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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._ |
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| “It is a mine in which the student, alike of topography |
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| IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY |
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| _With 104 Illustrations and a Reproduction of Rocque’s Map |
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| 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.