gown of tawny frieze, and a doublet of tawny taffeta, with
hose lined with sarcenet. Before being turned off he railed at the Pope
and the Mass.

Of street violence there was still a great deal, but not so much as
formerly. The following letter speaks for itself.

  “On Thursday laste (Feb. 13th 1587) as my Lorde Rytche was rydynge
  in the streates, there was one Wyndam that stode in a dore, and
  shotte a dagge at him, thynkynge to have slayne him; but God
  provyded so for my L. Rytche that this Wyndam apoyntynge his
  servant that mornynge to charge his dagge with 11 bulletts, the
  fellow, doubtinge he mente to doe sum myschefe with it, charged
  it only with powder and paper, and no bullett; and so this L.’s
  lyfe was thereby saved, for otherwyse he had beene slayne. Wyndam
  was presently taken by my Lord Rytche’s men, and, beynge broughte
  before the Counsell, confessed his intende, but the cause of his
  quarrell I knowne not; but he is commyted to the Towre. The same
  daye also, as Sir John Conway was goynge in the streetes, Mr.
  Lodovyke Grevell came sodenly uppon him, and stroke him on the
  hedd with a sworde, and but for one of Sir John Conwaye’s men,
  who warded the blow, he had cutt off his legges; yet did he hurte
  him sumwhat on bothe his shynns; the Councelor sente for Lodovyke
  Grevell and have commytted him to the Marchallcye.” (Drake,
  _Shakespeare and his Times_, vol. ii.)

The cucking-stool, trebucket, or tumbril, for the ducking of a scold,
was commonly found in every village. There were several kinds of it.
One was a chair set at the end of a braser which acted on a see-saw
principle; one a stump put into the ground at the edge of the water.
Another was a “standard” fixed at the entrance of a pond. To this
was attached a long pole, at the extremity of which was fastened the
chair. Such an one stood almost within the memory of man at the great
reservoir in the Green Park. Another kind was a sort of cart on four
wheels, with a braser, at the end of which was the chair. All over
Oxford these things are found, also at Wootton Bassett, Broad Water
Worthing, Leominster, Marlborough, Newbury, Scarborough, Warwick,
Ipswich. In 1777 a woman was ducked at Whitchurch.

The trial of Ben Jonson, an account of which has been recovered by Mr.
John Cordy Jeafferson for the Middlesex County Record Society, began
with the inquest on the body of one James Feake, held in Holywell
Street, St. Leonard’s Shoreditch, in the thirty-ninth year of Queen
Elizabeth, and on the 10th day of December. The said James Feake was
killed in a brawl by one Gabriel Spencer, who struck him with his
sword in its scabbard in the right eye, so that he fell down, and
after languishing for three days, died of the wound. What was done to
Gabriel Spencer does not appear. Perhaps the case was treated as one of
self-defence. However, Gabriel Spencer presently met with his reward.
For in the month of September following, viz. in 1598, the said Gabriel
fell to quarrelling with a young man named Ben Jonson, in Shoreditch,
or Hoxton Fields; from words they quickly came to blows, and Gabriel
was pierced by Ben Jonson’s sword through the right side, so that he
died immediately. Jonson was thrown into prison and was tried for
manslaughter, not for murder. He pleaded guilty; he also pleaded his
clergy, read his “neck-verse,” and was released in accordance with the
statute 18 Eliz. c. 7, after being branded in the hand with what the
London people called the Tyburn T.

I have found one instance, the earliest, of a kind of transportation.
Among Frobisher’s Company were six men condemned to death. Their
sentence was commuted into banishment. They were sent on board
Frobisher’s ship, to be landed on the shores of “Freezeland,” that
is Greenland or Labrador, with weapons and provisions. They were
instructed to win the good-will and friendship of the natives and to
inquire into their “estate.” In other words, to find out all that could
be learned concerning them. It is unfortunate that history makes no
further mention of these pioneers.

[Illustration: THE CUCKING-STOOL.

From an old print in the British Museum.]

The story of Thomas Appletree: his terrible accident; his deadly peril;
his repentance; and his pardon, is pathetic. I suffer Stow to tell it
in his own words:—

“The seventeenth day of July, the Queenes moste excellent Maiestie,
being in ye river of Thamis, betwixt hir Highnesse Mannour of
Greenewiche and Detteforde, in hur privie Barge, accompanyed with
Monsier Schemere the French Embassadour, the Earle of Lincolne, and
Maister Vizchamberlaine, etc., with whim she entred discourse about
waightie affaires; it chanced that one Thomas Appletree, a yong man
and servant to Maister Henrie Carie, with two or three children of hir
Maiesties Chappell, and one other named Barnard Acton, being in a Boate
on the Thamis, rowing up and downe betwixte the places above named,
the foresaide Thomas Appletree hadde a Caliver or Harquebuze, whych he
hadde three or foure times discharged with Bullet, shooting at randone
very rashly, who by greate misfortune shot one of the Watermen, being
the seconde man nexte unto the Bales of the saide Barge, labouring
with hys Oare (whyche sate wythin five feete of hir Highnesse), cleane
through bothe hys armes; the blowe was so greate and greevous, that it
moved him out of his place, and forced hym to crye and scritche oute
piteouslye, supposing hymselfe to be slain, and saying, he was shot
through the body. The man bleeding abundantly, as though he had had 100
Daggers thrust into hym, the Queenes Maiestie showed such noble courage
as is moste wonderfull to be heard and spoken of, for beholding hym so
maimed, and bleding in such force, she never bashed thereat, but shewed
effectually a prudent and magnanimous heart, and moste courteously
comforting the pore man, she bad hym be of good cheere, and saide hee
should want nothing that might bee for his ease, commaunding hym to
be covered till such time as hee came to the shoare, till which time
hee lay bathing in his owne bloud, which might have been an occasion
to have terrified the eyes of the beholders. But such and so great
was the courage and magnanimitie of our dread and soveraigne Ladie,
that it never quailed. To be short, Thomas Appletree and the rest were
apprehended and brought before her honorable Counsell, who with great
gravitie and wisedome employed their times verie carefully, and with
greate diligence examined the saide Appletree and his companions,
and finding the case moste hainous and wicked, justly pronounced
againste him the sentence of death, and commit him to the Marshalsea in
Southwarke, from whence ye Tuisday following hee was brought through
the Citie with the Knight Marshalles men, ledde up to the Tower Hill,
and so to Radcliffe upp to Blackwall, and so downe to the waterside,
where was a Gibet sett upp, directly placed betwixte Detforde and
Greenewiche, for the execution of this malefactour, who in deed verie
pitifully bewayled the offence hee had committed, and as well in prison
as by the waie prepared himselfe verie penitently and willingly to
offer his body to the death.

Thus verie godly hee purposed to finish his miserable and wretched
life, and so prepared himselfe to ascend and goe upp the Ladder, and
being on the same, he turned himselfe, and spake to the people as
followeth: Good people, I am come hither to die, but God is my Judge, I
never in my life intended hurt to the Queenes Most excellent Maiestie,
nor meant the harme of any creature, but I pray to God with all my
heart long to prosper and keepe her Highnes in health, who blesse and
defende her from all perilles and daungers, who prosper her in all her
affaires, and blesse her moste Honorable Counsell, giving them grace to
doe all things to the glorie of God, and the benefit of this realme;
but of all things I am moste sorie for my offence, and wofully bewaile
the same; and more, I am penitent and sorie for my good Maister,
Maister Henrie Carie, who hath been so grieved for my fault, suffering
rebuke for the same: I would to God I had never been borne that have
so grievously offended him. And with that the teares gusht oute of
his eyes verie faste. This saide, hee persuaded all men to serve God,
and to take an example by him, and every night and morning moved them
devoutly to say the Lord’s Prayer. And as the executioner had put the
rope about his necke, the people cried stay, stay, stay, and with that
came the right Honorable sir Christopher Hatton, Vizchamberlaine to
her highnes, who enquired what hee had confessed, and being certified,
as is before expressed, hee bailed his bonet, and declared, that the
Queenes Maiestie had sent him thither both to make the cause open to
them how hainous and greevous the offence of ye said Thomas Appletree
was, and further to signify to him her gracious pleasure; and so
continued his message, as ye may reade it printed by itself, and
annexed to this discourse. Which, when he had declared, the hangman
was commanded to take the roape from his necke. Appletree being come
downe from the Ladder, received his pardon, and gave God and the Prince
praise for so great a benefite as he had by her moste gracious bountie
received. This done, Maister Vizchamberlaine saide: Good people pray
for the Queenes Maiestie, and then was this prayer saide, which is
usually reade (for the preservation of her Maiestie) in the Church: O
Almighty and everlasting God, the Lord of Lords, and King of Kings,
which dost fro’ thy throne behold all the dwellers of the earth, most
heartily we beseech thee with thy favour to behold our moste gracious
soveraigne lady Queen Elizabeth, etc. Whereunto all the people joyfully
accorded to saye Amen, crying, God save the Queen: casting up their
Cappes.” (Stow’s _Chronicles of England_.)

One of the last cases of ordeal by battle belongs to the year 1571.

“The eighteenth of June, in Trinitie terme, there was a combat
appointed to have been fought for a certeine manour and demaine
lands belonging thereunto in the Ile of Hartie, adjoining to the Ile
of Shepie in Kent. Simon Low and John Kime were plaintifs, and had
brought a writ of right against Thomas Paramore, who offered to defend
his right by battell. Whereupon the plaintiffs aforesaid accepted to
answer his challenge, offering likewise to defend their right to the
same manour and lands, and to prove by battell, that Paramore had no
right nor good title to have the same manour and lands. Hereupon the
said Thomas Paramore brought before the judges of the common plees of
Westminster, one George Thorne, a big, broad, strong set fellow; and
the plaintifs Henrie Nailer, maister of defense, and servant to the
right honourable the earle of Leicester, a proper slender man, and not
so tall as the other. Thorne cast downe a gantlet, which Nailer tooke
up, upon the sundaie before the battell should be tried. On the next
morow, the matter was staied, and the parties agreed, that Paramore
being in possession should have the land, and was bound in five hundred
pounds to consider the plaintifs, as upon hearing the matter the judges
should award. The queens majestie abhorring bloodshed, and (as the poet
very well saith)

    “Tristia sanguinei deuitans praelia campi”

was the taker up of the matter, in this wise. It was thought good,
that for Paramore’s assurance, the order should be kept touching
the combat, and that the plaintifs Low and Kime should make default
of appearance; but that yet such as were sureties for Nailer their
champions appearance, should bring him in; and likewise those that were
sureties for Thorne, should bring in the same Thorne, in discharge of
their band; and that the court should sit in Tuthill Fields where was
prepared one plot of ground of one and twentie yards square, double
railed for the combat. Without the west square a stage being set up for
the judges, representing the court of the common plees.

All the compasse without the lists was set with scaffolds one above
another, for people to stand and behold. There were behind the square
where the judges sat, two tents, the one for Nailer, the other for
Thorne. Thorne was there in the morning timelie, Nailer about seven
of the clock came through London, apparelled in a doublet, and gallie
gascoine breeches all of crimsin satin, cut and rased, a hat of blacke
velvet, with a red feather and band, before him drums and fifes
plaieng. The gantlet cast downe by George Thorne was borne before
the said Nailer upon a sword’s point, and his baston (a staffe of an
ell long, made taper wise, tipt with horne) with his shield of hard
leather was borne after him, as Askam a yeoman of the queenes gard.
He came into the place at Westminster and staieng not long before the
hall door, came back into the king’s street, and so along thorough the
Sanctuarie and Tuthill street into the field, where he staied till past
nine of the clocke, and then Sir Jerome Bowes brought him to his tent:
Thorne being in the tent with Sir Henrie Cheinie long before.

About ten of the clocke, the court of common plees remooved, and came
to the place prepared. When the Lord chief Justice, with two other his
associates were set, then Low was called solemnlie to come in, or else
to lose his writ of right. Then after a certeine time, the suerties of
Henrie Nailer were called to bring in the said Nailer, champion for
Simon Low. And shortlie thereupon, Sir Jerome Bowes, leading Nailer by
the hand, entred with him the lists, bringing him downe that square by
which he entred, being on the left hand of the judges, and so about
till he came to the next square, just against the judges, and there
making courtesie, first with one leg and then with the other, passed
foorth till he came to the middle of the place, and then made the like
obeisance and so passing till they came to the barre, there he made
the like courtesie, and his shield was held up aloft over his head.
Nailer put off his netherstocks, and so barefoot and barelegged, save
his silke scauilones to the ankles, and his dublet sleeves tied up
above the elbow, and bareheaded, came in, as is aforesaid. Then were
the suerties of George Thorne called to bring in the same Thorne; and
immediately Sir Henry Cheinie entering at the upper end on the right
hand of the judges, used the like order in comming about by his side,
as Nailer had before on that other side; and so comming to the barre
with like obeisance, held up his shield. Proclamation was made that
none should touch the barres, nor presume to come within the same,
except such as were appointed.

After all this solemne order was finished, the lord chiefe justice
rehearsing the maner of bringing the writ of right by Simon Low, of
the answer made thereunto by Paramore, of the proceeding therein, and
how Paramore had challenged to defend his right to the land by battell,
by his champion Thomas Thorne, and of the accepting the triall that
was by Low with his champion Henrie Nailer; and then for default of
appearance in Low he adjudged the land to Paramore, and dismissed the
champion, acquiting the suerties of their bands. He also willed Henrie
Nailer to render againe to George Thorne his gantlet. Whereto the
said Nailer answered, that his lordship might command him anie thing,
but willingly he would not render the said gantlet to Thorne except
he could win it. And further he challenged the said Thorne to play
with him half a score blowes, to shew some pastime to the lord chiefe
justice and to the other there assembled. But Thorne answered, that
he came to fight, and would not plaie. Then the lord chiefe justice
commending Nailer for his valiant courage, commanded them both quietlie
to depart the field, etc.” (Stow’s _Chronicles of England_.)




                              APPENDICES




                              APPENDIX I

                             THAMES WATER


“Peter Morice, a Dutchman, in 1580 explained before the Lord Mayor
and Aldermen his invention for raising the Thames water high enough
to supply the upper parts of the City, and threw a jet of water over
the steeple of St. Magnus Church. Before this time no such thing had
been known in England. Whereupon the City granted him a lease for 500
years of the Thames water, and the places where his mills stood, and
of one of the arches of old London Bridge, at 10s. yearly. Two years
afterwards they granted him another arch on the same terms. He received
large grants from the City to help him to complete this curious system
of hydraulic mechanism. In the Act for rebuilding the City after the
Great Fire it was provided that Thomas Morris should have power to
rebuild with timber his water-house for supplying the City (18 & 19
Charles II. c. 8). The works continued in the family till 1701, when
they were sold for £36,000 to Richard Soames, and afterwards became the
property of a Company. On June 23rd, 1767, the fifth arch was granted
for the use of the Company. By Act of Parliament, 3 Geo. IV. cap. 109,
July 26th, 1822, the Acts relating to the Company were repealed. The
Company were to be paid £10,000, and their works to be removed by, or
at the expense of, the New River Company.” (_Remembrancia._)

This invention and the subsequent supply of the whole City with water
laid on, killed the Company of Water-bearers.

“The ‘Rules, Ordinances, and Statutes made by the Rulers, Wardens, and
Fellowship of the Brotherhood of Saint Cristofer of the Water-bearers
of London,’ are dated October 20th, 1496 (_Transactions of the London
and Middlesex Archæological Society_, vol. vi. p. 55). Their hall was
situated in Bishopsgate Street, near Sun Street, now numbered 143 and
144, Bishopsgate Street Without:—‘Robert Donkin, Citizen and Merchant
Taylor of London, left by his will, dated December 1st, 1570, that
messuage or howse which he purchased of the Company of Water-bearers on
the 9th of October, 1568.’”




                              APPENDIX II

                    SIR HUMPHREY GILBERT’S ACADEMY


In 1570 Sir Humphrey Gilbert laid before the Queen a plan for an
Academy or University of London.

His plan was as follows:—

“Seeing that young gentlemen resort most freely to London there should
be an Academy, viz.:—

  1. A master for G. and L., £40.
  2. Four Ushers at £20.
  3. One Hebrew at £50.
  4. One Logic and Rhetoric, £40.
     Exercise and instruction in English.
  5. One Reader of Moral Phil., £100.
  6.  „    „    „  Natural Phil., £40.
  7. Two mathematicians ea. at £100 {1. Arith., Geom., Fort.
                                    {2. Cosmog., Astronomy, Navigation.
  8. Two Ushers at £40.
  9. Riding Master.
  10. Drill Master, £66:13:4.
  11. Physician £100, with a garden.
  12. Reader of Civil Law, £100.
  13. Reader of Divinity, £100.
  14.   „    „  Law, £100.
  15. Teacher of French, £26; Spanish, £26; Italian, £26; Dutch, £26;
          with Ushers at £10.
  16. Master of Defence, £36.
  17. Dancing and Vaulting School, £26.
  18. Music, £26.
  19. Steward, Cooks, Butlers, etc., £600.
  20. Minister and Clerks, £66:13:4.
  21. Teacher of Heraldry, £26.
  22. Librarian, £26.
  23. Treasurer, £100.
  24. Rector.
      Amounting in all to £2966:13:4 a year.

“By erecting this academie, there shall be hereafter an effect, no
gentleman within the Realm but good for something; whereas now the most
parts of them are good for nothing. Your Majesty and your successive
Courtes shall be for ever, instead of a nurserie of idlenes, become a
most noble Academy of Chevallrie, Policy, and Philosophie.”




                             APPENDIX III

                        PETITION AGAINST ALIENS


“In most pitious and lamentable wise shewing and complaining unto your
most excellent highness, your humble, true and faithful subjects,
and contynualle orators, that is to sey, mercers, grocers, drapers,
goldsmythes, skynners, haberdassers, Taylers, ledyrsellers, pursers,
poyntmakers, glovers, powchemakers, Sadlers, Cutlers, pewterers,
Cowpers, gyrdlers, founders, Cordeners; vyntners, sporyars, joyners,
and all other Chapmen, retailers, occupiers of every craft, mystery,
and occupation, in all and every your Cities, ports, towns, and
boroughs within this noble realm of England. That where your said
realm and land is so inhabited with a great multitude, needy people,
strangers of divers nations, as Frenchmen, galymen, pycardis, flemings,
keteryckis, Spaynyars, Scottis, Lombards, and divers other nations,
that your liege people, Englishmen, cannot imagine nor tell wherto
nor to what occupation that they shalle use or put their children to
lerne or occupy within your said cities, boroughs, ports and towns of
this your said realm, with many other Chappmen and poor commons using
the said crafts, mysteries, and occupation in all and every shire of
this your said realm!... now it is so, most redoubted Sovereign lord,
that innumerable needy people of galymen, Frenchmen and other great
multitudes of alien strangers, do circuit, wander, go to and fro, in
every your Cities, ports, towns, and boroughs in all places, as well
within franchises, privileges, and liberties, as without, to every
man door, taking up standing, and there make their shows, markets and
sales of divers wares and merchandise to their own singular profits,
advantage, and advails, to the great disturbance, empoverishing,
hurt, loss, and utter undoing of your natural subjects and liege
people in all and every city, port, borough, town, and places of your
said realm: and also of more convenience for their advancement, the
said Aliens strangers use to hire them servants of their own nation,
or other strangers, or go about, wander, and retail in all cities,
ports, towns and boroughs, and all other places to bye, sell, retail,
and occupy seats and merchandise at their pleasure, without lawful
authority or license, contrary to the said acts and statutes afore
provided, and contrary to the Charters, liberties, constitutions, and
confirmations made, given, and granted by your said noble predecessor,
afore rehearsed: by means of which unlawful retailing so customably
haunted, used, and occupied, your liege people and natural subjects,
their wives, children, and servants, be utterly decayed, empoverished,
and undone, in this world, unless your excellent and benign grace of
your tender pity be unto your said subjects gracious at this time
showing in this behalf. And without a short remedy be had herein, your
said subjects be not able, nor shall not be of power to pay their
rents nor also to maintain their poor households and to bear lot and
scot and all other priests’ benevolences, and charges in time of need
and war for the defence of your grace and of this your said realm,
for the repressing, subduing, and vanquishing of your ancient enemies
Frenchmen, and all other their adherents and banished men outwards.”
(_Furnivall._)




                              APPENDIX IV

                       THE ORDER OF PROCESSIONS


    “Messengers of the Court.
    Gentlemen of lesse note.
    Esquiers.
    Esquiers of the Body.
    Clarkes of the Chancery.
    Clarkes of the Signet.
    Clarkes of the Privy Seale.
    Clarkes of the Counsell.
    Masters of the Chancery.
    Knights Batchlers.
    Knights Banneretts.
              Trumpets soundinge.
    Serjeants at Law.
    Queenes Serjeants.
    The Queen’s Attorney and the Queen’s Solicitor together.
    The Baron of the Exchequer.
    The Judges of the Common Pleas.
    The Judges of the King’s Bench.
    The Lorde Chiefe Justice of the Common Pleas, and the Lord Chiefe
        Justice of the Exchequer.
    The Lord Chief Justice of England, and the Master of the Rolls.
    The Younger Sonnes of Nobility.
    Knight of the Privy Counsell.
    Knights of the Garter.
    The Principall Secretary.
    The Treasurer of the Queen’s House, and Controller of the Queen’s
        House.
    The Queen’s Clarke and Hat-bearer.
    Two Heralds.
    The Barons two and two.
    Two Heralds.
    The Bishops.
    The Vicounts.
    Two Heralds.
    The Earls.
    An Herald or King of Armes.
    The Marques, etc.
    Places for Dukes.
    The Lord Chancellor of England.
    The Lord Treasurer of England.
    The Archbishop of Canterbury.
    Clarenciaux King of Armes.
    The Sergeants at Armes with Staves.
    Bearer of the Capp Royal, and the Carrier of the Marshall Rod of
        England.
    The Sword bearer on either side him.
    The Great Chamberleine of England.
    The Steward of the Queenes House on the left side.
    Then the Queene in her Chariotte.
    The Four Querryes of the Stable come next, with the Queen’s
        footmen: and without them all in a rancke wayted the Pentioners
        with their Partisans.
    Then the Master of the Horse.
    Then the Chamberleine of the Queenes House.
    Then the Vice-chamberleine with many Noblewomen, Ladyes and others.

In this order passing to St. Peter’s Church, in Westminster: was there
met with the Queen’s Almoner, the Dean of Westminster with the Prebends
and all the Quier in their Copes.”




                              APPENDIX V

                         THE CHANGES OF RITUAL


On 28th July 1900 was published in the _Athenæum_ of that date a paper
by the late Rev. Prebendary Kitto, Vicar of St. Martin’s in the Fields,
on the changes effected in the rites and ceremonies of that church
during the years 1537–1560 or thereabouts. This instructive document
was compiled from the accounts and papers preserved in the archives of
the church.

Thus the ritual remained much the same during the reign of Henry
VIII. as it had been before the commencement of the Reformation. They
provided, as of old, candles, palms, incense; they hallowed sacred
coals for Easter Eve; they provided lights for the font, for the rood
loft, and for the altars; they set up the Easter sepulchre; they used
the great Paschal Candle, the tabernacle, and the pyx; they maintained
the side altars, and they not only repaired the vestments but they
received gifts of new vestments. They had obits and “minds,” celebrated
mass and kept up the images.

In 1538 lights before images were forbidden; but a perpetual light was
maintained at the high altar.

In 1539 the Parish sold the iron and latten candlesticks which had been
used for the images.

In the same year a Bible was bought for the church. It cost 12s. 8d.

In 1540 Henry is described under the title of “Defender of the Faith
and Supreme Head, under God, of the Church of England and Ireland.”

In 1547 they sold all the wax they had in stock, according to the
injunction.

In 1548 no more lights were allowed. The Parish sold the rest of their
candlesticks, and bought a Paraphrase of the Gospel and a Communion
Cup; they also whitewashed the church, in order, I suppose, to
obliterate the pictures.

In 1549 the altars were stripped: there were to be no more flowers or
garlands, no incense and no lights.

In 1550 they set up a box for the poor; sold their vestments; bought
white surplices, and put a green cloth over the “Communion Table.”

In 1553 they sold the “old broken stuff of the Rood Loft” and made
“Communion Pews.”

In the same year they were made to feel the mutability of things
religious, because everything had to be restored at great expense.
Their candlesticks, however, were of tin. They bought a cross for
processions; a mass-book, a holy water stoup with a sprinkle; a basket
for the holy bread; a pyx and all the other old vessels. Also, because
under Edward they had written texts on the walls, they were now ordered
to wipe them all out.

In 1559 they began to go back again to the Edwardian time, but not
immediately. In 1560 the Bible was restored.

It is worthy of note that the parish officers were a little uncertain,
after their melancholy experience, of the stability of things. They
therefore kept the vessels bought in the time of Queen Mary until 1569,
when, feeling somewhat reassured, they sold them all.




                              APPENDIX VI

                            GOLDSMITHS’ ROW


“Opposite to the Cross in Cheapside, on the south side of the street,
there stood a superb pile of buildings, called Goldsmiths’ Row,
extending from the west to Bread Street. This Row was erected in 1491,
by Thomas Wood, Goldsmith, Sheriff of London. Stow describes it in
1598 as ‘the most beautiful frame of fair houses and shops that be
within the walls of London, or elsewhere in England. It containeth in
number ten fair dwelling-houses and fourteen shops, all in one frame,
uniformly builded four stories high, beautified toward the street
with the Goldsmith arms and the likeness of Woodmen (in memory of
the founder’s name) riding on monstrous beasts, all of which is cast
in lead, richly painted over and gilt.’ ‘This said front was again
new painted and gilt over in the year 1594, Sir Richard Martin being
then Mayor, and keeping the Mayoralty in one of them’ (Stow, edition
1633). ‘At this time the City greatly abounded in riches and splendour,
such as former ages were unacquainted with. Then it was beautiful
to behold the glorious appearance of Goldsmiths’ shops in the South
Row of Cheapside, which, in a continued course, reached from the Old
Change to Bucklersbury, exclusive of four shops only of other trades
in all that space’ (Maitland’s _History of London_, edition 1760,
vol. i. p. 301). King Charles the First in 1629 issued a Proclamation
ordering the Goldsmiths to plant themselves, for the use of their
trade, in Cheapside or Lombard Street. The Lords of the Council, in
1637, sent a letter to the Lord Mayor and Aldermen (_vide_ vii. 197),
ordering them to close every shop in Cheapside and Lombard Street that
did not carry on the trade of a Goldsmith, about twenty-four in all,
Grove and one Widow Hill, Stationers; Dover, a Milliner; Brown, a
Bandseller; Sanders, a Drugster; Medcalfe, a Cook; Edwards, a Girdler,
etc.—Rushworth’s ‘State Papers.’” (_Remembrancia_, p. 106, n. 1.)




                             APPENDIX VII

                             LONDON PLANTS


In the _Archæologia_ may be found the following enumeration of plants
grown in an Elizabethan garden:—

  Adderstong—Ophioglossum.
  Affodyll—Narcissus Pseudo-narcissus. Affodyll Daffadilly.
  Appyl—Apple—Pyrus Malus; and garden varieties.
  Asche tre—Ash—Fraxinus excelsior.
  Auans—Geum urbanum, Avance or Avens.
  Betony—Saachys Betonica.
  Borage—Borrago officinalis.
  Bryswort—Bruisewort, Brusewort or Brisewort—Bellis perenni.
  Bugull—Bugle—Ajuga reptans.
  Bygull—Bigold—Chrysanthemom segetum.
  Calamynte—Calamintha officinalis. “The garden mynt.”
  Camemyl—Chamomile—Anthemis nobilis. “Camamyll.”
  Carsyndylls? “Cars or Carses—cress.”
  Centory—Great Centuary.
  Clarey—Clary—Salvia sclarea.
  Comfery—Comfrey—Symphytum officinale.
  Coryawnder—Coriander.
  Cowslippe—Cowslip.
  Dytawnder—Dittander and Dittany.
  Egrimoyne—Egremoyne.
  Elysauwder—Smyrnium Olusatrum.
  Feldwort—Felwort and Fieldwort.
  Floscampi? Campion?
  Foxglove—Digitalis purpurea.
  Fynel—Fennel.
  Garleke—Garlick.
  Gladyn—Iris foetidissima or Iris Pseudacorus.
  Gromel—Gromwell.
  Growdyswyly—Growndyswyly—Groundswyll.
  Hasel tre—Hazel tree.
  Haw thorn—Hawthorn.
  Henbane—Hyoscyamus niger.
  Herbe Ion.
  Herbe Robert—Geranium Robertianum.
  Herbe Water—Herb Walter.
  Hertystonge—Hartystonge—Hart’s-tongue.
  Holyhocke—Althaea rosea, or Malva sylvestris or Althaea officinalis.
  Honysoke—Honeysuckle.
  Horehound—Marrubium vulgare.
  Horsel—Horselle—Horsehele.
  Hyndesall?—Hind-heal.
  Langbefe, generally supposed to be Helminthia echioides.
  Lavyndull—Lavandula vera.
  Leke—Leek.
  Letows—Lettuce.
  Lyly—Lily.
  Lyverwort.
  Merege. Cannot identify.
  Moderwort—Motherwort.
  Mouseer—Mouse ear.
  Myntys—Mint.
  Nepte—Nep or Neppe or Nept.
  Oculus Christi—Salvia verbanaca.
  Orage—Atriplex hortensis.
  Orpy—Orpies.
  Ownyns and Oynet.
  Parrow? Cannot identify? mistake for Yarrow.
  Pelyter—Pellitory.
  Percely—Perselye —Parsley.
  Pere—Pear.
  Peruynke—Periwinkle.
  Primrole—Primrose.
  Polypody—Polypodium vulgare.
  Pympernold—Pimpernel.
  Radysche—Radish.
  Redenay. Cannot identify.
  Rewe—Rue.
  Rose—Rosa, red and white.
  Rybwort—Ribwort.
  Saferowne—Saffron.
  Sage—Salvia officinalis.
  Sanycle—Sanicle.
  Sauerey—Savory.
  Scabyas—Scabious.
  Seueny—Seniue. Common mustard or field senive.
  Sowthrynwode—Southernwood.
  Sperewort—Spearwort.
  Spynage—Spinach.
  Strowberys—Strawberries.
  Stychewort—Stichewort.
  Tansay—Tansy.
  Totesayne—Tutsan—Hypericum Androsæmum.
  Tuncarse—Town cress.
  Tyme—Thyme.
  Valeryan—a general name for Valeriana.
  Verveyn—Vervain—Verbena officinalis.
  Violet—Viola. Generally V. odorata.
  Vynys and Vyne tre—Vine.
  Walwort—Walwort or Danewort of Dwarf elder.
  Warmot—Wormwood.
  Waterlyly—Water lily.
  Weybrede—Plantago major.
  Woderofe—Woodruffe.
  Wodesour—Woodsour.
  Wurtys—Wortys.
  Wyldtesyl—Teazel.
  Ysope—Hyssop. “Ysopus is ysope.”

                                     (_Archæologia_, vol. 1. p. 167.)




                             APPENDIX VIII

                   THE GALLANTS’ WALK IN ST. PAUL’S


“Your mediterranean isle is then the only gallery, wherein the pictures
of all your true fashionate and complemental Gulls are, and ought to
be hung up. Into that gallery carry your neat body: but take heed you
pick out such an hour, when the main shoal of islanders are swimming
up and down. And first observe your doors of entrance, and your exit:
not much unlike the players at the theatres: keeping your decorums,
even in phantasticality. As for example: if you prove to be a northern
gentleman, I would wish you to pass through the north door, more often
especially than any of the other: and so, according to your countries
take note of your entrances.

Now for your venturing into the walk. Be circumspect, and wary what
pillar you come in at: and take heed in any case, as you love the
reputation of your honour, that you avoid the serving-man’s log, and
approach not within five fathom of that pillar: but bend your course
directly in the middle line, that the whole body of the church may
appear to be yours: where, in view of all, you may publish your suit
in what manner you affect most, either with the slide of your cloak
from the one shoulder: and then you must, as ’twere in anger, suddenly
snatch at the middle of the inside, if it be taffeta at the least:
and so by that means your costly lining is betrayed, or else by the
pretty advantage of compliment. But one note by the way I do especially
woo you to, the neglect of which makes many of our gallants cheap and
ordinary, that by no means you be seen above four turns: but in the
fifth make yourself away, either in some of the semsters’ shops, the
new tobacco-office, or amongst the booksellers, where, if you cannot
read, exercise your smoke, and inquire who has writ against this divine
weed, etc. For this withdrawing yourself a little will much benefit
your suit, which else, by too long walking, would be stale to the whole
spectators: but howsoever if Paul’s jacks be once up with their elbows,
and quarrelling to strike eleven: as soon as ever the clock has parted
them, and ended the fray with his hammer, let not the Duke’s gallery
contain you any longer, but pass away apace in open view: in which
departure, if by chance you either encounter, or aloof off throw your
inquisitive eye upon any knight or squire, being your familiar, salute
him not by his name of Sir such a one, or so: but call him Ned, or
Jack, etc. This will set off your estimation with great men: and if,
though there be a dozen companies between you, ’tis the better, he call
aloud to you, for that is most genteel, to know where he shall find
you at two o’clock: tell him at such an ordinary or such: and be sure
to name those that are dearest, and whither none but gallants resort.
After dinner you may appear again, having translated yourself out of
your English cloth cloak into a light Turkey grogram, if you have that
happiness of shifting: and then be seen, for a turn or two, to correct
your teeth with some quill or silver instrument, and to cleanse your
gums with a wrought handkerchief: it skills not whether you dined, or
no: that is best known to your stomach: or in what place you dined:
though it were with cheese, of your mother’s own making, in your
chamber, or study.

Now if you chance to be a gallant not much crost among citizens: that
is, a gallant in the mercer’s books, exalted for satins and velvets:
if you be not so much blest to be crost (as I hold it the greatest
blessing in the world to be great in no man’s books): your Paul’s walk
is your only refuge: the Duke’s tomb is a sanctuary: and will keep
you alive from worms, and land-rats, that long to be feeding on your
carcass: there you may spend your legs in winter a whole afternoon:
converse, plot, and talk any thing: jest at your creditor, even to his
face: and in the evening, even by lamp-light, steal out: and so cozen a
whole covey of abominable catchpolls. Never be seen to mount the steps
into the quire, but upon a high festival day, to prefer the fashion of
your doublet: and especially if the singing-boys seem to take note of
you: for they are able to buzz your praises above their anthems, if
their voices have not lost their maidenheads: but be sure your silver
spurs dog your heels, and then the boys will swarm about you like so
many white butterflies: when you in the open quire shall draw forth a
perfumed embroidered purse, the glorious sight of which will entice
many countrymen from their devotion to wondering: and quoit silver into
the boys’ hands, that it may be heard above the first lesson, although
it be read in a voice as big as one of the great organs.

This noble and notable act being performed, you are to vanish presently
out of the quire, and to appear again in the walk: but in any wise be
not observed to tread there long alone: for fear you be suspected to be
a gallant cashiered from the society of captains, and fighters.” (_The
Gull’s Horn Book._)




                              APPENDIX IX

             MONTHLY PROVISION TABLE THROUGH THE YEAR 1605


  +---+--------------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
  |   |              | J | F | M | A | M | J | J | A | S | O | N | D |
  |   |              | a | e | a | p | a | u | u | u | e | c | o | e |
  |   |              | n.| b | r | r | y | n | l | g | p | t | v | c |
  |   |              | . | . | . | i | . | e | y | u | t | . | . | . |
  |   |              |   |   |   | l |   | . | . | s | . |   |   |   |
  |   |              |   |   |   | . |   |   |   | t |   |   |   |   |
  |   |              |   |   |   |   |   |   |   | . |   |   |   |   |
  +---+--------------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
  |   | Rooe         |...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Bucke        |...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|
  |   | Braune       |———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|
  |   | Muttone      |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Pigge        |———|———|———|———|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Hare         |———|———|———|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  | M | Beefe        |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  | E | Veale        |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  | A | Lambe        |———|...|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|———|———|
  | T | Dowe         |———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|
  |   | Baconn       |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Porcke       |———|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|
  |   | Rabbetts     |———|———|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Hinde        |———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|
  |   | Kidde        |...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Stagges      |...|...|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|
  |   | Gote         |...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|...|———|———|
  +---+--------------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
  |   | Bustarde     |———|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|
  |   | Goose        |———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Green Goose  |...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Heron        |———|...|———|...|...|———|———|———|...|———|———|...|
  |   | Egrett       |———|...|...|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Widgeon      |———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|
  |   | Curlewiake   |———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Turkie       |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Phesaunte    |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Pullett      |———|...|...|———|———|...|...|...|———|...|———|———|
  |   | Bayninge     |———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|
  |   | Ruffe        |———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|...|...|
  |   | Plover       |———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|
  |   | Snipe        |———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|
  |   | Partreges    |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Larckes      |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|———|———|
  |   | Crayne       |———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|
  |   | Storcke      |———|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|
  |   | Shoveller    |———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Brue         |———|...|...|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Curlewe      |———|———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|
  |   | Gull         |———|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|...|———|
  |   | Peacocke     |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|———|———|
  |   | Henne        |———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|
  |   | Redshanke    |———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|
  |   | Knotte       |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Blankett     |———|...|...|...|...|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Stockdoves   |———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|
  |   | Indecocke    |———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Quales       |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|———|———|
  |   | Thrush       |...|———|———|...|...|———|...|...|...|———|———|———|
  |   | Pidgeons     |...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|———|———|
  | F | Stennts      |...|———|———|...|———|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|
  | O | Turtells     |...|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|
  | W | Goldnye      |...|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  | L | Jedcokes     |...|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|...|
  |   | Pevetts      |...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|
  |   | Sea Pie      |...|...|...|...|...|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Pea Chicks   |...|...|...|...|...|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Petterells   |...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|
  |   | Stares       |...|...|...|...|...|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Churre       |...|...|...|...|...|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Sparrows     |———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Swanne       |———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|
  |   | Hernne       |———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|...|...|———|
  |   | Bitter       |———|———|———|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|
  |   | Mallarde     |———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|
  |   | Cudberduce   |———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|
  |   | Cullver      |———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|
  |   | Caponne      |———|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|———|———|
  |   | Godwite      |———|———|———|———|———|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Ree          |———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|
  |   | Dotterell    |———|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Teale        |———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|
  |   | Woodcocke    |———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|
  |   | Plover       |———|...|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Fellfaire    |———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Finshes      |———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Smalebirds   |...|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|
  |   | Chickens     |...|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|
  |   | Chitt        |...|...|...|...|———|...|———|———|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Kennecis     |...|...|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|
  |   | Mewe         |...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|
  |   | Tearne       |...|...|...|...|...|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Blackbirds   |...|...|...|...|...|———|...|...|...|———|———|———|
  |   | Young Turkies|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Auk          |...|...|...|...|...|...|———|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Martines     |...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Crouces      |...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|...|...|...|
  |   | Dunlings     |...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|...|...|...|
  |   | Railes       |...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|...|...|
  |   | Lapwine      |...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|...|
  |   | Golne        |...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|...|
  +---+--------------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+
  |   | Kennecis     |...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Pearches     |...|———|———|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Linge        |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Tunny        |———|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|
  |   | Turbutt      |———|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Whitinge     |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Soles        |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Lamprons     |———|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|
  |   | Carpe        |———|...|...|...|...|———|...|...|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Tench        |———|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|
  |   | Oysters      |———|———|———|———|...|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Cockells     |———|...|...|———|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Codde        |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Porposse     |———|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|
  |   | Haddocke     |———|———|———|———|———|...|———|———|...|...|———|———|
  |   | Sealumpe     |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|———|———|
  |   | Place        |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|
  |   | Chevine      |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|
  |   | Pike         |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Eles         |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|———|———|
  |   | Crabbs       |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Crevices     |———|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Styrgeon     |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  | F | Seals        |———|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|
  | I | Thornebacke  |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  | S | Salmon       |———|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|...|———|———|
  | H | Dace         |...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Habberdine   |...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Roche        |...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Mussels      |...|———|———|———|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Crefishes    |...|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Smeltes      |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Barbell      |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|
  |   | Breame       |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Rudds        |———|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|———|
  |   | Lobsters     |———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|
  |   | Praunes      |———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|
  |   | Herings White|...|...|...|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Herings Red  |...|...|...|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Herringes    |...|...|...|...|...|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Britt        |...|...|...|———|...|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Conger       |...|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|
  |   | Cunninge     |...|...|...|———|...|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Goodgions    |...|...|...|———|...|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|
  |   | Rochetts     |...|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|
  |   | River Trout  |...|...|...|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Trout        |...|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|
  |   | Flounders    |...|...|...|———|———|———|...|———|———|———|...|———|
  |   | Lamprais     |...|...|...|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Mades        |...|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|
  |   | Loche        |...|...|...|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Gurnard      |...|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|
  |   | Sprates      |...|...|...|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Dabes        |...|...|...|———|———|———|...|———|———|———|...|———|
  |   | Dory         |...|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|
  |   | Millett      |...|...|...|———|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Perches      |...|...|...|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Burbott      |...|...|...|———|———|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Menewes      |...|...|...|———|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Mackarell    |...|...|...|...|———|———|———|———|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Shads        |...|...|...|...|———|...|———|———|...|...|...|...|
  |   | Mopps        |...|...|...|...|...|———|...|———|———|———|...|———|
  |   | Breate       |...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|———|———|...|
  |   | Smalcod      |...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|———|
  |   | Shrimps      |...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|
  |   | Perrewinkell |...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|...|———|
  +---+--------------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+

Maitland gives a Table of Prices for the years 1274, 1302, 1314,
1531, and 1550. Note that in the years 1314 and 1550 provisions were
excessively dear.

  +--------------------------+------------+---------+---------+-----------+-----------+
  |                          |   1274.    | 1300 or |  1314.  |   1531.   |   1550.   |
  |                          |            |  1302.  |         |           |           |
  +--------------------------+------------+---------+---------+-----------+-----------+
  |A Fat Cock                |...         |1½d.     |...      |¾d.        |    ...    |
  |The best Hen              |3½d.        |...      |1½d.     |...        |    9d.    |
  |   „     Pullet           |1¾d.        |¾d.      |...      |...        |    6d.    |
  |   „     Capon            |2d.         |2½d.     |2½d.     |1s.        | 1s. 4d. to|
  |                          |            |         |         |           |  1s. 8d.  |
  |   „     Goose (according |5d. or 4d.  |4d.      |3d.      |...        | 6d. to 9d.|
  |           to season)     |            |         |         |           |           |
  |   „     Wild Goose       |4d.         |...      |...      |...        |    ...    |
  |   „     Pigeon           |3 for 1d.   |...      |3 for 1d.|12 for 10d.|  12 for   |
  |                          |            |         |         |           |  1s. 2d.  |
  |   „     Mallard          |3½d.        |1½d.     |...      |...        |    ...    |
  |   „     Wild Duck        |1¾d.        |...      |...      |...        |    ...    |
  |   „     Partridge        |3½d.        |1½d.     |...      |...        |    ...    |
  |   „     Larks (per dozen)|12 for 1d.  |...      |...      |12 for 5d. | 12 for 8d.|
  |   „     Pheasant         |4d.         |...      |...      |...        |    ...    |
  |   „     Heron            |6d.         |6d.      |...      |...        |  2s. 6d.  |
  |   „     Plover           |1d.         |1d.      |...      |...        |    4d.    |
  |   „     Swan             |3s.         |3s.      |...      |...        |  6s. 8d.  |
  |   „     Crane            |3s.         |1s.      |...      |...        |    6s.    |
  |   „     Peacock          |1d.         |...      |...      |...        |    ...    |
  |   „     Coney            |4d.         |...      |...      |...        |    ...    |
  |   „     Hare             |3½d.        |...      |...      |...        |    ...    |
  |   „     Kid (according   |10d. or 6d. |...      |...      |...        |    ...    |
  |           to season)     |            |         |         |           |           |
  |   „     Lamb             |6d. or 4d.  | 1s. 4d. |...      |...        |    ...    |
  |                          |            |  or 4d. |         |           |           |
  |   „     Plaice           |1½d.        |...      |...      |...        |    ...    |
  |   „     Soles (per dozen)|3d.         |...      |...      |...        |    ...    |
  |   „     Mullet           |    2d.     |   ...   |   ...   |    ...    |    ...    |
  |   „     Haddock          |    2d.     |   ...   |   ...   |    ...    |    ...    |
  |   „     Conger           |    1s.     |   ...   |   ...   |    ...    |    ...    |
  |   „     Turbot           |    6d.     |   ...   |   ...   |    ...    |    ...    |
  |   „     Mackerel         |    1d.     |   ...   |   ...   |    ...    |    ...    |
  |   „     Gurnard          |    1d.     |   ...   |   ...   |    ...    |    ...    |
  |   „     Herring (accord- |6 for 1d. or|         |         |           |           |
  |           ing to season) | 12 for 1d. |   ...   |   ...   |    ...    |    ...    |
  |   „     Lamprey          |    4d.     |   ...   |   ...   |    ...    |    ...    |
  |   „     Oysters          |2d. a gallon|   ...   |   ...   |    ...    |    ...    |
  |   „     Salmon (according| 5s. or 3s. |         |         |           |           |
  |           to season)     |            |   ...   |   ...   |    ...    |    ...    |
  |   „     Eels             | 25 for 2d. |   ...   |   ...   |    ...    |    ...    |
  |   „     Smelts           |100 for 1d. |   ...   |   ...   |    ...    |    ...    |
  |A Quarter of Wheat        |     ...    |   4s.   |   ...   |    ...    |8s. to 13s.|
  |     „       Pease        |     ...    | 2s. 6d. |   ...   |    ...    | 3s. to 5s.|
  |     „       Oats         |     ...    |   2s.   |   ...   |    ...    |     4s.   |
  |A Bull                    |     ...    | 7s. 6d. |   ...   |    ...    |    ...    |
  |A Cow                     |     ...    |   6s.   |  12s.   |    ...    |    ...    |
  |A Fat Sheep               |     ...    |   1s.   |   ...   | 2s. 10d.  | 2s. 4d. to|
  |                          |            |         |         |           |  4s. 4d   |
  |An Ewe                    |     ...    |   8d.   |   ...   |    ...    | 1s. 8d. to|
  |                          |            |         |         |           |  2s. 6d.  |
  |An Ox                     |     ...    |   ...   | £1:4s.  |  £1:6:8   | £2:5s. to |
  |                          |            |         | or 16s. |           |  £1:8s.   |
  |A Hog                     |     ...    |   ...   | 3s. 4d. | 3s. 8d.   |    ...    |
  |Eggs                      |     ...    |   ...   |20 a 1d. |    ...    |    ...    |
  +--------------------------+------------+---------+---------+-----------+-----------+




                              APPENDIX X

                              EXECUTIONS


The following is a list of executions which took place in the thirty
years ending 1586. It shows the various crimes which were then
considered capital:—

  1563. A soldier executed at Newhaven for drawing his weapon without
          orders.
  1563. A sergeant and soldier executed for drawing their weapons
          against their captain.
  1569. Mestrell a Frenchman, and two Englishmen, hanged for
          counterfeiting money.
  1569. Sixty rebels executed at Durham.
  1569. A ’prentice hanged for murdering his master.
  1569. Five rebels executed at York.
  1570. Thomas and Christopher Norton executed for treason.
  1570. John Throckmorton and five others executed for treason.
  1570. John Felton hanged for nailing the Pope’s Bull to the Bishop
          of London’s Palace.
  1570. Two young men hanged for debasing coin.
  1570. Dr. John Storie hanged for high treason.
  1571. Rebecca Chamber burnt for poisoning her husband.
  1572. Barneie, Mather, and Rolfe, hanged for treason.
  1572. Martin Bullocke hanged for robbery and murder.
  1572. Duke of Norfolk beheaded for treason.
  1573. Percy, Earl of Northumberland, beheaded as a conspirator.
  1573. John Hall and Oswald Wilkinson hanged for treason.
  1573. A man hanged for murder.
  1573. George Browne hanged for murder.
  1573. Anne Sanders, Anne Drurie, and trustie Roger hanged as
          accessories to murder.
  1573. Anthonie Browne hanged for felony.
  1574. Peter Burchet hanged for murder.
  1575. Two Dutch Anabaptists burnt at Smithfield.
  1575. Twenty-two pirates executed.
  1575. Thomas Greene, goldsmith, hanged for clipping coin.
  1576. A woman burnt at Tunbridge for poisoning her husband.
  1576. A man hanged at Maidstone as an accessory to poisoning.
  1577. Cuthbert Maine hanged as a Romanist.
  1577. John Nelson and Thomas Sherewood hanged for denying the
          Queen’s supremacy.
  1577. John de Loy and five Englishmen executed at Norwich for
          counterfeiting coin.
  1577. Seven Pirates hanged at Wapping.
  1577. An Irishman hanged on Mile End Green for murder.
  1580. A man named Glover hanged for murder.
  1580. Richard Dod hanged for murder.
  1580. William Randall hanged for conjuring.
  1581. A man hanged at St. Thomas Waterings for begging by a licence
          signed by the Queen’s own hand counterfeited.
  1581. Edward Hance a seminary priest hanged.
  1581. Edmund Campion, Ralfe Sherwin, Alexander Briars, hanged for
          high treason.
  1581. John Paine executed at Chelmsford for high treason.
  1581. Thomas Foord, John Shert, Robert Johnson, priests, hanged for
          designs against Elizabeth.
  1582. Laurence Richardson and Thomas Catcham executed for Romanism.
  1582. Philip Prise hanged in Fleet Street for killing a Sheriff.
  1583. Thomas Worth and Alice Shepheard hanged in Shoolane for
          killing a ’prentice.
  1583. Elias Shackar hanged at Bury St. Edmunds for spreading
          seditious literature.
  1583. Ten priests hanged.
  1583. John Lewes burnt at Norwich for heresy.
  1583. John Slade and John Bodie hanged for high treason.
  1583. Ten horsedealers hanged at Smithfield for robbery.
  1583. Edward Arden hanged for treason.
  1583. William Carter hanged for high treason.
  1584. Francis Throckemorton hanged for treason.
  1584. William Parrie hanged for treason.
  1585. Thomas Awfeld and Thomas Weblie hanged for publishing
          seditious matter.
  1586. Two seminary priests hanged at Tyburn.
  1586. A witch burnt at Smithfield.
  1586. A woman executed at Tyburn for adultery.
  1586. Two priests hanged at Tyburn for treason.
  1586. Jone Cason hanged for witchcraft.
  1586. A man named Foule hanged for robbing his wife.
  1586. Henry Elks hanged for counterfeiting the Queen’s signature.
  1586. Seven persons condemned for treason.
  1586. John Ballard, a priest, executed for conspiring with Anthony
          Babington against Elizabeth. With him were executed John
          Savage, Barnewell, Tichborne, Tilneie, Edward Abingdon,
          Anthony Babington.
  1586. Thomas Salisbury executed for treason. With him suffered
          Henry Dun, Edward Jones, Charnocke, Robert Gage, Jerom
          Bellamie.
  1586. Three seminary priests hanged at Tyburn.
  1563–1586—76 Executed for high treason.
             71 Rebels.
             17 Murder.
              3 Military offences.
             12 Counterfeiting and clipping coin.
              2 Counterfeiting Queen’s signature.
             29 Pirates.
              2 Witchcraft and conjuring.
              3 Heresy.
             12 Robbery.
              1 Adultery.




                              APPENDIX XI

                        PLAN OF TOTTENHAM COURT


          (MARQUIS OF SALISBURY’S COLLECTION, HATFIELD HOUSE)

  (Endorsed 1) The plot of Toten’am Coorte.
  (Endorsed 2) Ap. 1591 Totenham Cort.

Below the plan is written:—

“M^d. [memorandum] there doth belonge to the said Scite of Tottenham
Court two other Closes over and above the pastures mentioned in this
plotte; And not here mentioned by reason they lye so farr distaunt
from the said londes mentioned in this plott: Vĩz the one of the said
Closes doth lye in Kentishe Towne in the said Countie, distaunt one
Mile and more from the farthest part Northward of the ground mentioned
in the said plott, late in the Tenure of Widowe Glover: And the other
Close contayning 4 Acres by estimacõn doth lye in the parishe of St
Pancrasse in the said Countie now or late in the Tenure of Willm̃
Bunche, distaunt from the South part of the saied landes mentioned in
the said plott one quarter of A myle: w^{ch} saied two Closes w^{th}
two Tenem^{ts} there (As I am enfourmed) are demised unto Serieaunt
[Serjeant] Haynes for certaine yeares yet enduring, by the right
Honourable Henry late Earle of Arundell, And Robert late Earle of
Leyester; yeelding yearley to the Cofferer of hir Ma^{ts} [Majesty’s]
housholde—lxvi^s viii^d. The charge of the new building of one of
the Tenem^{ts}, And the continuall Repairing thereof, hath (As I am
enfourmed) cost Serieaunt Haynes—xxxiii^{li} vi^s viii^d. And the new
building of the other, w^{th} the repairing thereof did coste Alexander
Glover late Hearde there—xx^{li} or thereabouts.

Also I am enfourmed, that Serieaunt Haynes doth hold the said ffowre
Closes, lying next the said Parke pale, w^{th} thafter pasture of two
of the same Closes, beyng the middle Closes; yeelding yearlie ffiftie
loades of hay, to be delivered at the Muse, ffor and twords her Ma^{ts}
[Majesty’s] provision there, cleere above all charges; every loade
to contayne 18. hundred weight. And thafter pasture of the other two
Closes are to be used for the feede of her Ma^{ts} Cattell untill the
feaste of the Purification of o^r Lady following.

Also I finde one Danyell Clerke one of her Ma^{ts} servaunts doth now
dwell in the Scite of the said howse, w^{ch} is A very slender building
of Timber and Bricke And hath beene of a larger building, then now it
is: ffor some little parte hath been pulled downe of late, to amend
some part of the howses now standing; w^{ch} has beene repaired of
late, by the said Alexander Glover Heard there: And other some part
being two Roomes, whereof the one Roome contayneth in breadth w^{th}in
the wall 15 foote; And in lengthe 24 foote; And thother Roome is 15
foote broade, and in length 34 foote very greatlie decaied, w^{ch} will
coste to be repaired—lx^{li} at the least. And the said cheife howse,
one Stable, and two barnes, And A little Close called Ponde Close,
w^{th} the Ortcyard, And the two Closes called Murrells mentioned
in the platt are used to be fedd w^{th} her Ma^{ts} Cattell, At the
discretion of her Ma^{ts} Officers.

                                                 6^t Aprilis 1.5.9.1
                                               ̃p. me Willm̃ Nector.”




              NOTE ON AGAS’S MAP AT THE END OF THE VOLUME


Ralph Agas was born about 1540. He was a land-surveyor, and his
chief claim to notice lies in the three maps or plans he made of
London, Oxford, and Cambridge. Of these the one reproduced in this
volume, entitled “A Survey of the Cities of London and Westminster,
the Borough of Southwark and parts adjacent,” was engraved by Edward
J. Francis, and edited by W. H. Overall, F.S.A. Mr. Overall made a
careful examination of all the facts, and believes that the original
map of Agas was not made earlier than the year 1591, though it has been
commonly supposed to have been made about 1560. Of the original, two
copies are extant—one in the Guildhall, and the other in the Pepysian
Collection at Magdalen College, Oxford.

In 1737 G. Vertue published a copy of Agas’s map, altering the original
in many important particulars, which are enumerated by Mr. Overall in
his account of the map. Among these may be mentioned the water-bearers
seen off Tower Stairs and the Steelyard, filling their casks, which are
slung across the backs of horses, by the aid of a long-handled ladle.
In Vertue’s map this interesting detail is turned into a meaningless
one, namely, a man driving cows into the water with a whip. In Agas
the figures seen in the fields are in Elizabethan costume; in Vertue’s
map they are in the costume of William III.’s reign. Other particulars
omitted in Vertue are the royal barge in mid-stream off Baynard’s
Castle; the Martello Tower at the mouth of the Fleet; the Chapter
House and the Church of St. Gregory on the south side of St. Paul;
and various other points. By noting these details, Vertue’s spurious
reproduction can be at once distinguished from the genuine map of
Agas.




                                 INDEX


  Abergavenny, 218

  Abram man, the, 386

  Acheley, R., 42

  Acton, Barnard, 389

  Africa, trade with, 222

  Agas, Ralph, 186, 417

  Aldermen, 8, 10, 12, 16, 20, 26, 27, 37, 40, 77, 78, 90, 98, 210, 211,
    212, 259, 309, 313, 324, 342, 345, 371, 373, 397

  Aldermen, Court of, 27, 28, 40, 220

  Aldersgate Street, 58, 246

  Aldersgate, Ward of, 76

  Aldgate, Ward of, 76

  Ale and beer, 292, 293, 300, 302, 334, 337, 368

  Aliens, 13, 14, 19, 23, 24, 25, 26, 42, 59, 61, 80, 82, 203, 237, 238,
    242, 387, 399

  Allen, Cardinal, 72, 73, 119, 143

  Allen, J., 376

  Almshouses, 375–378

  Ambassadors, the French, 23, 24, 26, 39, 351, 389;
    the Russian, 63, 234

  Amusements—Archery, 193, 343, 354–356, 363;
    bear-baiting, 74, 241, 343, 346, 347, 352–354;
    bowls, 181, 290, 363;
    bucklers, 25;
    bull-baiting, 343, 346, 347, 352, 353;
    cards, 290, 363;
    cock-fighting, 363;
    dancing, 20, 153, 182, 325, 343, 363;
    dice, 290;
    fighting, 183;
    hawking, 98;
    hunting, 100, 215, 363;
    masques, 313;
    May-day games, 347;
    pigeon-shooting, 153;
    quarter-staff, 343, 352, 363;
    quintain, 343;
    reading, 365;
    single-stick, 352;
    story-telling, 364,  365;
    tennis, 290;
    theatres (See _Drama, Theatres_);
    tilting and tournaments, 100, 351, 363;
    and women, 272;
    wrestling, 183, 343, 352, 363

  Anabaptists, 160, 161

  Anfrelini, Fausto, 286

  Anglers, 385

  Anstry, Ralph, 10

  Antwerp, 219–220, 232

  Apollo Club, 340

  Appletree, Thomas, 82, 389–391

  Apprentices, 12, 13, 80, 199, 218, 275, 276, 291, 310, 323–332, 387

  Apprentice bell, the, 147

  Apsley, 246

  Ardeley, J., 136

  Arden of Faversham, 47

  Armour, 318, 319, 322

  Arthington, Henry, 158, 159

  Arthur, Prince, 9

  Artillery Company, 356

  Artillery Ground, 16

  Arundell, Earl of, 39

  Ascham, 248

  Ashmole, 165

  Askew, Anne, 31

  Astrology, 165

  Atwater, John, 9

  Audley, Lord, 7, 8

  Autem Morte, the, 387

  Awdeley, 384

  Aylmer, Lawrence, 12


  Babington Conspiracy, the, 81

  Bacon, Lord, 202, 248

  Bainbrigg, 150

  Bakewell, 150

  Bale, John, 129, 130, 257

  Ballads, 251, 252, 253

  Balthazar, 203

  Bankside, 203, 240, 346, 347, 352

  Barbican, the, 100

  Barges, 39, 86, 211, 259, 351, 389, 417

  Barley, W., 246

  “Barmesey” Street, 384

  Barnard’s Inn, 276, 333

  Barnet, 140

  Barnstaple, 218

  Barrington, Daines, 355

  Barton, Elizabeth, 31, 32

  Basinghall Street, 201

  Basket woman, the, 387

  Bassishaw, Ward of, 76

  Bath, 217, 376

  Bavaria, Duke of, 99, 100

  Baynard’s Castle, 12, 35, 181, 203, 417;
    Ward of, 76

  Beaumont, F., 247, 339

  Bedford, 217

  Beds, 278, 281, 284, 333

  Beggars and rogues, 19, 20, 29, 40, 41, 44, 147, 288, 291, 347,
    366–371, 380, 381, 385, 387

  Bele, Dr., 24, 25

  Bellmen, 63

  Bentley, Justice, 150, 151

  Bermondsey, 237, 370

  Berwick, 218

  Betrothal, 311, 312

  Bible, the, 45, 46, 70, 121, 127, 144, 178, 197, 227, 285

  Billingsgate, Ward of, 76

  Bishopsgate Street, 99, 195, 397

  Bishopsgate, Ward of, 76, 204

  Bishop of London, 30

  Black Death, 369

  Blackfriars, 128, 148, 203

  Blackheath, 7, 26

  Black Waggon, the, 26

  Blackwall, 191, 390

  Blackwell Hall, 43

  Bodmin, 218

  Boleyn, Anne, 30, 38, 39, 40

  Bond, Martin, 77, 78

  Bonham, John, 256

  Books, sale of, 244, 245, 246, 247, 272, 273

  Booksellers and authors, 247

  Borough, the, 333

  Boswell, 339

  Bow, 238

  Bowes, Sir J., 392

  Bowes, Lady, 150

  Boxley, Holy Rood of, 148

  Boy-Bishop, the, 46, 356, 364

  Boycott, the, 42

  Bradford, John, 58

  Bread Street, 200, 339, 403

  Bread Street, Ward of, 76

  Brecknock, 218

  Bricks, 276

  Bridewell, 185, 315

  Bridewell, Palace of, 28, 48, 132, 178

  Bridge foot, 53

  Bridge House, the, 313

  Bridge, J., 246

  Bridge Within, Ward of, 76

  Bridge Without, Ward of, 48

  Bridgewater, 218

  Bridgnorth, 217, 377

  Bridport, 218

  Bristol, 217, 376

  Britannia Fields, 356

  Brixton, 150

  Broad Street, 181, 202, 221, 355

  Broad Street, Ward of, 76

  Broad Water Worthing, 388

  Brockby, Anthony, 129

  Broken Wharf, 158

  Brome, 340

  Bromley, R., 136

  Brook, Robert, 49

  Browne, John, 259

  Browne, Sir T., 248

  Buckingham, 217

  Buckingham, Duke of, 30

  Bucklersbury, 180, 403

  Bunhill Fields, 16

  Burbage, James, 345, 346

  Burby, C., 246

  Burgundy, Margaret, Duchess of, 13

  Burleigh, 85, 143

  Burnell, Anne, 159

  Burroughs, 222

  Butchers, 151, 152

  Butcher Row, 44

  Butler, N., 246


  Cadman, 246

  Caerleon, 218

  Caermarthen, 218

  Calais, 62

  Cambridge, 218, 376

  Camden, 240

  Campeggio, Cardinal, 28, 39

  Campion, Edmund, 72, 81

  Candlewick, Ward of, 76

  Cannon Street, 44

  Canterbury, 140, 191, 217

  Canting, 367

  Capel, William, 12

  Cardiff, 218

  Cardmaker, J., 58, 140

  Carey, Henry, 389

  Carion, 284

  Carmillion, Alice, 258, 260

  Carpenter, John, 35, 375

  Carpets, 277, 278, 281

  Carter Lane, 273

  Carthusian martyrs, the, 111, 112, 132, 136

  Carver, D., 136

  Carving, 297, 298

  Casaubon, Isaac, 203

  Cason, Joan, 163, 164

  Caursini, 111

  Cavendish, Sir Charles, 150

  Cavendish, George, 286, 287

  Cavendish, Thomas, 222, 227

  Caverley, H., 257

  Caxton, 182, 244, 254

  Chancellor, Richard, 222, 234

  Chancery Lane, 44, 83

  Chaplains, domestic, 274

  Chapter House, 417

  Charing Cross, 155, 387

  Charity, 74, 369, 374–378

  Charnock Conspiracy, the, 81

  Charter House, 67

  Chaucer, 247

  Cheapside (Cheap, Chepe), 8, 20, 23, 25, 83, 90, 91, 142, 154, 158,
    180, 181, 203, 211, 337, 339, 347, 362, 371, 403;
    conduit in, 20, 90, 91;
    Cross in, 180, 403;
    Standard in, 90, 180

  Cheap, Ward of, 76

  Cheinie, Sir H., 392

  Chelsea, 86

  Chester, 218, 263

  Chicheley, R., 375

  Chichester, 217

  Child, Sir Josiah, 236

  Children of the Chapel, 349, 389

  Children of St. Paul’s, 349

  Children of the Revels, 349

  Children of Westminster, 349

  Children of Windsor, 349

  Children, treatment of, 274, 285

  Chiswell Street, 44

  Cholmeley, Ranulph, 91

  Christmas, 356–359

  Churches, 70, 290;
    behaviour in, 152–154, 272;
    bells, 147, 148, 171, 172;
    burials in, 315;
    changes in, 144–146;
    Feast of All Fools in, 356;
    Lord Mayor’s attendance at, 214;
    Mysteries in, 364;
    processions in, 148;
    ritual, 402;
    services in, 144, 145, 148;
    sword-stands in, 214;
    treatment of, 153:
      All Hallows, 176;
      St. Andrew’s by the Wardrobe, 201;
      St. Antholin’s, 148;
      St. Augustine’s, 118;
      St. Botolph’s, 192, 194;
      St. Bride’s, 140;
      St. Catherine Cree, 118;
      Chapel Royal, 262;
      St. Christopher le Stock, 145, 147, 148;
      St. Dunstan’s in the East, 78;
      St. Dunstan’s in the West, 94, 273;
      St. Ethelburga’s, 150;
      St. Giles’s, Cripplegate, 78, 176, 194, 227, 377;
      St. Gregory’s, 417;
      St. Helen’s, Bishopsgate, 77, 78;
      Holy Trinity, 118;
      Leadenhall Chapel, 40;
      St. Leonard’s, Shoreditch, 192, 193;
      St. Magnus, 397;
      St. Margaret’s, Lothbury, 147;
      St. Margaret Patens, 145;
      St. Margaret’s, Westminster, 58, 118, 140, 146;
      St. Mary Overies, 164;
      St. Mary Spital, 24;
      Mercer’s Chapel, 203;
      St. Michael’s, Eastcheap, 182, 339;
      St. Michael le Querne, 180;
      the Papey, 176;
      St. Paul’s Cathedral, 5, 9, 16, 40, 46, 47, 53, 98, 140, 150, 157,
        158, 177, 178, 180, 194, 212, 272, 358, 365, 407, 408;
      St. Peter-le-Poor, 118;
      St. Peter’s, Westminster, 194, 401;
      St. Thomas Acon, 97, 154;
      Westminster Abbey, 12, 20, 67, 96, 118, 387;
      Whitechapel, 44, 192

  Church ales, 290

  Church House, the, 155–157

  Cinque Ports, the, 218, 227

  Citizens, Musters of, 37, 38, 320–322

  City, the—and aliens, 13, 19, 23, 25, 42, 61, 80;
    and apprentices, 12, 13;
    and Cardinal Wolsey, 23;
    and charity, 371;
    and the companies, 17;
    and country trade, 13;
    and the drama, 342–345;
    the Earl of Essex, 83;
    and the Exchange, 220–222;
    and its Fleet, 77;
    fortified, 15;
    and the freemen, 130;
    and the French War, 23, 40, 62;
    government of, 209–215, 370;
    and the Great Beam, 43;
    and Henry VII., 4, 7, 8, 10–13;
    and Henry VIII., 16, 18–20, 38;
    and Katherine of Aragon, 38;
    and the manors, 194, 195;
    and the markets, 48;
    and the medical profession, 30;
    and military service, 75–80;
    and the monasteries, 40, 132;
    and its offices, 27;
    and the priests, 72;
    prosperity of, 172;
    and Protector Somerset, 49;
    and Protestantism, 148, 149;
    and Queen Elizabeth, 38, 84;
    and Queen Mary, 52, 62;
    and Roman Catholicism, 58;
    and the Russian Ambassador, 63;
    and sanitation, 13, 40, 42;
    separation of, from the Court, 272;
    and soldiers, 317;
    and the Sovereign, 18, 68;
    and the Spanish marriage, 57;
    state of, at death of Henry VIII., 44;
    and supplies of men and money, 42, 62, 75, 78;
    and trade, 13, 197;
    and vagrants, 370, 371

  City Companies, the, 8, 13, 20, 23, 53, 62, 76, 86, 110, 130, 231,
    234, 314, 315, 374;
    Joint-Stock, 236;
    Regulated, 236;
    Clothworkers, 377;
    Drapers, 232;
    Fishmongers, 315;
    Grocers, 43;
    Leathersellers, 172;
    Mercers, 35, 62, 221, 222, 232;
    Merchant Adventurers, 231–233, 237, 242;
    Merchant Taylors, 13, 35, 376, 377;
    Painter-Stainers, 259;
    Staplers, 231, 232;
    Stationers, 245, 246, 251, 317, 377;
    Water-bearers, 397

  City Constables, 20

  City Courts, 42

  City Granary, the, 42

  City Offices, 63

  City Watch, the, 20

  Clare Market, 199

  Clarence, Duke of, 181

  Cleaton, Ralph, 150

  Cleef, Joost van, 260

  Clement VII., Pope, 118, 119

  Clement’s Inn, 386

  Clergy, the, 4, 28, 30, 32, 33, 40, 42, 53, 56, 57, 64, 126, 149–151,
    244, 261

  Clerks, Company of, 314

  Clinton, Lord, his Company, 350

  Clochard, the, 180

  Cloth, manufacture of, 43

  Cloth Market, the, 43

  Clough, Richard, 220

  Cnihten Gild, 194

  Coaches, 198–200

  Coat-money, 318

  Cockaine, Sir W., 233

  Coinage, the, 47

  Colchester, 203, 217, 376

  Cold Harbour, 181

  Coleman Street, 201;
    Ward of, 76

  Colet, John, 34, 35, 376

  Collier, Payne, 251

  Commissioners for religion, 68

  Common Council, 24, 28, 48, 49, 63, 78, 323, 324, 373

  Common lands, 35, 36, 37

  Commons, House of, 43, 112, 149, 373

  Companies’ Halls, 176, 202, 325;
    Grocers’, 180, 209, 210;
    Haberdashers’, 201, 210;
    Mercers’ 180;
    Merchant Taylors’, 26, 209, 351, 355;
    Painter-Stainers’, 259;
    Sadlers’, 201;
    Water-bearers’, 397

  Conscience, Court of, 42

  Constables, 24

  Convocation, 40, 56

  Conway, Sir J., 388

  Cooke, Sarah, 163, 164

  Cooper, Elizabeth, 138

  Coppinger, Edmond, 158, 159

  Cordwainer Street, Ward of, 63, 76

  Corineus, 95, 263–265

  Cornelius Agrippa, 165

  Cornhill, 16, 20, 148, 220, 273, 337, 358, 362;
    Ward of, 35, 76, 214

  Cornish Rebellion, the, 7, 15, 47

  Corporation, the, 5, 43, 48, 77

  Corvus, Johannes, 258

  Coryat, Tom, 228

  Cosmo, Duke of Tuscany, 292

  Council, the King’s, 37, 72

  Counterfeit Crank, the, 386

  Coventry, 217, 263, 376

  Cowbridge, 218

  Craftsmen, 18, 42, 49, 136, 300, 301, 309

  Cranmer, 46, 53, 142, 146, 162

  Crimes, 81, 82, 367, 379–391

  Cripplegate, Ward of, 76

  Croker, C., 256

  Cromwell, Thomas, 30, 40, 219

  Crosby Hall, 181

  Cucking-stool, the, 388

  Cunningham, 217, 218, 238, 239


  Dacre, Lord, 155

  Dance of Death, the, 47, 180

  Danne, M., 376

  Dartmouth, 218

  Davis, John, 100

  Day, John, 246

  Dean of St. Paul’s, 30

  Dean’s Mews, 346

  Debtors, 43, 84, 288

  Dee, John, 165, 166

  Dekker, 248, 384

  Dell, the, 387

  Demander for Glymmar, the, 387

  Denton, 217

  Deptford, 7, 100, 228, 288, 389, 390

  Derby, 156, 376

  Derby, Earl of, 39;
    his Company, 350

  Des Periers, Bonaventure, 258

  Dialects, 254

  Dissent, 144

  Distress, 374

  Dobbs, Sir R., 48

  Doctor’s Commons, 276

  Dogs, 40

  Dolet, Etienne, 111, 258

  Dominican Friars, 28

  Dommerar, the, 386

  Donkin, Robert, 397

  Dorchester, 218

  Dorchester Street, 356

  Dorset, Marquis of, 39

  Dover, 62

  Dowgate, Ward of, 76

  Doxy, the, 387

  Drake, Francis, 77, 100, 181, 197, 222, 227, 228, 240, 288

  Drama, the, 248, 342, 343, 344, 347

  Draper, Christopher, 63

  Drapers’ Gardens, 201

  Drayton, Michael, 47

  Dress, 37, 38, 51, 53, 77, 102, 103, 104, 197, 198, 270–273, 303–312,
    318–320, 324, 325, 329, 338, 347, 362, 363, 377, 387, 392

  Dryden, John, 165

  Dudley, 12, 20, 30

  Dunkirk, 62

  Dunstable, 146

  Dutch traders, 235


  Eastcheap, 203, 302, 338

  East India Company, 222, 237

  Eastland Company, 236

  Education, 34, 35, 48, 221, 222, 260, 261, 274, 377, 398

  Edward VI.—state of City at his accession, 47;
    and the schools, 48;
    last appearance in public, 51, 233, 234;
    death and burial, 53

  Elizabeth, Queen—Accession, 64, 67;
    birth, 38, 65;
    at Mary’s entry into London, 52, 53;
    dress, 304;
    appearance, 65, 66, 103, 104;
    learning, 66, 104;
    character, 66;
    and Mary, 66;
    enters London, 67;
    and the City, 68, 76, 78, 84;
    and religion, 68, 70, 72, 96, 98;
    and aliens, 82;
    encourages trade, 83;
    and growth of London, 83;
    and Mary, Queen of Scots, 83, 84;
    and debtors, 84;
    death, 84;
    her progresses, 85;
    her palaces, 86, 98, 99;
    her coronation, 96;
    and sports, 98;
    and monopolies, 238;
    and Thomas Appletree, 389–391;
    and the drama, 343, 349, 351;
    and the beggars, 387;
    her hospitality, 99, 100;
    and Sir F. Drake, 100;
    and the Maundy, 100, 101;
    her Court at Greenwich, 102–105;
    her portraits, 105, 106

  Elizabeth, Lady (wife of Henry VII.), 5, 6

  Elstow, Convent of, 115

  Eltham, 59

  Emperor, the, 39

  Empson, 12, 20, 30

  Epping Forest, 36

  Erasmus, 111, 144, 250, 276, 286

  Erber, the, 181

  Essex, Earl of, 26, 83;
    his Company, 350

  Evil May Day, 24, 218, 242, 324

  Exchange, the Royal, 181, 197, 204, 219–222, 336, 341, 357, 403

  Executions, 8, 9, 20, 25, 26, 30, 31, 32, 38, 40, 47, 54, 55, 56, 57,
    59, 72, 80, 81, 82, 132–142, 159–161, 164, 326, 367, 372, 379, 387,
    414, 415

  Execution Dock, 82

  Exeter, 217, 376

  Exeter, Marquis of, 30

  Exmew, 136

  Explorers and adventurers, 222, 224–237


  Fabyan, Alderman, 8, 9, 284

  Family of Love, the, 160

  Famines, 216

  Fanatics, 158–161

  Farringdon Within, Ward of, 27, 76

  Farringdon Without, Ward of, 35, 76, 194, 259

  Fasting, 127, 151, 152

  Fawconer, T., Mayor, 193

  Feake, James, 388

  Feast of Fools, 356, 364

  Feckenham, Abbot, 155

  Felton, John, 71

  Fenchurch, 86

  Fenchurch Street, 20, 63, 362

  Ferrar, 58

  Ferrers, George, 43, 44

  Fetherstone, William, 59

  Fetter Lane, 44

  Feversham, 217

  Field, Richard, 246

  Finger-rings, 286

  Finsbury, 194, 355

  Finsbury archers, 355, 356

  Finsbury Fields, 16, 346

  Fish Market, 339

  Fish Street, 58, 203

  Fisher, Bishop, 30, 32, 111, 112,
  133, 136

  Fitch, Ralph, 222

  Fitz Stephen, 354

  Flammock, Attorney, 7

  Fleet River, 194, 417

  Fleet Street, 38, 44, 93, 185, 194, 217, 244, 340, 364

  Flemish immigrants, 80, 203, 204, 220, 237, 238, 258, 294, 347

  Fletcher, 247

  Flick, Gerbud, 258

  Flower, William, 58

  Fludd, Robert, 165

  Food and drink, 42, 43, 63, 77, 180, 181, 212, 292–302, 312, 313, 334,
    335, 368, 409–413

  Ford, 247

  Fore Street, 194

  Foreign goods, sale of, 13, 310

  Forest, Dr., 133–135

  Forks, 294, 295

  Forman, Sir W., 320

  Former, Simon, 165

  Foster, Agnes, 376

  Fowler, Sir R., 214

  Fox, John, 225, 226

  Foxe, John, 138, 246

  Frater, the, 386

  Fraternity of St. Thomas à Becket, 232

  _Fratres de Sacca_, 132

  Freemen, 130, 237, 317, 323, 327

  French War of 1557, 62

  Freshwater Mariners, the, 386

  Fretchvell, Sir Peter, 150

  Friars, the, 122–124, 126, 131, 135, 136, 291

  Friday Street, 339, 340

  Frobisher, Martin, 77, 78, 222, 227, 240, 388, 389

  Fulham, 238

  Fuller, John, 376

  Fuller, Thomas, 340

  Funerals, 154, 313–315

  Furniture, 277–284, 293, 335


  Gardens, 201, 202, 272

  Gardiner, Robert, 165

  Garret, Sir W., 210

  Gates, 8;
    Aldersgate, 176, 185, 387;
    Aldgate, 20, 38, 42, 44, 52, 160, 172, 181, 192, 362;
    Billingsgate, 337, 375, 384;
    Bishopsgate, 175, 185, 192;
    Cripplegate, 185, 194, 346, 377;
    Dowgate, 181, 204, 337;
    Ludgate, 176;
    Moorgate, 193;
    St. George’s Bar, 16;
    Temple Bar, 16, 44, 94, 95, 245, 246, 264, 340, 387;
    Tower Postern, 171

  Geffery, William, 159, 160

  Gell, Dr., 165

  Gentry, and apprenticeship, 330, 331

  George of Paris, 47

  Gerard’s _Herbal_, 202

  Giants, 95, 263–265, 363

  Gibson, Avice, 376

  Gifford, Sir George, 387

  Gilbert, Sir Humphrey, 77, 222, 227

  Gloucester, 58, 217, 376

  Gog and Magog, 95, 263–265

  _Golden Hind_, the, 228

  Golden Lane, 346

  Goldsmith, 339

  Goldsmiths’ Row, 200, 403

  Googe, Barnabe, 46, 132, 174

  Goswell Road, 387

  Goswell Street, 44

  Gower, 247

  Gracechurch Street, 16, 20, 87, 234, 302

  Grafton, R., 4, 5, 23, 26, 36, 39, 246, 248

  Grantham, 217

  Grasschurch, 362

  Grass Market, 339

  Gravesend, 241

  Gray’s Inn, 202, 276, 333

  Gray’s Inn Lane, 44

  Great Beam, the, 43

  Great Grimsby, 218

  Great Liberty Manor, 48

  Great Wycombe, 217

  Great Yarmouth, 217

  Greenland, 389

  Green Park, the, 388

  Greenwich, 27, 38, 68, 100, 233, 320, 351, 377, 389, 390

  Greenwich Palace, 51, 102

  Grenville, Sir R., 228

  Gresham, Lady, 220, 222

  Gresham, Sir J., 48, 49, 220, 363

  Gresham, Sir R., 126, 219

  Gresham, Sir T., 99, 181, 202, 219–221, 254, 257, 272, 286, 376

  Gresham Street, 201

  Greville, Lodowick, 388

  Grey, Lady Jane, 52–56

  Groom of the Salcery, 382

  Grub Street, 44

  Guildable Manor, 48

  Guildford, 217

  Guildhall, 16, 24, 42, 49, 53, 71, 210, 212, 264, 265, 326, 345

  Guilds, the, 38, 144, 218, 219

  Gutter Lane, 159


  Hackett, William, 158, 159

  Hackney, 40

  Haddington, 363

  Hadleigh, 58

  Hainault, Forest of, 36

  Hakluyt, 224–226, 233

  Hall, 248

  Hall, Bishop, 274

  Hamburg Company, the, 233

  Hamont, Matthew, 161

  Hampstead, 44

  Hampstead Heath, 35

  Hampton Court, 49, 86, 100, 260

  Hanseatic League, 13, 82, 231

  Harding, 284

  Harman, 384, 385

  Harrison, William, 200, 246, 250, 279, 293, 333, 344, 366–368, 372,
    379, 384

  Harty Island, 391

  Hatfield, 67

  Haverfordwest, 218

  Havre, 76

  Hawes, Christopher, 12

  Hawes, Lord Mayor, 214

  Hawkers and pedlars, 83

  Hawkins, Sir John, 77, 78, 227, 240

  Hawkwood, J., 257

  Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 202

  Helston, 218

  Henley, orator, 265

  Henry VII., 3–16;
    and the Earl of Warwick, 4, 6;
    enters London after Bosworth Field, 5;
    coronation, 5;
    and the Lady Elizabeth, 5, 6;
    and the City, 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, 13;
    and Perkin Warbeck, 9;
    and the plague, 9;
    builds his chapel, 12;
    and the Flemings, 13;
    his funeral, 16

  Henry VIII.—visits City, 16;
    and the City, 18–20, 26, 27, 28, 38, 39, 40, 42;
    his coronation, 20;
    his character, 21, 22;
    his poems, 21;
    and aliens, 24, 26;
    receives the Emperor, 26, 39;
    and Katherine of Aragon, 28, 38, 112;
    and Cardinal Wolsey, 28;
    and religion, 31, 32, 40;
    and the poorhouses, 41, 48;
    death 41, 44;
    and taxes, 42;
    Head of the Church, 112

  Henryk, 220

  Hentzner, Paul, 98, 99, 102, 191, 228, 277, 350

  Heralds, College of, 276

  Hereford, 217, 376

  Herrick, 359, 362

  Hertford, the Earl of, his Company, 350

  Hewitt, Sir W., 212, 214

  Heywood, 338

  Highgate, 36, 63, 234

  High Street, 44

  High Street, Borough, 186, 346

  Hill, Rowland, 43

  Hill, Sir T., 5

  Hills, R., 376, 377

  _Hind_, the, 227

  His Majesty’s servants, 350

  Hobbs, 235

  Hog Lane, 192

  Holbein, 258, 259

  Holborn, 44, 194, 246, 337, 363

  Holidays, 356

  Holinshed, 9, 10, 16, 22, 58, 248, 250, 279, 293, 294, 333

  Holywell, Lane, 346

  Holy Well Street, 44, 388

  Honiton, 237

  Hookers, 385

  Hooper, Bishop, 46, 58, 140, 250

  Hooper, H., 246

  Horenbout, Lucas, 258, 260;
    Gerard, 258, 260;
    Susanna, 258, 260

  Horn Alley, 58

  Horne, Robert, 68

  Hospitality, 155, 369

  Hospitals—St. Anthony’s, 34;
    St. Augustine Papey, 130;
    St. Bartholomew’s, 41, 130, 194, 222, 371, 373;
    Bethlehem, 41, 130, 159, 160, 192, 222, 371, 375, 377;
    Bridewell, 48, 372;
    Charter House, 176;
    Christ’s, 176, 222, 373, 376, 377;
    Elsing Spital, 41, 130, 375;
    St. James’s, 375;
    John Lofken’s, 375;
    St. Laurence Poultney, 375;
    St. Mary Spital, 130, 222, 375;
    Stodies Lane, 375;
    St. Thomas Acon, 34;
    St. Thomas’s, 48, 130, 222, 372, 373, 378;
    Tower Hill, 130;
    Whittington’s College, 74, 97

  Households, management of, 198

  Howard, Katherine, 30

  Howard, Lord, 54; his Company, 350

  Hoxton, 40, 193, 194, 356

  Hoxton Fields, 44, 388

  Huguenots, 237

  Huicke, Doctor, 68

  Hull, 217

  Hun, Richard, 32–34, 110

  Hunsdon, 86

  Huntingdon, Earl of, 39

  Husbands, R., 63

  Hyde Park Corner, 291


  Ilchester, 218

  Images, sacred, 144

  Immigrants, 200, 203, 237, 238

  Inns and taverns, 63, 180, 288, 294, 308, 309, 333–341, 343, 347, 384

  Ipswich, 118, 217, 376, 388

  Irving, Washington, 339

  Iseldon. See _Islington_

  Isle of Wight, the, 237

  Islington (Iseldon), 176, 193, 194, 291, 310, 356, 387


  Jackman, the, 386

  Jenkinson, A., 222, 224, 234, 235

  Jewel, Bishop, 162

  Jews, 204, 238–240

  Joan of Kent, 47

  Joan, Sister, 114

  Johnson, Richard, 254

  Jonson, Ben, 151, 163, 228, 247, 272, 294, 296, 297, 303, 307, 338,
    339, 340, 388

  Jordan, Thomas, 264

  Journeymen, 218, 219

  Judd, A., 376

  Jugglers, 273

  Juries, 13, 14, 42, 61, 62


  Katherine of Aragon, 9, 38, 134

  Keats, 340

  Keble, A., 376

  Kenilworth, 85

  Kent Street, 384

  Kentish Town, 416

  Kildare, Earl of, 30

  Kime, John, 391–393

  King John’s Palace, 181

  King’s bed, the, 282, 283

  King’s Court, punishment in, 382, 384

  King’s Evil, the, 164

  King’s Lynn, 217

  King’s Manor, 48

  King’s Mews, the, 205

  King’s Wardrobe, the, 181

  Kingston on Thames, 375

  Kissing, 286, 287, 312

  Knight, William, 205

  Knights of the Garter, 16

  Knoles, Thomas, 375

  Kynchen Cove, the, 387

  Kynchen Morte, the, 387


  Labrador, 389

  Lamb’s Conduit, 377

  Lambarde, William, 102

  Lambe, W., 377

  Lambert, 31

  Lambert, William, 377

  Lambeth, 155

  Lambeth Palace, 33

  Lancaster, 218

  Lane, Sir Robert, his Company, 350

  Laneden, T., 136

  Langbourne, Ward of, 76

  Langdon, Essex, 155

  Langland, Bishop, 115

  Langton, 284

  Large, Sir Robert, 182

  Latimer, 21, 46, 133, 140, 371, 372

  Launceston, 218

  Leadenhall, 42, 83, 358, 362

  Leadenhall Market, 43

  Leadenhall Street, 20, 43

  Leake, W., 246

  Leedes, William, 222

  Leicester, 218, 376

  Leicester, Earl of, 77, 85, 356–358, 391;
    his Company, 345, 351

  Leigh, Gerard, 356

  Lent, 151

  Leominster, 388

  Levant Company, the, 222, 237

  Lever, 371, 372

  Lewes, 218

  Libraries, 129

  Lilly, William, 165

  Lilypot Lane, 201

  Limehouse, 174, 191

  Lime Street, 142

  Lime Street, Ward of, 76

  Lincoln, 217, 376

  Lincoln, the Earl of, 389

  Lincoln, John, 24–26

  Lincoln’s Inn, 166

  Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 291

  Ling, 246

  Lingard, 143

  Liskeard, 218

  Litany, the, 145

  Literature, 244–258, 284, 285, 384

  Liverpool, 218

  Lofken, John, 375

  Lollardry, 33, 45, 110, 260

  Lombard Street, 24, 181, 215, 219, 403

  Lombardi, 203, 221

  London archers, 355

  London, Bishop of, 246

  London Bridge, 83, 203, 204, 259, 263, 313, 339, 397

  London Cries, 83

  London, growth of, 83

  London, military state of, 75, 76

  London, population of, 76, 77

  London, Port of, 240

  London Stone, 155, 203, 337

  London Wall, 171–176, 188, 193, 201

  London Worthies, the, 254–257

  Long Lane, 44

  Lord Admiral’s Company, the, 350

  Lord Chamberlain, the, 16, 39, 327, 328, 329, 345;
    his Company, 350

  Lord Mayor, the, 5, 10, 12, 13, 16, 24, 26, 27, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41,
    43, 44, 46, 49, 52, 53, 61, 62, 74, 78, 83, 86, 91, 98, 100, 151,
    152, 209–215, 264, 265, 313, 317, 324, 328, 342, 345, 373, 387, 397

  Lord Mayor’s Show, 264, 265

  Lord of Misrule, 288

  Lostwithiel, 218

  Lothbury, 44, 337

  Lotteries, 365

  Low, Simon, 391–393

  Ludgate Hill, 83

  Ludlow, 217, 377

  Lunebourg Table, the, 103

  Lydgate, 247

  Lyme, 217

  Lynn, 376

  Lynn Bishop, 217

  Lynne, William, 220

  Lyzarde, N., 260


  Machyn, Henry, 139, 154, 215, 313, 387

  Maidstone, 203, 377

  Maitland, 13, 15, 43, 49, 54, 74, 157, 212, 323, 325, 344, 384

  Maldon, 218

  Maleverer, H., 257

  Malpas, Philip, 375

  Malt, Isabel, 58

  Malt, Timothy, 59

  Malyns, 238

  Manorial system, the, 194, 216

  Maps of London, 185, 194, 417

  March, the old English, 317, 318

  Marching Watch, the, 49, 362, 363

  Margaret, Princess, 10

  Marine Insurance, 221

  Market gardens, 294

  Markets and fairs, 48, 62, 63, 83

  Markham, Gervase, 270

  Marlborough, 388

  Marlowe, 247

  Marriages, 311, 312

  Marshal, the, 382

  Marston, 247, 248, 265

  Martin, Sir R., 403

  Mary, Queen—and the Act of Succession, 38;
    enters London, 52, 53;
    and the City, 52, 53, 54, 62;
    coronation, 53;
    the Spanish match, 53, 54, 59;
    and Parliament, 56;
    and the French War, 62;
    loans, 62, 68;
    death, 63;
    burial, 67;
    and monasteries, 68;
    her appetite, 292

  Mary, Queen of Scots, 51, 83

  Masques, 351, 352

  Massam, William, 210

  Massinger, 247

  Master-cook, the, 382

  Maundy, the, 100

  May Day, 358–360

  Mead, 300

  Meat Market, 339

  Medicine, profession of, 30

  Merchants, 196, 217, 271, 272, 276, 306, 341;
     houses, 276

  Meteren, E. van, 269

  Micklethwaite, T. T., 144

  Middlemore, 136

  Middleton, William, 246

  Midsummer Watch, 360, 363

  Milbourne, J., 376

  Mile End, 37, 148, 320

  Mile End Green, 351

  Miles Lane, 339

  Millbank, 194

  Miller, Simon, 138

  Mincing Lane, 78

  Miracle plays, 343, 356

  Missenden, Abbey of, 116

  Misson, 287

  Monasteries, the—disrepute of, 110, 123;
    dissolution of, 112, 117, 118, 120, 121, 122, 124, 125, 126-132,
      143, 144, 148, 155, 200;
    wealth of, 112, 113, 119, 123, 172;
    morality of, 114, 115, 116, 117;
    libraries, 129, 257, 258;
    hospitals, 130;
    and the poor, 130, 131, 155, 172

  Monastic Houses, 28, 30, 68, 369, 370, 374, 375;
    Austin Friars, 120, 174, 186;
    St. Bartholomew’s, 120, 132, 174, 176, 185, 194;
    Bermondsey, 6, 186;
    Black Friars, 68, 119, 186;
    the Charter House, 119, 185, 194;
    the Church House, 174;
    Clerkenwell Nunnery, 185, 195;
    Cotham Nunnery, 116;
    Crutched Friars, 119, 142, 172, 174, 186;
    Daventry, 118;
    Eastminster, 119, 172, 174, 185;
    Elsing Spital, 174;
    Elstow, 115;
    _Fratres de Sacca_, 182;
    Grey Friars, 37, 119, 132, 171, 174, 176, 186;
    St. Helen’s, 119, 122, 172, 174, 186;
    Holy Trinity, 119, 130, 172, 174, 186;
    Holywell, 120, 174, 192, 346;
    St. James’ on the Wall, 174, 377;
    Jesus Commons, 122;
    St. John’s Priory, 185, 194;
    St Katherine’s by the Tower, 172, 191;
    Knights Hospitallers, 174, 176;
    St. Mary of Bethlehem, 132, 185;
    St. Mary Spital, 174, 185, 192, 193;
    Minoresses, 120;
    Papey, 174;
    St. Peter’s, Westminster, 122;
    Poor Clares, 172, 174;
    Studley, 116;
    St. Thomas’s, 132;
    White Friars, 120, 174, 185

  Money-lending, 238–240, 288

  Monks, the ejected, 122

  Monkwell Street, 201, 377

  Monopolies, 233, 238

  Monoux, Sir G., 27, 219, 376

  Montague, Lord, 63, 234

  Montgomery, 218

  Moore, John, 159, 160

  Moorfields, 36, 42, 185, 193, 194, 272, 355

  Moorgate, 201

  More, Bishop, 32

  More, Sir T., 30, 111, 112, 133, 136, 152, 186–190, 371

  More, Sir W., 284

  Morice, Peter, 397

  Moro, Antonio, 260

  Morris, Thomas, 397

  Mortlake, 238

  Moryson, Fynes, 228, 333, 335

  Mundy, Sir John, 24, 25

  Music, 262, 277, 290, 294, 338, 340

  Muswell Hill, 36, 40, 44


  Nailer, Henry, 391–393

  Nash, 248

  Nevill, Colonel John, 292

  Newbery, John, 222

  Newbury, 388

  Newcastle, 217, 376

  Newdigate, 136

  New Fish Street, 337, 360

  Newgate Market, 337

  Newhall, Essex, 52

  New North Road, 356

  Newport, 218

  New Radnor, 218

  New St. Christopher’s Alley, 220

  Newton, Sir J., 165

  New Year’s gifts, 102

  Nichols, J. G., 259

  Nicolas, A., 376

  Noblemen’s houses, 97

  Noble Street, 201

  Nonconformists, 59, 144

  Nonsuch, 86, 260

  Norfolk, Duke of, 26

  North, Lord, 58

  Northampton, 217, 376

  Northumberland, Duke of, 51

  Northumberland House, 181

  Norton, 246

  Norton Folgate, 192

  Norwich, 203, 217, 237, 376

  Nostradamus, 165

  Nottingham, 217

  Noyes, J., 137, 138

  Nucius, Nicander, 287


  Oat Lane, 201

  Observant Friars, 135, 136

  Offley, H., 351

  Old Baily, the, 159

  Old Change, 158

  Old Fish Street, 337

  Old Jewry, 182

  Ordeal by battle, 391–393

  Order of Communion, the, 144

  Ordinaries, 294, 301, 302

  Ordish, M., 273

  Ormes, Cicely, 138

  Ormond, T., 136

  Osborne, Richard, 212

  Osborne, Sir E., 210, 212

  Oxenham, Sir J., 182

  Oxford, 6, 118, 142, 217, 376, 388

  Oxford, Earl of, 39

  Oxford, University of, 261


  Pageants, 20, 22, 23, 37–40, 51, 53, 63, 67, 86–96, 183, 211, 212,
    263–265, 362, 363, 400, 401

  Painting, 258–260

  Palls, 315

  Paramore, Thomas, 391–393

  Pardon Churchyard, 180

  Paris Gardens, 74, 203, 346, 347, 352

  Parishes, 148;
    officers, 373;
    All Hallows the Great, 34;
    St. Andrew’s, Holborn, 34;
    St. Andrew Undershaft, 259;
    St. Dunstan’s in the East, 34;
    St. Faith’s, 377;
    St. Giles’s, Cripplegate, 77;
    St. Leonard’s, Shoreditch, 388;
    St. Martin’s, 34, 148;
    St. Mary le Bow, 34;
    St. Paul’s, 34;
    St. Peter’s, Cornhill, 34

  Parker, Archbishop, 155, 340

  Parker, Henry, 260

  Parker, Sir H., 281

  Parliament, 38, 48, 56

  Parrat, Sir John, 90, 93

  Parry, William, 81

  Parsons, 72

  Paternoster Row, 273

  Patrick, friar, 9

  Paul’s Churchyard, 93

  Paul’s Cross, 77, 78, 160, 178, 180, 342

  Paul’s Gate, 362

  Paul’s Walk, 347

  Pawnbroking, 238

  Peele, 247, 248, 365

  Pembroke, 218

  Pembroke, Earl of, 51, 62;
    his Company, 350

  Penbrooke, Simon, 164

  Penni, B., 260

  Pepwell, Henry, 246

  Perlin, Stephen, 190, 191

  Persecution, religious, 31, 33, 34, 47, 58, 112, 133–142, 160, 161

  Petty Almaigne, 204

  Petty Flanders, 204

  Petty France, 44, 204

  Philip of Spain, 61

  Philpot, Archdeacon, 140

  Philpot, John, 375

  Philpot, Mayor, 227, 254, 257

  Philpot, Somerset Herald, 330

  Physicians, 143

  Physicians, College of, 30

  Picard, Henry, 255

  Pickpockets, School of, 384

  Pie Powder, Court of, 48

  Pilchard, Henry, 255

  Pilgrimage of Grace, the, 39

  Pillory, the, 20

  Pimlico, 310

  “Pink,” 259

  Pirates, 82, 217, 222, 236, 257

  Plague, the, 9, 29, 40, 147, 200, 216, 344, 369, 374

  Plants, London, 404, 405

  Plate, 283, 284

  Players, 97, 349, 350

  Plays, ownership of, 350;
    price of, 350

  Plymouth, 43, 78, 218

  Poetry, 175

  Poets, Elizabethan, 247, 248

  Pole, Cardinal, 58

  Polley, M., 136

  Ponsonby, 246

  Pontefract, 217

  Poole, 217

  Poole, Sir J., 150, 151

  Poor, the, 130, 131, 366–378;
    poorhouses, 41, 48;
    overseers of, 373;
    relief of, 368, 371–375

  Pope, the, claims of, 111;
    and Queen Elizabeth, 70–72

  Population, 200

  Portsmouth, 217

  Portsoken, Ward of, 76, 172, 194

  Portuguese, 203

  Poultry, the, 180

  Prayer Book, the, 144

  Press, censorship of, 245, 246

  Presteign, 218

  Preston, 218

  Printing, 244–246, 272

  Prisons—Bridewell, 48, 159, 327, 373, 386, 387;
    Clink, 347;
    Compters, 25, 43, 63;
    Debtors’, 130, 288;
    Houses of Correction, 368, 373, 374;
    King’s Bench, 48,  222;
    Ludgate, 16, 222, 331, 376;
    Marshalsea, 12, 48, 59, 159, 160, 222, 388, 390;
    St. Martin’s, 25;
    Newgate, 24, 25, 28, 44, 71, 80, 133, 134, 140, 142, 160, 176, 222;
    Poultry Compter, 25, 222;
    the Tower, 6, 8, 25, 38, 44, 136, 388;
    Wood Street Compter, 25, 159, 222

  Privy Council, the, 373, 374

  Protestantism, 98, 121, 127, 133, 136–142, 146, 148

  Provost-Marshal, the, 326

  Prygger of Prauncers, the, 386

  Prynne, 343

  Punishments, 147, 155, 159, 160, 161, 273, 274, 325, 367, 368, 370,
    371, 372, 373, 379–384, 386, 387, 388, 391

  Puritans, 74, 121, 127, 128, 148, 262, 273, 312

  Pynson, R., 244, 246


  Queenborough, 217

  Queen Elizabeth’s Bath, 205

  Queenhithe, Ward of, 76


  Rabelais, 111, 258

  Raleigh, Sir W., 222, 247

  Ramsay, M., 376

  Randoll, William, 164

  Ratcliff, 174, 191, 227, 233, 390

  Rawson, R., 376

  Reading, 376

  Rebellions, 47, 53, 54, 62, 83

  Recorder, the, 16, 37, 50, 91, 210, 328, 387

  Recusants, 143

  Red Cross Street, 77

  Redman, Robert, 246

  Redriff, 227

  Reformation, the, 45, 46, 112

  _Revenge_, the, 228

  Rich, Barnaby, 247

  Rich, Lord, 388

  Richard of Almayn, 116

  Richmond, 16

  Richmond Palace, 86

  Ridley, 46, 48, 133, 140

  Riots, 13, 23–26, 37, 41, 57, 58, 243, 326, 387

  Rochester, 217

  Rochford, Lord, 30

  Rochford, Lady, 30

  Rogers, Dr. John, 46, 58, 140

  Roman Catholics, 70, 143, 144

  Roman Catholic emissaries, 71–74, 81

  Roman Church, the, 4, 40, 112, 113

  Rome, commerce with, 43

  Roundels, 293

  Rowe, Sir T., 376, 377

  Rowlands, 384

  Rozmital, Leo von, 286

  Rushes, floors covered with, 276

  Russia Company, the, 82, 234–236

  Russia, trade with, 222

  Rutland, Earl of, 39


  Sackvile, 247

  Sackville, Sir R., 68

  St. David’s, 58

  St. Donanverdh, 116

  St. Erkenwald, 257

  St. George’s Fields, 386

  St. Giles’, 215

  St. Helen’s Place, 201

  St. James’s Palace, 86

  St. James’s Park, 363

  St. John’s Street, 44

  St. Katherine’s, 288

  St. Katherine’s Precinct, 185

  St. Magnus Corner, 203

  St. Martin’s-le-Grand, 42

  St. Michael’s Churchyard, 338

  St. Michael’s Lane, 339

  St. Pancras, 194

  St. Paul’s Churchyard, 71, 180, 246, 273, 340

  St. Peter, Manor of, 194

  St. Quentin, 62

  St. Thomas à Becket, 232, 254, 257, 375

  Salisbury, 7, 217, 263, 376

  Salisbury, Lady, 30

  Sanctuary, 155

  Sanctuary, Westminster, 363

  Sands, Dr., 59

  Sandwich, 203, 237

  Sandys, 153

  Sanitation, 13, 29, 30, 40, 42

  Saunders, Lawrence, 58

  Savage, Mr., 68

  Savoy, Duke of, 62

  Savoy, Palace of, 48, 181

  Savoy, the, 203

  Saxe-Weimar, Duke of, 228

  Scarborough, 217, 388

  Schools, 260, 261, 376–378;
    St. Anthony’s, 74, 148;
    of London, 35, 222;
    Sir Humphrey Gilbert’s, 398;
    Grammar Schools, 34, 35;
    Gresham College, 181, 182, 221, 222;
    Grey Friars, 48;
    Merchant Taylors’, 376, 377;
    St. Paul’s, 93, 376;
    Westminster Abbey, 155;
    Whittington College, 74

  Seething Lane, 142, 182

  Sentree, the, 337

  Serjeant-at-Arms, 43

  Serjeant of the Ewry, 382

  Serjeant Farrier, 382

  Serjeant of the Cellar, 382

  Serjeant of the Larder, 382

  Serjeant of the Pantry, 384

  Serjeant of the Poultry, 382

  Serjeant of the Woodyard, 382

  Sermons, 149, 153, 154, 178, 254

  Servants, 271, 273, 275, 276, 309

  Sessions of Peace, 42

  Sevenoake, W., 256

  Seymour, Lady Jane, 126

  Seymours, the, 47

  Shakespeare, 203, 238, 246, 247, 278, 281, 282, 287, 338, 340, 346,
    349, 350

  Sharpe, 53, 74, 77

  Shaston, 218

  Shaw, Sir John, 209

  Shene, 8

  Shene House, 68

  Sheppey, Isle of, 391

  Sherborne, 218

  Sheriffs, 8, 12, 37, 42–44, 71, 210, 302, 309

  Sheriff Hutton Castle, 4, 5

  Sherrington’s Library, 180

  Shipping, increase of, 240

  Shirley, 264

  Shoe Lane, 44, 244

  Shops, 83, 84, 191, 198, 199, 200, 272, 276, 310, 403

  Shop Signs, 273

  Shoreditch, 5, 44, 192, 193, 194, 356, 388

  Shrewsbury, 217, 376

  Shrewsbury, Earl of, 26, 214

  Sidney, Sir W., 43

  Silk, trade in, 235

  Simnel, Lambert, 6

  Skelton, 247, 248

  Skogan, 248, 365

  Smithfield, 34, 44, 47, 58, 59, 68, 134, 139, 140, 142, 160, 176, 185,
    191, 203, 355

  Smyth, Henry, 246

  Soames, Richard, 397

  Soldiers, 316–322

  Somerset House, 67, 100

  Somerset, Protector, 49, 51

  Somerton, 218

  Southampton, 203, 217, 233, 376

  Southwark, 16, 48, 164, 346, 347, 378, 384, 390

  Spain, plots from, 80;
    immigrants from, 80

  Spain, war with, 43

  Spaniards in London, 59, 61

  Spencer, Gabriel, 388

  Spenser, Edmund, 247

  Spital sermon, 24

  _Squirrel_, the, 227

  Stadlow, George, 49

  Stafford, 217

  Standish, Dr., 24

  Staple Inn, 232, 333

  Star Chamber, 32, 62

  Steelyard, the, 13, 82, 100, 417

  Stocker, Sir W., 5

  Stocks, the, 362

  Stockwood, John, 342

  Stoddart, George, 240

  Stodie, Doll, 256

  Stone House, the, 181

  Storey, Dr. John, 81

  Stow, 117, 118, 171–183, 191, 248, 265, 313, 320, 338, 347, 358, 360,
    362, 375, 389, 390, 403

  Strand, 38, 44, 186, 337

  Strange, Lord, his Company, 350

  Stratford, 217

  Stratford-at-Bow, 140, 142

  Streets—state of, 29, 30, 191, 199;
    games in, 273; paving of, 44;
    performances in, 273;
    policing of, 63, 324

  Street Cries, 198

  Streets (Strettes) Guillim, 260

  Strype, 327

  Stubbes, Philip, 153, 156, 166, 271, 287, 288, 289, 290, 305, 310,
    359, 374, 375

  Suburbs, 44, 200

  Succession, Act of, of 1534, 38

  Suckley, H., 43

  Suffolk, Duchess of, 100

  Suffolk, Duke of, 26, 39, 48

  Sumptuary laws, 310

  Sun Street, 397

  Sunday, observance of, 154, 273, 289, 343, 344, 345, 352

  Superstition, 162–167, 306, 307

  Surrey, Earl of, 26, 30

  Sussex, Earl of, 39;
    his Company, 350

  Sutton Valence, 377

  Swan Alley, 220

  Swansea, 218

  Swearing, 285, 286

  Sweating sickness, 5, 29, 47

  Sword-stands, 214

  Sylvester, 247

  Symon, Sir R., 6

  Syon House, 68


  Talismans, 164, 165

  Tarleton, 248

  Tate, John, 376

  Taunton, 218

  Tavistock, 218

  Taxes, 40, 42, 48, 217, 372, 373

  Taylor, John, 240

  Taylor, Rowland, 58

  Temple, the, 203, 356, 386

  Tenby, 218

  Terling, Levina, 258, 260

  Thames, River, 11, 39, 67, 86, 100, 186, 194, 197, 211, 288, 351, 389,
    397

  Thames Street, 13, 181, 197, 360

  Theatres, 175, 176, 240, 273, 288, 289, 331, 342–365;
    interior of, 348, 349;
    Curtain, 343, 346;
    Fortune, 346;
    Globe, 241, 346, 347;
    Hope, 347;
    Rose, 241, 347;
    Swan, 241, 347;
    The Theatre, 343, 346;
    Whitehall, 349

  Theobalds, 85

  Thorne, George, 391–393

  Thorpe, 246

  Throgmorton, Nicholas, 61, 62, 157

  Tilbury, 77

  Tithes, 28

  Tobacco, 181, 285, 348, 354

  Tombs, 146

  Torture, 31, 72

  Tothill Fields, 391

  Toto, Antonio, 260

  Tottell, Richard, 246, 340

  Tottenham Court, 416

  Tower, the, 25, 39, 49, 67, 96, 99, 203, 263

  Tower Ditch, 42, 194

  Tower Hill, 9, 59, 130, 326, 390

  Tower Postern, 42

  Tower Royal, the, 181, 203

  Tower Stairs, 417

  Tower Street, 96

  Tower Street, Ward of, 76

  Towns, dilapidated state of, 217, 218

  Trade—revival of in sixteenth century, 18, 197, 219–237;
    and the Spanish War, 43;
    decay of, 216–219;
    restrictions on, 62, 63, 84;
    and Queen Elizabeth, 83;
    foreign trade, 83, 230–237, 241–243;
    and aliens, 237–242;
    and monopolies, 233, 238;
    money-lending, 238–240, 288;
    commercial treaties, 242

  Trafalgar Square, 205

  Trained Bands, 16, 39, 76–78, 309

  Trees, 201

  Truro, 218

  Tudson, J., 136

  Tumblers, 273

  Turberville, 8

  Turkey Company, 236, 237

  Tyburn, 7, 9, 32, 59, 71


  Uniformity, Act of, 69

  Upright Men, the, 384, 387

  Usk, 218

  Usury, 238

  Uxbridge, 140


  Vagrants, 370–373

  Venner, 143

  Vergil, Polydore, 283

  Vestments, 146, 147, 148

  Vintry, the, 337

  Vintry, Ward of, 76

  Volpe, Vincent, 258, 260


  Wade, Christopher, 136

  Wages and salaries, 244, 259, 260, 296, 369

  Walbrook, 140

  Walbrook, River, 188, 194

  Walbrook, Ward of, 76

  Waleys, Mayor, 257

  Walking Morte, the, 387

  Walsingham, Sir F., 124, 182

  Walthamstow, 376

  Walworth, William, 255

  Wandsworth, 238

  Wapping, 227, 288, 370

  Warbeck, Perkin, 6–9

  Warde, 246

  Wardrobe, 201

  Warne, J., 136

  Warren, J., 136

  Warwick, 218, 376, 388

  Warwick, the Earl of, 4, 6, 8, 9, 181;
    his Company, 350

  Watchmen, 374

  Water Lane, 44

  Watermen, 240, 241, 389

  Water-supply, 40, 44, 188, 193, 194, 285, 377, 397

  Watling Street, 158

  Wats, T., 136

  Webbe, Sir W., 254

  Weddings, 304, 312, 313

  Welford, Sir T., 326

  Wellington Square, Hoxton, 356

  Wells, river of the, 188

  Wentworth, Lord, 97

  Westchepe, Cross of, 12

  Westchester, 376

  Westminster, 38, 43, 44, 53, 58, 63, 67, 100, 211, 363, 368, 387

  Westminster, Abbot of, 96

  Westminster Hall, 8, 26, 31, 155, 203

  Westminster Palace, 60

  Weymouth, 218

  Whale-fishing, 235

  Wheeler, John, 232

  Whipjack, 386

  Whipping, 59

  Whitchurch, 388

  White, E., 246

  White, Sir Thomas, 256, 376

  Whitechapel, 194

  White Cross Street, 44, 194

  Whitehall, 86, 98, 99, 320

  Whitsuntide, 360, 362

  Whittington, 176, 182, 254, 257, 375

  Wigan, 218

  Wilford, Ralph, 9

  Willesden, 194

  William, Bishop, 98

  Williams, the martyr, 136

  Willoughby, Sir Hugh, 51, 222, 233

  Wiltshire, Earl of, 26, 39

  Wimbledon, Lord, 317

  Winchelsea, 217

  Winchester, 7, 217, 376

  Windows, 276

  Windsor, 51, 241

  Windsor Castle, 86

  Wine, 43, 180, 190, 210, 271, 292, 293, 294, 300, 334, 337

  Wise, 246

  Witchcraft, 82, 163–164

  Wither, George, 265

  Wolsey, Cardinal, 23, 24, 26, 27, 42, 43, 112, 118, 119, 155, 283, 286

  Women—position of wives, 269, 270, 271;
    dress, 270, 271;
    ostentation of, 272;
    amusements, 273;
    and smoking, 285

  Wood, Anthony à, 156, 261

  Wood, Thomas, 403

  Wootton Bassett, 388

  Worcester, 217, 376

  Worcester, Earl of, 39;
    his Company, 350

  Worsley, 260

  Wotton, 384

  Wright, Andrew, 259, 260

  Wurtemberg, Duke of, 203

  Wyatt’s Rebellion, 53, 54, 62

  Wych Street, 44

  Wyclyf, 4, 123

  Wyndham, 388

  Wynkyn de Worde, 244

  Wythypool, P., 27, 28


  Yeoman of the Chandry, 382

  Yeoman of the Scullery, 382

  Yeomen of the Guard, 5

  Yeomen of the Laundry, 100

  York, 217

  York Castle, 239

  York, John, 49


                                THE END

           _Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_.


[Illustration: LONDON IN THE TIME OF THE TUDORS. A REPRODUCTION,
REDUCED, OF THE MAP BY RALPH AGAS, CIRCA 1560.

_From a facsimile reproduction of the original map by Edward J.
Francis, in the possession of John C. Francis._

Lithographed by W. & A. K. Johnston Limited Edinburgh & London

MAP ACCOMPANYING “LONDON IN THE TIME OF THE TUDORS BY SIR WALTER
BESANT, PUBLISHED BY ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK, SOHO SQUARE, LONDON,
1904]

{Transcription:
  This antient and famous City of London, was first founded by
  _Brate_ the Trojan, in the year of the World two thousand,
  eight hundred thirty & two, and before the Nativity of our
  Saviour Christ, one thousand, one hundred and 30. So that since
  the first building, it 2 thousand 6 hundred 60 & 3 years. And
  afterward was repaired and enlarged by King _Lud._ but at the
  present so flourisheth, that it containeth in length from the
  East to the West about 3. English miles, from the North to the
  South about 2 English miles. It is also so plentifully peopled,
  that it is divided into a hundred and 22 Parishes within the
  Liberties, besides 16 Parishes that are in the suburbs. It
  is planted on a very good soyle: for on the one side it is
  compassed with come & pasture ground, on the other side it is
  inclosed with the river of Thames, which not only aboundeth in
  all kind of fresh water-fish, but also is so navigable, that
  it as well bringeth abundance of commodities from all parts
  of the World, as also conveieth forth such commodities as the
  plentifulnesse of our Contry doth yield us: which both augments
  the fame thereof abroad, and also increaseth the riches thereof
  at hom; so that as it is head and chief City of the whole
  Realm, so it is likewise head and chief Chamber of the whole
  Realm, as well for our outward and inward commodities. God
  prosper it at his pleasure Amen.

    New Troy my name: when first my fame begun
    By Trajan Brute: who then me placed here:
    On fruitfull soyle, where pleasant Thames doth run
    Sith Lud my Lord, my King and Lover dear,
    Encreast my boundes and London (far that rings
    Through Regions large) he called then my name
    How famous since (I stately seat of Kings)
    Have flourish’d aye: let others that proclaim.
    And let me joy thus happy still to see
    This vertuous Peer my Soveraign King to be.}


       A Companion Volume to “London in the Time of the Tudors”
+----------------------------------------------------------------------+
|                                                                      |
|                             L O N D O N                              |
|                                                                      |
|                      IN THE TIME OF THE STUARTS                      |
|                                                                      |
|                         BY SIR WALTER BESANT                         |
|                                                                      |
|   _In One Volume, Demy 4to, Cloth, Gilt Top, 410 pages, containing   |
|      115 Illustrations, mostly from Contemporary Prints, and a       |
|      reproduction of Ogilby and Morgan’s Map of London, 1677._       |
|                                                                      |
|                           PRICE =30s.= NET                           |
+----------------------------------------------------------------------+
|                         SOME PRESS OPINIONS                          |
|                                                                      |
| ‘Most readable and interesting.... It is a mine in which the         |
| student alike of topography and of manners and customs may dig       |
| and dig again with the certainty of finding something new and        |
| interesting.’—_The Times._                                           |
|                                                                      |
| ‘No lover of London can fail to be grateful to the late Sir Walter   |
| for his many carefully studied pictures of its ancient life,         |
| pictures often quaint and amusing, and bearing always the mark       |
| of earnest and minute research.... The general reader will find      |
| in this volume a world of interesting suggestion.’—_The Daily        |
| Chronicle._                                                          |
|                                                                      |
| ‘We are again reminded of the vast debt which London owes to the     |
| late Sir Walter Besant by the appearance of this sumptuously         |
| printed and beautifully illustrated book, the second volume of       |
| his great Survey of London—unquestionably his _magnum opus_, upon    |
| which his fame will chiefly rest.... A book which should be in       |
| the library of every one who takes an intelligent interest in the    |
| history and development of London.’—_The Daily Telegraph._           |
|                                                                      |
| ‘A work of great interest, eminently readable, and full of curious,  |
| interesting, and original matter.’—_Westminster Gazette._            |
|                                                                      |
| ‘The pen of the ready writer here is fluent; the picture wants       |
| nothing in completeness. The records of the city and the kingdom     |
| have been ransacked for facts and documents, and they are here       |
| marshalled with consummate skill. In surveying the political         |
| history of London from James I. to Queen Anne, Sir Walter Besant     |
| reveals himself as an unsparing and impartial historian, and in      |
| this respect alone the work must command our admiration and our      |
| praise. But there is also included the most vivid presentation of    |
| the story of the Great Plague and the Great Fire that has ever been  |
| brought between the covers of one book.’—_The Pall Mall Gazette._    |
|                                                                      |
| ‘It is impossible to speak too highly of this endeavour to say all   |
| that is worth saying about London, and to say it in a manner which   |
| shall at once satisfy the historical student and attract public      |
| attention.’—_Yorkshire Post._                                        |
|                                                                      |
| ‘Much has hitherto been written, both by way of fact and fiction,    |
| as well as by a blend of each, to describe London in its grievous    |
| trials of pestilence and flame; but Sir Walter Besant has here       |
| gathered together by far the most graphic and the most trustworthy   |
| accounts that have hitherto been penned.’—_The Guardian._            |
|                                                                      |
| ‘The whole work is one of singular interest because the subject      |
| is treated with the lightness of touch and descriptive power not     |
| always attained by antiquarian writers.’—_The Record._               |
|                                                                      |
| ‘This handsome volume furnishes a fascinating record, both           |
| pictorial and literary, of seventeenth century London, such as can   |
| be found nowhere else. To the student it will be invaluable; to the  |
| general reader with antiquarian interests and a taste for social     |
| history, a never-failing source of delight.’—_The Contemporary       |
| Review._                                                             |
|                                                                      |
| ‘There is not a dull page in the book, and the fact that the         |
| treatment is somewhat discursive makes the volume more delightful.   |
| We can give no idea of its variety and its charm, but every one      |
| who wishes to know the London of two hundred and fifty years ago     |
| will feel, as he opens this volume, that he has stepped back into    |
| that world of great events, and will live again through its civil    |
| discord, its Plague, and Fire, and its strange superstitions.’—_The  |
| London Quarterly Review._                                            |
+----------------------------------------------------------------------+
|                             PUBLISHED BY                             |
|      ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK, 4, 5, & 6 SOHO SQUARE, LONDON, W.       |
+----------------------------------------------------------------------+

       A Companion Volume to “London in the Time of the Tudors”
+----------------------------------------------------------------------+
|                                                                      |
|                             L O N D O N                              |
|                                                                      |
|                      IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY                       |
|                                                                      |
|                         BY SIR WALTER BESANT                         |
|                                                                      |
|   _In One Volume, Demy 4to, Cloth, Gilt Top, 680 pages, containing   |
|   104 Illustrations, mostly from Contemporary Prints, and a Map._    |
|                                                                      |
|                           PRICE =30s.= NET                           |
+----------------------------------------------------------------------+
|                         SOME PRESS OPINIONS                          |
|                                                                      |
| ‘Turn where you will in his pages, you get some interesting          |
| glimpse which opens up the past and illumines the present.’—_The     |
| Contemporary Review._                                                |
|                                                                      |
| ‘A handsome and very interesting book is the result, for which the   |
| curious reader and the student will alike be grateful.... Gives an   |
| admirable impression of the times.’—_The Spectator._                 |
|                                                                      |
| ‘It is excellently planned and very ably and agreeably executed....  |
| The chief charm of this work is the pleasantness of the style in     |
| which it is written—easy, clear, and individual. To the accuracy     |
| of the ideal historian Sir Walter added the picturesqueness of the   |
| popular novelist.’—_The Globe._                                      |
|                                                                      |
| ‘It forms a sumptuous volume, and is marked, of course, by minute    |
| research and enthusiastic interest. Will be a thoroughly engrossing  |
| study for all those—and they are now many—to whom the past of the    |
| Empire’s capital is a subject of the keenest fascination.’—_St.      |
| James’s Gazette._                                                    |
|                                                                      |
| ‘To praise this book were superfluous. Sir Walter was ideally        |
| suited for the task which he set himself. He was an antiquarian,     |
| but not a Dryasdust; he had the topographical sense, but he spares   |
| us measurements; he was pleasantly discursive; if he moralised he    |
| was never tedious; he had the novelist’s eye for the romantic.       |
| Above all, he loved and reverenced London. Though only a Londoner    |
| by adoption, he bestowed upon the capital a more than filial         |
| regard. Besant is the nineteenth century Stow, and something         |
| more.... This remarkable volume.... It is a monument of faithful     |
| and careful research.’—_The Daily Telegraph._                        |
|                                                                      |
| ‘Will be of the utmost value to every student of the life and        |
| history of London.’—_The Standard._                                  |
|                                                                      |
| ‘Altogether this posthumous work of the historian of London is one   |
| of the most fascinating books which he ever wrote.’—_The Municipal   |
| Journal._                                                            |
|                                                                      |
| ‘It is a wonderfully complete history.... Will probably stand to     |
| all time as the brightest and most authoritative book on a period    |
| which is bound, by its very evils, to have a fascination for the     |
| student of customs and manners, and for the student of national      |
| development.’—_The Liverpool Post._                                  |
|                                                                      |
| ‘The book is engrossing and its manner delightful.’—_The Times._     |
|                                                                      |
| ‘A work of great value and interest; ... profoundly                  |
| interesting.’—_The Westminster Gazette._                             |
|                                                                      |
| ‘Of facts and figures such as these this valuable book will be       |
| found full to overflowing, and it is calculated, therefore, to       |
| interest all kinds of readers, from the student to the dilettante,   |
| from the romancer in search of matter to the most voracious student  |
| of “Tit-Bits.”’—_The Athenæum._                                      |
|                                                                      |
| ‘Stimulating, edifying, interesting, horrifying, in turns, the book  |
| has not a dull moment.... As it is the best, it will surely prove    |
| the most prized and popular of modern books on London.’—_Notes and   |
| Queries._                                                            |
|                                                                      |
| ‘The work is copiously illustrated with reproductions of old         |
| prints, and is altogether a delightful and fascinating guide to      |
| the Metropolis at an eventful period of its history.’—_Pall Mall     |
| Gazette._                                                            |
|                                                                      |
| ‘Of the present lordly quarto volume it may be said that it fairly   |
| represents that “Survey” which Sir Walter Besant conceived, and      |
| which he used to refer to as his _magnum opus_. It is a worthy       |
| literary monument to his deep knowledge and love of London.’—_The    |
| Academy._                                                            |
|                                                                      |
| ‘Besant’s interesting and valuable book.’—_Manchester Guardian._     |
|                                                                      |
| ‘It is assuredly a delightful book to lose oneself in, and so to     |
| think one’s way back into a simpler and perhaps, after all, a        |
| merrier England.’—_The Bookman._                                     |
|                                                                      |
| ‘A book to be treasured and studied.... The work as a whole is a     |
| notable achievement, and will stand as the classical authority on    |
| eighteenth century London.’—_The Speaker._                           |
+----------------------------------------------------------------------+
|                             PUBLISHED BY                             |
|      ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK, 4, 5, & 6 SOHO SQUARE, LONDON, W.       |
+----------------------------------------------------------------------+


                              FOOTNOTES:

  [1] Richard Grafton, Chronicler, born _circa_ 1572.

  [2] “Mortuary = a gift left by a man at his death to his parish
  church for the recompence of his personal tythes and offerings
  not duly paid in his lifetime” (_Johnson’s Dictionary_).

  [3] _History of London_, Book I. p. 255.

  [4] _Pawne_ = a gallery.

  [5] William Harrison, who wrote “The Description of England”
  for Holinshed’s _Chronicles_.

  [6] Holinshed’s _Chronicles_.

  [7] Or fee-farm rent.

  [8] Many of these details were published for the first time in
  Sharpe’s _London and the Kingdom_, i. 494 _et seq._

  [9] A rich and precious stuff composed of silk with threads of
  gold.

  [10] Treene = wooden, especially used of plates.

  [11] See _Remembrancia_, pp. 550–551.

  [12] See _Remembrancia_, p. 230.

  [13] These titles began with Henry VII., who seeing an
  inhabitant of Shoreditch shoot with extraordinary skill,
  dubbed him Duke of Shoreditch; this being copied by others, as
  Marquesses, Earls, etc., drew such ridicule upon the Company as
  finally brought contempt on the archery itself.

  [14] _The Anatomie of Abuses_, Turnbull’s edition 1836, p. 50.

  [15] Rewalt = to give up or surrender (_Century Dictionary_).


Transcriber’s Notes:

 - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
 - Text enclosed by ‘►◄’ is in blackletter font (►blackletter◄).
 - Blank pages have been removed.
 - A few obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.
 - Otherwise spelling and hyphenation variations remain unchanged.
 - Illustrations: internal caption-like text is replicated in the
   external caption. More extensive text is replicated in a
   {Transcription: ... } block.