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+The Survey of London+
MEDIÆVAL
LONDON
HISTORICAL AND SOCIAL
_UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME_
PRICE =30/= NET EACH
LONDON
IN THE TIME OF THE TUDORS
_With 146 Illustrations and a Reproduction of Agas’ Map of London in
1560._
“For the student, as well as for those desultory readers who are drawn
by the rare fascination of London to peruse its pages, this book
will have a value and a charm which are unsurpassed by any of its
predecessors.”—_Pall Mall Gazette._
“A vivid and fascinating picture of London life in the sixteenth
century—a novelist’s picture, full of life and movement, yet with the
accurate detail of an antiquarian treatise.”—_Contemporary Review._
LONDON
IN THE TIME OF THE STUARTS
_With 116 Illustrations and a Reproduction of Ogilby’s Map of London in
1677._
“It is a mine in which the student, alike of topography and of manners
and customs, may dig and dig again with the certainty of finding
something new and interesting.”—_The Times._
“The pen of the ready writer here is fluent; the picture wants nothing
in completeness. The records of the city and the kingdom have been
ransacked for facts and documents, and they are marshalled with
consummate skill.”—_Pall Mall Gazette._
LONDON
IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
_With 104 Illustrations and a Reproduction of Rocque’s Map of London in
1741-5._
“The book is engrossing, and its manner delightful.”—_The Times._
“Of facts and figures such as these this valuable book will be found
full to overflowing, and it is calculated therefore to interest all
kinds of readers, from the student to the dilettante, from the romancer
in search of matter to the most voracious student of Tit-Bits.”—_The
Athenæum._
[Illustration: EDWARD IV. AND HIS COURTIERS.
From MS. in British Museum. Royal 15 E4.]
MEDIÆVAL
LONDON
VOL. I
HISTORICAL & SOCIAL
BY
SIR WALTER BESANT
[Illustration]
LONDON
ADAM & CHARLES BLACK
1906
CONTENTS
PART I
MEDIÆVAL SOVEREIGNS
CHAP. PAGE
1. HENRY II. 3
2. RICHARD I. 9
3. JOHN 13
4. HENRY III. 20
5. EDWARD I. 35
6. EDWARD II. 48
7. EDWARD III. 58
8. RICHARD II. 78
9. HENRY IV. 92
10. HENRY V. 103
11. HENRY VI. 111
12. EDWARD IV. 138
13. RICHARD III. 152
PART II
SOCIAL AND GENERAL
1. GENERAL VIEW 159
2. PORT AND TRADE OF LONDON 185
3. TRADE AND GENTILITY 216
4. THE STREETS 226
5. THE BUILDINGS 240
6. FURNITURE 255
7. WEALTH AND STATE OF NOBLES AND CITIZENS 259
8. MANNERS AND CUSTOMS 264
9. FOOD 294
10. SPORT AND RECREATION 307
11. LITERATURE AND SCIENCE IN LONDON—
§ I. THE LIBRARIES OF LONDON 327
§ II. LONDON AND LITERATURE 330
§ III. THE PHYSICIAN 336
12. FIRE, PLAGUE, AND FAMINE 341
13. CRIME AND PUNISHMENT 349
14. CHRISTIAN NAMES AND SURNAMES 372
APPENDICES 379
INDEX 405
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Edward IV. and his Courtiers _Frontispiece_
Henry II. 3
Coronation of the “Young King” 5
Becket disputing with the King 7
Great Seal of Henry II. 8
First Seal of Richard I. 10
Cross of Knight Templar 12
King John 13
Henry Fitzailwyn, Knt., First Lord Mayor of London 14
King John hunting 16
A Portion of the Great Charter 17
Coronation of Henry III. 21
Jews’ Passover 27
A Pope in Consistory 29
Edward I. 35
Queen Eleanor of Castile 36
Charing Cross 41
Parliament of Edward I. _Facing_ 44
Great Seal of Edward I. 46
Head of Edward II. 48
Shrine of King Edward II., Gloucester Cathedral 56
Edward III. 58
A Joust or Tournament of the Period 63
Sir Henry Picard entertaining the Kings of England, France,
Scotland, Denmark and Cyprus _Facing_ 70
John Wyclyf 76
Richard II. 78
King Richard II. and his Council go down the Thames in a Barge
to confer with the Rebels 83
Wat Tyler for his Insolence is killed by Walworth, and
King Richard puts himself at the Head of the Rebels 85
King Richard II. in Great Danger in the City of London 87
Henry of Lancaster brings King Richard back to London 90
How Richard II. resigned the Crown to the Duke of
Lancaster _Facing_ 90
Henry IV. 92
Funeral Procession of Richard II. _Facing_ 94
“The True Portraiture of Richard Whittington, Thrice Lord Mayor
of London” 98
The Porch of the Church of St. Alphage, London Wall, formerly
the Chapel of the Priory of Elsinge Spital 99
Henry V. 103
Ships at La Rochelle 106
Marriage of Henry V. and Katherine of France 108
Henry VI. as an Infant 111
The Duke of Bedford 115
Henry VI. 119
Henry VI. at the Shrine of St. Edmund 123
White Hart Tavern, Bishopsgate Street 130
London Stone 131
Henry VI. and his Courtiers 133
Edward IV. 138
Ships of the Period 141
The Bastard of Falconbridge attacks London Bridge 143
“The Hierarchy of the Sciences,” as conceived by Mediæval Thought 149
Richard III. 152
North-East View of Crosby Hall 153
Interior of the Council Room, Crosby Hall 153
Sketch Map of London in the Fifteenth Century 159
The White Tower 160
St. Katherine’s by the Tower 161
Chaucer 163
The Old Fountain in the Minories, built about 1480,
demolished 1793 175
North-West View of the Ancient Structure of Merchant-Taylors
Hall, and the Alms-Houses adjoining, in Threadneedle Street 179
A South-East View of London before the Destruction of
St. Paul’s Steeple by Fire, A.D. 1560 181
Temple Church, London 183
A Household Dining 203
The Steelyard, Thames Street 207
The Merchant 213
The Knight 219
Court of King’s Bench. Temp. Henry VI. 221
View of the Ruins of Part of the late Church of St. Leonard 229
View of the Crypt on the Site of the late College of
St. Martin Le Grand 229
Arch of Blackfriars Priory, revealed by the Demolition of
a Building in Ireland Yard, May 1900 238
Matthew Paris Dying 241
Embassy from the King of England to ask the Hand of the
Lady Isabella of France in Marriage 243
Hall of the Knights of St. John 247
“The Ladies’ Bower” 249
Whittington’s House in Swithin’s Passage, Moor Lane 250
Builders at Work 252
Retinue of the Earl of Warwick 260
House Servant and Porter, Early Fourteenth Century 261
Earl Rivers presenting his Book to Edward IV. 262
Knights preparing for a Passage of Arms 265
Queen Isabella and her Ladies out Riding 269
Making Tapestry 271
Honi Soit qui mal y Pense _Facing_ 274
Westminster Hall 276
Parting of St. Thomas and the Two Kings 277
Beggar Importuning Noble Lady 285
Banquet in London. Temp. Edward IV. _Facing_ 296
A Banquet 301
A Hunting Party 311
Types of Chaucer’s Characters 313
A Banquet 315
King and Jester 316
Types of Chaucer’s Characters 317
Tournament of the Earl of Warwick 321
Coronation of Henry IV. _Facing_ 322
English Knights Travelling 323
A Tournament in London 325
John Lydgate presenting his “Life of St. Edmund” to Henry VI. 328
Page from Pleshy Bible 331
Lydgate at Work 335
The Doctor of Physic 336
An Operation 337
Surgeon Operating on the Skull 337
An Alchemist’s Laboratory 338
The _Couvre-feu_ 341
Prisoner being Sentenced and taken to Execution 349
The Tun, Cornhill 355
The Scold’s Bridle in Walton-on-Thames Church 356
A Beggar 363
A Hand-to-Hand Fight 367
PART I
MEDIÆVAL SOVEREIGNS
CHAPTER I
HENRY II
[In considering the reigning Kings in order, I have found it necessary
to reserve for the chapters on the Mediæval Government of the City the
Charters successively granted to the Citizens, and their meaning.]
[Illustration: HENRY II. (1133-1189)
From his effigy at Fontevrault.]
The accession of the young King, then only three-and-twenty years of
age, brought to the City as well as to the Country, a welcome period
of rest and peace and prosperity. These precious gifts were secured
by the ceaseless watchfulness of the King, whose itinerary shows that
he was a most unwearied traveller, with a determined purpose and a
bulldog tenacity. From the outset he gave the whole nation, barons and
burgesses, to understand that he meant to be King. To begin with, he
ordered all aliens to depart. The land and the City were full of them;
they were known by their gait as well as their speech; the good people
of London looked about the streets, the day after the proclamation of
exile, for these unwelcome guests, whose violence they had endured so
long. They were gone “as though they had been phantoms,” Holinshed
writes. During his long reign, 1154-1189, Henry, who seldom stayed
in one place more than a few days, was in London or Westminster on
twenty-seven occasions, but in many of them for a day or two only.
These occasions were in March 1155; in April 1157; in March, July, and
October 1163; in April and September 1164; in September and October
1165; in April and June 1170; in July 1174; in May, August, and October
1175; in March and May 1176; in March and April 1177; in July 1178;
in August, November, and December 1186; in March 1185; in June 1186,
and in June 1188. And all these visits together amounted to less than
three months in thirty-five years. We may note that Henry held his
first Christmas at Bermondsey, not at Westminster. One asks in vain
what reason there was for holding the Court at a monastic house in
the middle of a marsh, much more difficult of access than that of
Westminster. It was here that it was decided that the Flemings, who had
flocked over during the last reign, should leave the country. Among
them was William of Ypres whom Stephen had made Earl of Kent. We hear
very little of the King’s personal relations with the citizens, by
whom he was respected as befits one of whom it is written that he was
“pitiful to the poor, liberal to all men, that he took of his subjects
but seldom times any great tributes, and, further, that he was careful
above all things to have the laws duly executed and justice uprightly
administered on all hands.”
In the year 1170 Henry II. had his eldest son Henry crowned King; but
the “Young King,” as he was called, never lived to occupy his father’s
place; after a career of rebellion he died of a fever in 1183.
Henry’s Charter gave the citizens privileges and liberties as large as
those granted by Henry I.—with one or two important exceptions. The
opening clause in the former Charter was as follows:—
“Know ye that I have granted to my citizens of London to hold
Middlesex to farm for three hundred pounds upon accompt to them
and their heirs: so that the said citizens shall place as sheriff
whomsoever they will of themselves: and as Justiciar whomsoever they
will of themselves, for keeping of the pleas of the crown, and of the
pleadings of the same, and none other shall be justice over the same
men of London.”
Except for a few years in the twelfth century the sheriffs were always
elected by the Crown. In the reign of Stephen the citizens are said
to have bought the right of electing their sheriffs. The omission of
so important a clause indicates the policy of the King. It was his
intention to bring the City under the direct supervision of the Crown.
He therefore retained the appointment of the sheriff in his own hands;
he calls him “my sheriff,” _meus_ Vicecomes; and it was so kept by
himself and his successor Richard the First. When John restored to
the City the election of the sheriff, the post had lost much of its
importance because the communal system of municipal government had been
introduced under a mayor. Thanks mainly to the strong hand of the King,
who enforced peace and order throughout the country, the prosperity
of London greatly increased during his reign. As yet the City was
governed by its aristocracy, the aldermen of the wards, which were at
first manors or private estates. They endeavoured to rule the City as
a baron ruled his people each in his own ward: there was, however, the
Folk Mote to be reckoned with. The people understood what was meant
by meeting and by open discussion: the right of combination was but a
corollary.
It is at this time that we first hear of the licences of guilds. We
may take it as a sign of prosperity when men of the same craft begin
to unite themselves into corporate bodies, and to form rules for the
common interest.
In the year 1180 it is recorded that a number of Guilds formed without
licence were fined:—
“The Gild whereof Gosceline was Alderman or President, thirty marks;
Gilda Aurifabrorum, or Goldsmiths, Radulphus Flael, Alderman,
forty-five marks; Gilda de Holiwell, Henry son of Godr. Alderman,
twenty shillings; Gilda Bocheiorum, William la Feite, Alderman,
one mark; Gilda de Ponte Thomas Cocus, Alderman, one mark; Gilda
Piperariorum, Edward ——, Alderman, sixteen marks; Gilda de Ponte,
Alwin Fink, Alderman, fifteen marks; Gilda Panariorum, John Maurus,
Alderman, one mark; Robert Rochefolet, his Gild, one mark; Richard
Thedr. Feltrarius, Alderman, two marks; Gilda de Sancto Lazaro,
Radulph de Barre, Alderman, twenty-five marks; Gilda de Ponte, Robert
de Bosio, Alderman, ten marks; Gilda Peregrinorum, Warner le Turner,
Alderman, forty shillings; Odo Vigil, Alderman, his Gild, one mark;
Hugo Leo, Alderman, his Gild, one mark; and Gilda de Ponte, Peter, son
of Alan, Alderman, fifteen marks.” (Maitland, vol. i. p. 53.)
[Illustration: CORONATION OF THE “YOUNG KING”
From Vie de St. Thomas (a French MS., 1230-1260).]
If there were unlicensed guilds, there must have been licensed guilds.
Unfortunately it is not known how many, or of what kind, these were.
Among them, however, was the important and powerful Guild of Weavers,
who were at that time to London what the “drapiers” were to Ypres in
Flanders. (See p. 201.)
It is sufficient to note the claim of the King to license every guild.
As for the fining of the unlicensed guild, since the business of a
guild is the regulation of trade, one would like to know how trade was
regulated when there was no guild. But enough of this matter for the
present.
In this reign occurs an early instance of heresy obstinate unto
death. The heretics came over from Germany. There were thirty of
them, men and women. They called themselves Publicans; one of them,
their leader, Gerard, had some learning: the rest were ignorant. They
derided matrimony, the Sacraments of Baptism, the Lord’s Supper, and
other articles. Being brought before the King, they were pressed
with Scripture, “but stuck manfully to their faith and refused to be
convinced.” It was therefore ordered that they should be burned with
a hot iron on the forehead, and the leader on the chin as well, that
they should be whipped, that they should be thrust out into the fields
and that none should give them food, or fire, or lodging; which was
done, the sufferers singing all the time, “Blessed are ye when men do
hate you”—and so they went out into the open country, where they all
died of cold and starvation. A pitiful story!
Here is a strange story told by Stow. It is a good deal amplified from
that given by Roger of Hoveden, but perhaps Stow obtained more material
from other authorities also:—
“A brother of the Earle Ferrers was in the night privily slayne at
London, which when the King understoode, he sware that he would bee
avenged on the Citizens: for it was then a common practice in the
Citie, and an hundred or more in a company of young and old, would
make nightly invasions upon the houses of the wealthie, to the intent
to robbe them, and if they found any man stirring in the Citie within
the night, they would presently murther him, in so much, that when
night was come, no man durst adventure to walke in the Streetes. When
this had continued long, it fortuned that a crewe of young and wealthy
Cittizens assembling together in the night, assaulted a stone house of
a certaine rich manne, and breaking through the wall, the good man of
that house having prepared himselfe with other in a corner, when he
perceived one of the Theeves named Andrew Bucquinte to leade the way,
with a burning brand in the one hand and a pot of coales in the other,
whiche he assayed to kindle with the brande, hee flew upon him, and
smote off his right hande, and then with a lowde voyce cryed Theeves,
at the hearing whereof the Theeves tooke their flight, all saving
hee that had lost his hande, whom the good man in the next morning
delivered to Richarde de Lucy the King’s Justice. This Theefe uppon
warrant of his life, appeached his confederates, of whome many were
taken, and many were fled, but among the rest that were apprehended, a
certaine Citizen of great countenance, credite, and wealth, surnamed
Iohn the olde,[1] when he could not acquite himselfe by the Watardome,
offered the King for his life five hundred Marks, but the King
commanded that he shoulde be hanged, which was done, and the Citie
became more quiet.” (Howe’s edition of Stow’s _Chronicles_, p. 153.)
[1] “The old,” _i.e._ “Senex.” It has been suggested that this is a
Latin rendering of the name Vyel.
Here, then, is a case in which the ordeal by water was thought to prove
a man’s guilt. In another place will be found described the method of
the ordeal by water. What happened was, of course, that the unfortunate
man’s arm was scalded. However, the City became quiet, which was some
gain.
In the year 1164 London Bridge was “new made of timber” by Peter of
Colechurch, who afterwards built it of stone.
In the year 1176 the stone bridge over the river was commenced. It was
not completed until 1209, after the death of the architect.
Henry I. had punished the moneyers for their base coin. Henry II. also
had to punish them for the same offence, but he chose a method perhaps
more effective. He fined them.
[Illustration: BECKET DISPUTING WITH THE KING
From MS. in British Museum—Claudius D2 (Cotton).]
The relations of Thomas à Becket with the King: their friendship and
their quarrels and the tragic end of the Archbishop, belong to the
history of the country. It does concern this book, however, that Thomas
was by birth a Londoner. His father, Gilbert, whose family came from
Caen, was a citizen of good position, chief magistrate, or portreeve,
in the reign of Stephen. Gilbert Becket was remembered in the City not
only by the history of his illustrious son, but by the fact that it was
he who built the chapel in the Pardon Churchyard, on the north side of
St. Paul’s, a place where many persons of honour were buried. It was
ever the mediæval custom to make one place more sacred than another,
so that if it was a blessed thing to be buried in a certain church,
it was more blessed to lie in front of the altar. The old story about
Gilbert’s wife being a Syrian is repeated by the historians, and is
very possibly true. Holinshed says she was a “Saracen by religion,”
which is certainly not true. Thomas Becket was born in wedlock; his
father was certainly not married to a Mohammedan, and the birthplace of
the future martyr was in a house on the site of the present Mercers’
Chapel, which itself stands on the site of the chapel of St. Thomas of
Acon.
Gilbert Becket died leaving behind him a considerable property in
houses and lands. Whether the archbishop took possession of this
property as his father’s son, or whether he gave it to his sister,
I do not know. Certain it is that after his death his sister Agnes,
then married to Thomas Fitz Theobald de Heiley, gave the whole of the
family estates to endow a Hospital dedicated to her brother Saint and
Martyr. Nothing should be kept back: all—all must be given: one sees
the intensity of affection, sorrow, pride, with which the new Saint was
regarded by his family. There could be no worshipper at the altar of
St. Thomas à Becket more devout than his own sister. (See also p. 278.)
[Illustration: GREAT SEAL OF HENRY II.]
CHAPTER II
RICHARD I
The coronation of King Richard on September 3, 1189, was disgraced
by a massacre of the Jews—the first example of anti-Jewish feeling.
Perhaps when they first came over these unfortunate people hoped that
no traditional hatred of the race existed in England. Experience, alas!
might have taught them, perhaps had taught them, that hatred grew up
round the footsteps of the Infidel as quickly as the thistles in the
field. When the Jew arrived in England what could he do? He could not
trade because the merchants had their guilds; and every guild had its
church, its saint, its priests, its holy days. He could not hold land
because every acre had its own lord, and could only be transferred by
an Act including a declaration of faith; he could not become a lawyer
or a physician because the avenues to these professions lay also
through the Church. Did a man wish to build a bridge, he must belong to
the Holy Brotherhood of Bridge-Builders—Pontifices. Was an architect
wanted, he was looked for in a Monastery. The scholars, the physicians,
the artists were men of the cloister. Even the minstrels, gleemen,
jugglers, tumblers, dancers, buffoons, and mimes, though the Church did
not bless their calling, would have scorned to suffer a Jew among them.
That was the position of the Jew. Every calling closed to him, every
door shut. There was, however, one way open, but a way of contempt, a
way accursed by the Church, a way held impossible to the Christian. He
might practise usury. The lending of money for profit was absolutely
forbidden by the Church. He who carried on this business was accounted
as excommunicated. If he died while carrying it on, his goods were
forfeited and fell to the Crown. In the matter of usury the Church had
always been firm and consistent. The Church, through one or two of the
Fathers, had even denounced trade. St. Augustine plainly said that in
selling goods no addition was to be made to the price for which they
were bought, a method which if carried out would destroy all trade
except barter. So that while the usurer was accursed by the Church,
to the King he became a large and very valuable asset. Every Jew who
became rich, by his death enriched the King. It was calculated (see
Joseph Jacobs, _The Jews of Angevin England_) that the Jews contributed
every year one-twelfth of the King’s revenues. The interest charged by
the usurer was in those days enormously high, forty per cent and even
more: so that it is easy to understand how rich a Jew might become and
how strong would be the temptation to squeeze him.
[Illustration: FIRST SEAL OF RICHARD I.]
As for the hatred of the people for the Jews, I think that it had
nothing whatever to do with their money-lending, for the simple reason
that they had no dealings with them. The common people never borrowed
money of the Jews, because they had no security to offer and no want of
money except for their daily bread. Those who borrowed of the Jews were
the Barons, who strengthened or repaired or rebuilt their castles; the
Bishop, who wanted to carry on his cathedral or to build a church; the
Abbot, who had works to execute upon the monastery estates, or a church
to beautify. The great Lords of the Church and the Realm were the
borrowers; and we do not find that they murdered the Jews. The popular
hatred was purely religious. The Jew was an unbeliever: when no one
was looking at him he spat upon the Cross; when he dared he kidnapped
children and crucified them; he it was who crucified our Lord, and
would do so again if he could. Why, the King was going off to the East
to kill infidels, and here were infidels at home. Why not begin by
killing them first? So the people reasoned, quite logically, on these
premisses.
To return to the coronation of Richard I. For fear of magic it was
ordered that no Jew and no woman should be allowed admission to the
Abbey Church during the function. Unfortunately, the Jews, hoping to
conciliate the new Sovereign with gifts, assembled outside the gates
and endeavoured to gain admission. It was always characteristic of the
Jews, especially in times of persecution, that they never in the least
understood the intensity of hatred with which they were regarded by
the world. One would think that on such an occasion common prudence
would have kept them at home. Not so, they endeavoured to force their
way into the Hall during the Coronation Banquet, but they were roughly
driven back, and the rumour ran that the King had ordered them to be
put to death; so they were cudgelled, stoned, struck with knives,
chased to their houses, which were then set on fire. From mid-day till
two of the clock on the following day the mob continued to murder, to
pillage, and to destroy.
It is noted that at Richard’s Coronation Banquet the Chief Magistrate
of London, not yet Mayor, officiated as Butler, an office claimed in
the following reigns from that precedent.
When Richard prepared for his Crusade he ordered the City to furnish a
certain quantity of armour, spears, knives, tents, etc., for the use of
his army, together with wine, silken habits, and other things for his
own use.
On the departure of Richard for Palestine his Chancellor, William
Longchamp, Bishop of Ely, took up his residence in the Tower. Power
turned his head; he acted like one whose position is safe, and
authority unbounded. He annoyed the citizens by constructing a moat
round the Tower, and by including within the external wall of the
Tower a piece of land here and another there, a mill which belonged
to St. Katherine’s Hospital, and a garden belonging to the City. He
offended the Bishops by seizing his brother Regent, Bishop Pudsey; and
the Barons by insulting Geoffrey, Archbishop of York, the son of Fair
Rosamond. Thereafter, when John, at the head of a large army, summoned
him to justify himself at Reading, Longchamp closed the gates of the
Tower.
John proceeded to ascertain the disposition of the leading citizens of
London. On the one hand Longchamp was the representative of the King,
appointed by the King, to whom obedience was due. On the other hand, he
had exasperated the citizens beyond endurance. They were ready—but with
exceptions—to transfer their allegiance to John—always as the King’s
representative. And here they saw their opportunity for making terms
with John to their own advantage. Why not ask for the Commune? They
did so. They made the granting of the Commune the condition of John’s
admission into the City, and therefore of Longchamp’s disgrace. Should
John refuse they would close their gates and support the Chancellor.
But John accepted.
He rode from Reading into London accompanied by the Archbishop of
Rouen and a great number of Bishops, Earls, and Barons. He was met by
the citizens. The gates were thrown open; and John’s army sat down to
besiege the Tower from the City and from the outside. This done, he
called a council in the Chapel House of St. Paul’s and there solemnly
conceded the Commune, upon which the citizens took oath of obedience to
him, subject to the rights of the King. The meaning of this concession
will be found more fully considered later on. At present it is
sufficient to observe that it was followed by the election of the first
Mayor of London: that other towns hastened to get the same recognition:
and that the Commune, though never formally withdrawn by Richard
himself, was never allowed by him.
Two Charters were granted to the City by Richard. The first, dated
April 23, 1194, was an exact copy of his father’s Charter, with the
same omission as to the election of Sheriff and Justiciar. It is
not addressed to the Mayor, because Richard never recognised that
office, but, as the Charter of Henry II. and that of Henry I., “To
the Archbishops, Bishops, Abbots, Earls, Barons, Justices, Sheriffs,
Ministers, and all others his faithful Friends and English people.”
The second Charter of July 14, 1197, authorised the removal of all
weirs in the River: “For it is manifest to us ... that great determent
and discommodity have grown to our City of London and also to the whole
realm by reason of the said wears.”
We now arrive at the first intimation of an articulate discontent
among the people. In all times those “who have not” regard those “who
have” with envy and disfavour; from time to time, generally when the
conditions of society seem to make partition possible, this hatred
shows itself openly. In the year 1195, there first arose among the
people a leader who became the voice of their discontent: he flourished
for a while upon their favour; in the end he met with the usual fate of
those who rely upon the gratitude and the support of the people. (See
vol. ii. pt. i. ch. vi.)
In the year 1198 the Sheriffs of London and Middlesex were ordered by
the King to provide standards of weight, length, and measures to be
sent into all the Counties.
Richard was received by the City, on his return from captivity, with
the greatest show of rejoicing; the houses being so decorated as to
move the astonishment of the “Lords of Almaine” who rode with the King.
“When they saw the great riches,” Holinshed writes, “which the
Londoners shewed in that triumphant receiuing of their souereigne lord
and king, they maruelled greatlie thereat, insomuch that one of them
said unto him: ‘Surelie, oh King, your people are wise and subtile,
which doo nothing doubt to shew the beautiful shine of their riches
now that they have receiued you home, whereas before they seemed to
bewaile their need and povertie, whilest you remained in captiuitie.
For verelie if the emperor had understood that the riches of the realme
had bin such, neither would he have beene persuaded that England could
have been made bare of wealth, neither yet should you so lightlie have
escaped his hands without the paiment of a more huge and intollerable
ransome.’” (Vol. iii. p. 142, 1586 edition.)
[Illustration: CROSS OF KNIGHT TEMPLAR]
The whole period of Richard’s residence in London, or, indeed, in
England, was limited to a few weeks after his coronation and a few
weeks after his return from captivity.
CHAPTER III
JOHN
John granted five Charters to the City.
By the first of these Charters, June 17, 1199, he confirmed the City in
the liberties which they had enjoyed under King Henry II.
[Illustration: KING JOHN (1167(?)-1216)
From the effigy in Worcester Cathedral.]
By the third Charter, July 5, 1199, he went farther: he gave back to
the citizens the rights they had obtained from Henry I., viz. the farm
of Middlesex for a payment of £300 sterling every year, and the right
of electing their own sheriffs. This seemed a great concession, but
was not in reality very great, for the existence of a Mayor somewhat
lessened the importance of the Sheriffs.
The second Charter confirmed previous laws as to the conservation of
the Thames and its Fisheries.
The fourth Charter, March 20, 1202, disfranchised the Weavers’ Guild.
The fifth Charter, May 9, 1215, granted the right of the City to
appoint a Mayor. Now there had been already a Mayor for many years,
but he had not been formally recognised by the King, and this Charter
recognised his existence. The right involved the establishment of the
Commune, that is to say, the association of all the burghers alike for
the purpose of protecting their common interests. It was no longer, for
instance, the Merchant Guild which regulated trade as a whole; nor an
association of Trade Guilds: nor was it an association of City Barons:
nor was it a tribunal of Justice: it was simply the association of the
burghers as a body.
We are now, however, approaching that period of the City History
in which was carried on the long struggle between the aristocratic
party and the crafts for power. In this place it is only necessary
to indicate the beginning of the strife. The parties were first
the Barons and Aldermen, owners of the City manors; secondly, the
merchants, some of whom belonged to the City aristocracy; and, lastly,
the craft. The Chief Magistrate of the Commune held a position of great
power and importance. It was necessary for the various parties to
endeavour to secure this post for a man of their own side.
[Illustration: HENRY FITZAILWYN, KNT., FIRST LORD MAYOR OF LONDON
From an old print.]
The disfranchisement of the weavers certainly marks a point of
importance in this conflict. It shows that the aristocratic party was
for the time victorious. The Weavers’ Guild, as we have seen, had
become very powerful. Their Guild united in itself all the tradesmen
belonging to the manufacture, or the use, of textile fabrics; such as
weavers, clothmakers, shearmen, fullers, cloth merchants, tailors,
drapers, linen armourers, hosiers, and others, forming a body powerful
by numbers, wealth, and organisation. To break up this body was
equivalent to destroying the power of the crafts for a long time.
The domestic incidents of the City during this reign are not of great
importance.
A very curious story occurs in the year 1209. The King’s Purveyor
bought in the City a certain quantity of corn. The two Sheriffs, Roger
Winchester and Edmund Hardell, refused to allow him to carry it off.
King John, who was never remarkable for meekness, flew into a royal
rage on this being reported to him, and ordered the Council of the
City to degrade and imprison the said Sheriffs—which was done. But the
Council sent a deputation to the King, then staying at Langley, to
intercede for the Sheriffs. Their conduct, it was explained, was forced
upon them. Had they not stopped the carrying off of the corn there
would have been an insurrection which might have proved dangerous. This
makes us wonder if the Commonalty resented the sending of corn out of
the City? If so, why? Or was there some other reason for preventing it?
After the King’s return from his Irish expedition the Parliament or
Council held at St Bride’s, Fleet Street, took place. John wanted
money. He insisted on taking it, not from the City but from the
Religious Houses. It was an act worthy of an Angevin. The fact, and the
way of achieving the fact, are thus narrated by Holinshed:—
“From hence he made hast to London, and at his comming thither, tooke
counsell how to recover the great charges and expenses that he had
beene at in this journey and by the advice of William Brewer, Robert
de Turnham, Reignold de Cornhill, and Richard de Marish, he caused all
the cheefe prelats of England to assemble before him at St. Bride’s
in London. So that thither came all the Abbats, Abbesses, Templars,
Hospitallers, keepers of farmes and possessions of the order of
Clugnie, and other such forreners as had lands within this realme
belonging to their houses. All which were constreined to paie such
a greevous tax, that the whole amounted to the summe of an hundred
thousand pounds. The moonks of the Cisteaux order, otherwise called
White Moonks, were constreined to paie 40 thousand pounds of silver
at this time, all their privileges to the contrarie notwithstanding.
Moreover, the abbats of that order might not get licence to go their
generall chapter that yeere, which yeerelie was used to be holden,
least their complaint should moove all the world against the king, for
his too too hard and severe handling of them.” (Holinshed, vol. iii.
p. 174, 1586 edition.)
This act of spoliation belonged to the period of the six years’
Interdict. The Interdict was pronounced on Passion Sunday, March 23,
1208, “which,” says Roger of Wendover, “since it was expressed to be by
authority of our Lord the Pope, was inviolably observed by all without
regard of persons or privileges. Therefore, all church services ceased
to be performed in England, with the exception only of confession; the
viaticum in cases of extremity; and the baptism of children: the bodies
of the dead, too, were carried out of cities and towns, and buried in
roads and ditches without prayers or the attendance of priests.”
[Illustration: KING JOHN HUNTING
From MS. in British Museum—Claudius D2 (Cotton).]
At the beginning of the Interdict, the solemn silence of the church
bells, the closing of the church gates, the cessation of all religious
rites at a time when nothing was done without religion taking her
part, struck terror into the minds of all folk. But as time went on
and the people became accustomed to live without religion, this terror
wore itself away. One understands very plainly that an Interdict too
long maintained and too rigorously carried out might result in the
destruction of religion itself. We must also remember, first, that
the Interdict was in many places only partially observed, and in
other places was not observed at all. Some of the Bishops remained
on the King’s side; some of the clergy were rewarded for disobeying
the Interdict. And in London and elsewhere there were relaxations.
Thus, marriages and churchings took place at church doors; children
were baptized in the church; offerings might be made at the altar:
in the Monastic Houses the canonical hours were observed, but there
was no singing. In a word, though the close connection of religious
observances with the daily life made the Interdict grievous, there
can be no doubt that its burden was felt less and less the longer it
was maintained. Moreover, the King afforded the City a proof that the
longer the Interdict lasted the richer and more powerful he would
become: a fact which would certainly weaken the terror of the Church,
while it might make the King’s subjects uneasy as to their liberties;
for John confiscated all the property of the Church that he could
lay his hands upon. “The King’s agents,” says Roger of Wendover,
“converted the property of the Bishops to the King’s use, giving them
only a scanty allowance of food and clothing out of their own property.
The coin of the clergy was everywhere locked up and distrained for the
benefit of the revenue: the concubines of the priests and clerks were
taken by the King’s servants and compelled to ransom themselves at
great expense. Religious men and other persons ordained, of any kind,
when found travelling on the road, were dragged from their horses,
robbed, and basely ill-treated by the satellites of the King, and no
one could do them justice. About that time the servants of a certain
sheriff on the confines of Wales came to the King, bringing in their
custody a robber with his hands tied behind him, who had robbed and
murdered a priest on the road: and on their asking the King what it
was his pleasure should be done to the robber in such a case, the King
immediately answered, ‘He hath slain an enemy of mine. Release him, and
let him go!’”
In the year 1210 the Town Ditch was dug for the greater strengthening
of the City.
[Illustration: A PORTION OF THE GREAT CHARTER
From the copy of original in British Museum. Rischgitz Collection.]
In 1213 the Standard Bearer of the City, Robert FitzWalter, one of the
malcontent Barons, fled to France rather than give a security of his
fidelity to John the King, whereupon John ordered his castle—Baynard’s
Castle—to be destroyed. This castle stood at the angle in the junction
of Thames and Fleet. The second Baynard’s Castle, erected by the Duke
of Gloucester, was some little distance to the east, also on the bank
of the river.
The leader of the Barons was this Robert FitzWalter, “Marshal of the
Army of God and of Holy Church.” He was Castellain of London, Chief
Banneret of the City, Baron of Dunmow, owner of Baynard’s Castle, and
of a soke which now forms the parish of St. Andrew by the Wardrobe.
As Castellain and Banneret it was his duty to direct the execution of
traitors by drowning in the Thames. At the Court of Husting his place
was on the right hand of the Mayor. In time of war the Castellain
proceeded to the western gate of St. Paul’s, attended by nineteen
knights mounted and armed, his banner borne before him. The Mayor and
Aldermen came forth to meet him, all in arms, the Mayor carrying the
City banner, which he placed in FitzWalter’s hands, at the same time
giving him a charger fully caparisoned valued at £20. A sum of £20 was
also given to FitzWalter for his expenses. The Mote bell was then
rung, and the whole party rode to the Priory of the Holy Trinity, there
to concert measures for the defence of the City.
The events which led to the concession of Magna Charta belong to the
history of the country. But the part played by London in this memorable
event must not be passed over.
The Barons, under FitzWalter, were besieging Northampton when letters
arrived from certain citizens of London offering their admission into
the City, no doubt on terms and conditions. The chance of getting the
chief city of the country into their power was too good to be refused.
A large company of soldiers took back the Barons’ answer. They were
admitted within the walls secretly; according to one Chronicle, at
night and by scaling the wall; according to another, by day, and
on Sunday morning, the people being at mass; according to another,
openly and by Aldgate. Once in the City, however, they seized and
held the gates and proclaimed rebellion against the King, murdering
his partisans. Then the Barons themselves entered London. From this
stronghold they threatened destruction to such of the Lords as had not
joined their confederacy. And for a time all government ceased; there
were no pleas heard in the Courts; the Sheriffs no longer attempted
to carry out their duties; no one paid tax dues, tolls, or customs.
The King, at one time reduced to a personal following of half a dozen,
found himself unable to make any resistance; and on the glorious June
15, 1215, Magna Charta was signed.
The Barons, who retained London by way of security, returned to the
City and there remained for twelve months, but in doubt and anxiety as
to what the King would do next. That he would loyally carry out his
promises no one expected. He was sending ambassadors to Rome seeking
the Pope’s aid; and he was living with a few attendants in the Isle of
Wight, or on the sea-coast near the Cinque Ports, currying favour with
the sailors.
The rest is national history. The Barons appear to have spent their
time in banqueting while the King was acting. Presently they found
that the King had become once more strong enough to meet them. Indeed,
he attempted to besiege London, but was compelled to abandon the
enterprise by the courageous bearing of the citizens, who threw open
their gates and sallied forth. The Barons were excommunicated; the
City was once more laid under an Interdict; these measures produced
no effect, but the Barons clearly perceived that their only hope lay
in setting up another king. They therefore invited Louis, son of the
French King, to come over; and then John died.
To return to the grant of Magna Charta. Its effects upon the liberties
of the people have been thus summarised by George Norton in his
_Historical Account of London_:—
“This charter has become the very alphabet of the language of freedom
and proverbialized in the mouths of Englishmen.... Merchants could now
transact their business without being exposed to arbitrary tolls: the
King’s Court for Common Pleas should no longer follow his person but
be stationary in one place: that circuits should be established and
held every year: and that the inferior local courts should be held
only at their regular and appointed times ... that the Sheriffs should
not be allowed in their districts to hold the pleas of the crown:
that no aids should be demanded of the people except by consent of
Parliament and in the three cases of the King’s captivity, the making
his son a knight, and the marriage of his daughter. And lastly, as
an object of national concern, it was expressly provided that London
and all the cities and boroughs of the kingdom should preserve their
ancient liberties, immunities and free customs.”
The words which Norton describes as the alphabet of freedom are the
following:—
“Nullus liber homo capiatur vel imprisonetur, aut disseisiatur de
libero tenemento suo, vel libertatibus, vel consuetudinibus suis, aut
utlagetur aut exulet aut aliquo modo destruatur: nec super eum ibimus,
nec super eum mittimus, nisi per legale judicium parium suorum vel per
legem terrae. Nulli vendemus: nulli negabimus, aut differemus rectum
vel Justitiam.”
CHAPTER IV
HENRY III
John was succeeded by his son Henry, then a boy of nine. The death of
their enemy brought back the Barons to their allegiance: forty of them
at once went over to the young King, the rest followed one by one.
Louis was left almost alone in London with his Frenchmen. The pride
and arrogance of the foreigners went far to disgust the English and
inclined them to return to their loyalty. After the defeat at Lincoln,
Louis found himself blockaded within the City walls, unable to get out,
and, unless relief came, likely to be starved into submission. This
is the second instance in history of the City being blockaded both by
land and sea: the first being that siege in which Cnut brought his
ships round the Bridge. The Thames was closed: the roads were closed:
no provisions could be brought into the City by river or by road. And
when a fleet, sent by the French King to the assistance of his son, was
defeated by Hubert de Burgh off Dover, whatever chance the Prince might
have had on his arrival was gone. Louis made terms. He stipulated for
an amnesty for the citizens of London: on the strength of that amnesty,
or as the price of it, he borrowed 5000 marks (or perhaps £1000) of
them and so returned to France.
The young King was received by the citizens with the usual
demonstrations of exuberant joy. Had they known what a terrible
half-century awaited them, they would have been less demonstrative.
A Parliament was held at London as soon as Louis had gone: the care of
the young King, whose mother had already married again, was committed
to the Bishop of Winchester.
The new buildings at Westminster were commenced by the Bishop of
Winchester as one of the first of Henry’s acts.
The story of the wrestling match which belongs to the year 1221 throws
some light upon the internal conditions of the City. In itself it had
no political significance except to show the readiness with which a
mob can be raised on small provocation and the mischief which may
follow. It was on St. James’s Day that sports were held in St. Giles’s
Fields near the Leper Hospital. The young men of London contended with
those of the “suburbs,” especially those of Westminster. Those who
have witnessed a great football match in the North of England will
understand the intense and passionate interest with which each “event”
was followed by the mass of onlookers. A gladiatorial combat was not
more warlike than the wrestling of these young men. The Londoners came
out best in this match, whereupon the Steward of Westminster, according
to the account, resolved upon revenge, and a very unsportsmanlike
revenge he took. For he invited the young men of London to a return
match. They accepted, suspecting nothing; they went unarmed to Tothill
Fields, ready to renew the bloodless contest: they were received, not
by wrestlers, but by armed men, who fell upon them and wounded them
grievously, and so drove them back to the City. One feels that this
story is incomplete, and on the face of it impossible. Holinshed’s
account of what happened in consequence is as follows:—
[Illustration: CORONATION OF HENRY III.
From MS. in British Museum—Vitellius A. XIII.]
“The citizens, sore offended to see their people so misused, rose
in tumult, and rang the common bell to gather the more companies
to them. Robert Serle, mayor of the Citie, would have pacified the
matter, persuading them to let the injurie passe till by orderlie
plaint they might get redresse, as law and justice should assigne. But
a certeine stout man of the Citie named Constantine FitzArnulfe, of
good authoritie amongst them, advised the multitude not to harken unto
peace, but to seeke revenge out of hand (wherein he shewed himselfe
so farre from true manhood, that he bewraied himselfe rather to have a
woman’s heart),—
... Quod vindicta
Nemo magis gaudet quam fœmina—
still prosecuting the strife with tooth and naile, and blowing the
coles of contention as it were with full bellowes, that the houses
belonging to the Abbat of Westminster, and manelie the house of his
steward might be overthrowne and beaten downe flat with the ground.
This lewd counsell was soone received and executed by the outragious
people, and Constantine himselfe being cheefe leader of them, cried
with a lowd voice, ‘Mount Joy! Mount Joy! God be our aid and our
sovereigne Lewes!’ This outragious part comming to the notice of
Hubert de Burgh, Lord Cheefe Justice, he gat togither a power of armed
men, and came to the Citie with the same, and taking inquisition of
the cheefe offenders, found Constantine as constant in affirming
the deed to be his, as he had before constanlie put it in practise,
whereupon he was apprehended and two other citizens with him. On the
next day in the morning Fouks de Brent was appointed to have them
to execution: and so by the Thames he quietly led them to the place
where they should suffer. Now when Constantine had the halter about
his necke, he offered fifteene thousand marks of silver to have beene
pardoned, but it would not be. There was hanged with him his nephew
also named Constantine, and one Geffrey, who made the proclamation
devised by the said Constantine.” (Holinshed, vol. iii. p. 204, 1586
edition.)
In this singular incident we perceive very plainly the existence of a
French party in the City. It was only two or three years since Prince
Louis had been called over: there was no love for the advisers or the
guardians of the young King: the memory of John still rankled: the
cries of “Mount Joy!” came from men of the French party: the party
was so strong that they believed themselves certain to be respected:
Constantine fully expected to be acquitted if he were tried by
his peers. And the party contained some—perhaps a majority—of the
wealthiest merchants, since one of them was able to offer 15,000
marks for his release, equal to £10,000, and about six times as much
according to our present value. The story also enables us to understand
both the exaggerated belief in their own powers entertained by the
citizens of London, and the resentment with which the King would
receive indication of this belief. It wanted fifty years of Henry
and thirty of Edward to make the citizens lay aside the belief that
king-making was one of the privileges exclusively granted to the City.
Meantime the resentment of the young King, who never forgot or forgave
this affair, was shown by the arrest of many citizens on the charge of
taking part in the business, and their punishment by the loss of hand,
foot, or eyesight. The King also deposed all the City officers. In this
way the seeds of animosity and distrust between the King and the City
were sown.
In the year 1227 Henry declared himself of age. This declaration was
followed by five Charters granted to the City of London.
In the first of these Charters, February 8, 1227, the King grants the
citizens the Sheriffwick of London and Middlesex; all their liberties
and free customs; the election of their Sheriffs, whom they are to
present to the King’s Justices; but not the election of their Mayor.
The second Charter, of the same date, gives them the power of electing
their Mayor “every year.” It is addressed to Archbishops, Bishops,
etc., and all faithful subjects; and it speaks of the King’s “Barons”
in his City. The third Charter orders the removal of all weirs in the
Thames and the Medway, recites the privileges granted by the Charter of
King John with “all other liberties which they had in the time of Henry
I.” (It is remarkable that Edward the Confessor appears no longer in
Charters and in laws.) The fifth Charter, dated August 18, 1227, refers
to the warren of Staines.
In 1229 came over to England Stephen, the Pope’s Nuncio, with orders to
levy a tenth upon all property, spiritual or temporal, for the Pope.
After much hesitation, and only to avoid excommunication, the Bishops
and Abbots consented; but the temporal Lords refused, in some cases
giving way when they were compelled to do so, and in others holding
out. The Earl of Chester, for instance, would not allow the tax to be
levied on any part of his lands or upon any priest, or Religious House.
The Nuncio made himself odious, partly by his grasping demands, even
taking the gold and silver chalices when there was no money; partly
by the tax itself, which gave over, as it seemed, the whole country
into the hands of the Pope; and partly because the Nuncio brought over
with him certain “Caursines,” or Caursini, agents for the Pope, who
collected the tax. These foreigners remained, and, as will be seen,
increased yearly in wealth and in the detestation of the people.
In this reign, also, the country people received other lessons as
to the duty of affection for the Pope by the arrival among them of
foreigners intruded into their benefices from Rome; these priests knew
no English and were unable to instruct the people. The troubles which
arose on account of these evils belong to the history of the country.
Despite his Charters the King’s exactions grew continually more
grievous. He levied a Poll Tax in the City and a Ward Tax, and after
a fire which destroyed a large part of the City, he exacted a sum of
£20,000. In 1231 the Jews built a synagogue “very curiously,” but the
citizens, by permission of the King, obtained possession of it, and
caused it, humorously, to be dedicated to the Virgin Mary. About the
same time the King built “a fair church adjoining thereto in the City
of London near the old temple,” _e.g._ the _Domus Conversorum_ or House
of Converts. Stow says that there were a great many converts who were
baptized and instructed in the laws of Christ and “did live laudably
under a learned man appointed to govern them.” The “fair church” was
the Rolls Chapel, wantonly destroyed in the year 1896.
The Chronicles of this date contain a great deal of information about
the weather. I have not thought it necessary to note the hard frosts,
the high tides, and the storms, which were remarked in London and
elsewhere. The weather seems to have been much the same at all times
in this country. Now and then a storm more than commonly severe is
experienced. For instance, on January 25, 1230, while the Bishop was
celebrating High Mass in St. Paul’s, there arose a terrible storm of
thunder and lightning, and so dreadful a “savour and stinke withal”
that a panic seized the people and they rushed out of the church
headlong, falling over each other, priests and choristers and all,
saving only the Bishop and one deacon. When the storm passed away,
they all went back again, and the Bishop continued the Mass. In 1233
there was a wet summer with floods in all parts of the country and a
bad harvest. We are not yet out of the age of prodigies and miracles
and monsters. Four suns appeared in the sky at the same time, together
with a great circle of crystalline colour; and in the South of England
two dragons were seen fighting in the air until one overcame the other,
when both plunged into the sea. In the North of England and also in
Ireland bodies of armed men sprang out of the ground and fought in
battle array and then sank into the ground again. To show that this was
no mere apparition the ground was trodden down where they had fought.
And once a strange star appeared with a flaming tail. What could these
prodigies portend?
In the year 1236 the City received the new Queen with every outward
sign of welcome, and, unfortunately for themselves, of wealth. What was
Eleanor of Provence, what was the young King, to think of the resources
of the city which could receive them with so brave a show? Thus writes
Stow concerning this Riding:—
“The cittie was adorned with silkes, and in the night with lampes,
cressets, and other lights without number, besides many pageants and
strange devices which were shewed. The citizens rode to meete the
king and queene, beeing clothed in long garmentes embrodered about
with golde and silke of divers colours, their horses finely trapped
in arraie to the number of three hundred and sixty, every man bearing
golden or silver cuppes in their hands, and the king’s trumpeters
before them sounding. The citizens of London did minister wine as
butlers.” (Howe’s edition of Stow’s _Chronicles_, p. 184.)
In the year 1236 water was first brought into the City by pipes from
the Tyburn, or from wells or springs in the district called Tyburn,
now Marylebone. These pipes were of lead and discharged the water
into cisterns which were afterwards castellated with stone. The most
important of them was that in Chepe: there were in all, when other
pipes had been laid down, nineteen conduits: and it became the custom,
once a year, for the Mayor and Aldermen to ride out in order to inspect
the Heads from which the conduits were supplied, after which they were
wont to hunt a hare before dinner and a fox after dinner in the fields
about Marylebone.
In the year 1238 a singular procession passed out of St. Paul’s
Cathedral along Fleet Street and the Strand as far as Durham House,
then the palace of the Legate. The procession consisted of a large
body of ecclesiastics, Doctors in Divinity and Law, followed (or
preceded) by a company of young men: they were ungirded, without gown,
bareheaded and barefooted. There were the Heads of Houses, the Master
and Students of the University of Oxford headed by Ado de Kilkenny,
Standard Bearer to the scholars: they were on their way to pray the
Legate’s pardon for a late lamentable outbreak in Oxford. It began with
an Irish undergraduate, who went into the Legate’s kitchen to beg for
food. The cook in reply took up a pot filled with hot broth and threw
it in his face. A Welsh student, also come on the same errand, was so
exasperated at the sight of the outrage that he killed the cook, there
and then. After which the students rose in a body and attacked the
house. The Legate fled for his life, taking refuge in a church steeple
whence he escaped under cover of the night. As soon as he was safe he
interdicted the University, and excommunicated all concerned in the
riot. But on their submission he granted his forgiveness and removed
the Interdict.
In 1250 the King sent for the principal citizens, and assured them
that he would no longer oppress them by taxation. This promise was
never meant to be kept. On a frivolous complaint of Richard, the King’s
brother, the City liberties were seized and a _custos_ appointed, who
remained in office until the City had paid a fine of six hundred marks.
Five hundred more were demanded for a new charter by which the incoming
Mayor might be presented to the Barons of the Exchequer every year
instead of the King. The old jealousy with which the citizens looked
upon the Tower was about this time revived and strengthened by the
erection of a wall round the Tower. Longchamp had made the ditch, but
his work remained incomplete. Henry resolved to carry it on and to make
an independent fortress surrounded by its own walls and having its own
communications with the river and the country outside. The citizens
looked upon the rise of this wall with suspicion and misgiving. Before
the work was completed the wall fell down. It was put up again, and
again it fell down, to the great joy of the people, who looked upon
it as a direct intervention of Heaven on their behalf. That this was
really the case was proved by a story which ran about the City that the
overthrow of the wall was done by St. Thomas à Becket himself.
“A vision appeared by night to a certain priest, a wise and holy man,
wherein an archprelate, dressed in pontifical robes, and carrying
a cross in his hand, came to the walls which the King had at that
time built near the Tower of London, and, after regarding them with
a scowling look, struck them strongly and violently with the cross,
saying, ‘Why do ye rebuild them?’ Whereupon the newly-erected walls
suddenly fell to the ground, as if thrown down by an earthquake.
The priest, frightened at this sight, said to a clerk who appeared
following the archprelate, ‘Who is this archbishop?’ to which the
clerk replied, ‘It is St. Thomas the martyr, a Londoner by birth,
who considered that these walls were built as an insult, and to the
prejudice of the Londoners, and has therefore irreparably destroyed
them.’ The priest then said, ‘What expense and builders’ labour have
they not cost.’ The clerk replied,‘If poor artificers, who seek after
and have need of pay, had obtained food for themselves by the work,
that would be endurable; but inasmuch as they have been built, not for
the defence of the kingdom, but only to oppress harmless citizens, if
St. Thomas had not destroyed them, St. Edmund the Confessor and his
successor would still more relentlessly have overthrown them from their
foundations.’ The priest, after having seen these things, awoke from
his sleep, rose from his bed, and in the dead silence of the night
told his vision to all who were in the house. Early in the morning a
report spread through the city of London that the walls built round the
Tower, on the construction of which the King had expended more than
twelve thousand marks, had fallen to pieces, to the wonder of many, who
proclaimed it a bad omen, because the year before, on the same night,
which was that of St. George’s day, and at the same hour of the night,
the said walls had fallen down, together with their bastions. The
citizens of London, although astonished at this event, were not sorry
for it; for these walls were to them as a thorn in their eyes, and they
had heard the taunts of the people who said that these walls had been
built as an insult to them, and that if any one of them should dare
to contend for the liberty of the City, he would be shut up in them,
and consigned to imprisonment; and in order that, if several were to
be imprisoned, they might be confined in several different prisons, a
great number of cells were constructed in them apart from one another,
that one person might not have communication with another.” (Matthew
Paris.)
The wealth of the Jews—or at least of one Jew—is shown by the exactions
of the King from Aaron of York. He made this man—one of “his” Jews—pay
him the sum of 14,000 marks for himself and 10,000 marks for the
Queen. He had before this made the unfortunate Aaron give him 3000
marks besides 200 marks of gold for the Queen, in all about 60,000
marks or £40,000, which in our money would be equal to about half a
million sterling. In 1252 the King seized the half of all the property
possessed by the Jews. But there was worse trouble for the Jews than
mere plunder. In 1225 the Jews of Norwich were thrown into prison on a
charge of circumcising a boy with the intention of crucifying him at
Easter. They were accused, convicted, and “punished”—hanged or burned.
In 1255 one hundred and forty-three Jews were brought to Westminster
charged with crucifying a child named Hugh de Lincoln. Eighteen of
them were hanged; the rest were kept in prison a long time. In 1239
they were accused of a murder “secretly committed,” and were glad to
escape with the loss of the third part of their property. The Pope’s
Nuncio, Stephen, was succeeded by one Martin, who carried on the same
exactions, regardless of murmurs and threats. The King was persuaded
to hold an inquiry into the number and value of the benefices held by
foreigners preferred by the Pope. The annual value was found to be
60,000 marks, or £40,000, an enormous sum at that time. The detention
of a messenger with letters from the Pope to his Nuncio, brought the
matter to a head. On an occasion when a large number of lords, knights,
and gentlemen met together at Dunstable, they united in sending a
message to Martin that he must quit the kingdom. He was then residing
in the Temple. The story shows the exasperation of the people and the
helplessness of the King, whose authority was thus usurped:—
[Illustration: JEWS’ PASSOVER
From a missal of the fifteenth century.]
“Maister Martine hearing this, got him to the court, and declaring
to the king what message he had received, required to understand
whether he was privie to the matter, or that his people tooke it
upon them so rashlie without his authoritie or no? To whome the king
answered, that he had not given them any authoritie so to command
him out of the realme; but indeed (saith he) my barons doo scarselie
forbeare to rise against me, bicause I have maintained and suffered
thy pilling and injurious polling within this my realme, and I have
had much adoo to staie them from running upon thee to pull thee in
peeces. Maister Martine hearing these words, with a fearfull voice
besought the king that he might for the love of God, and reverence of
the pope, have free passage out of the realme; to whome the king in
great displeasure answered, ‘The divill that brought thee in carrie
thee out, even to the pit of hell for me.’ Howbeit, at length, when
those that were about the king had pacified him, he appointed one of
the marshals of his house, called Robert North or Nores, to conduct
him to the sea side, and so he did, but not without great feare,
sithens he was afraid of everie bush, least men should have risen upon
him and murthered him. Whereupon when he came to the pope, he made a
greevious complaint both against the king and others.” (Holinshed,
vol. iii. p. 237, 1586 edition.)
After a futile remonstrance with the Pope, the Barons and Lords
resolved that they would pay no more tribute to Rome. The Pope
therefore ordered the Bishops to set their seals to the Charter by
which John had consented to the tribute. This they did, whereupon the
King, who was always strong in words, swore that so long as he should
live no tribute should be paid to Rome. The position of the country
towards the Pope was considered at a Parliament called in London in
Lent 1246. As regards London, it is sufficient to note the quarrel
and to remember that the attitude of the country, three hundred years
before the Reformation, was thus hostile to the claims of the Pope.
In the year 1241 took place the election of Boniface, Bishop Elect
of Basle, and uncle of the Queen, as Archbishop of Canterbury. This
election was the greatest and the worst of the many intrusions of
foreigners into English offices. Matthew Paris tells the story of the
election:—
“The monks of Canterbury, then, finding that the Pope and the King
indulged them by turns, and mutually assented to each other’s requests,
after invoking the grace of the Holy Spirit and the King’s favour,
elected as the pastor of their souls, Boniface, bishop elect of Basle,
and an uncle of the Lady Eleanor, the illustrious Queen of England, yet
entirely unknown to the aforesaid monks, as regarded his knowledge,
morals, or age, and (as was stated) totally incompetent, compared with
the archbishops his predecessors, for such a dignified station. They
however elected him, on this consideration, namely, that, if they had
elected any one else, the King, who obtained the favour of the Pope in
everything, would invent some grounds of objections, and reject and
annul the election. And in order that the Pope might not reject the
bishop elect as incompetent, or rather that he might appear competent
and fit for such a high dignity, the King, who endeavoured by all the
means in his power to promote the cause and raise the fame of the said
Boniface, now elected or about to be elected, ordered a paper to be
drawn up, in which the person of the said Boniface was praised beyond
measure, and in evidence of the truth of it appended his royal seal to
the said writing. He then sent it to the bishops and abbats, enjoining
or imperiously begging them to set their seals also to it, and to bear
evidence to his assertion; several, however, unwilling to violate
the integrity of their conscience, and fearing to break the Lord’s
commandment, ‘Thou shalt not bear false witness,’ firmly refused to
obey him. Several of the clergy of the higher ranks, however, namely
some bishops and abbats, were alarmed and enervated by the King’s
threats, and, laying aside their godly fear, and showing reverence to
man more than to God, affixed their seals to it, as a guarantee and
testimony of their belief, and willingly accepted of this Boniface as
their superior. Although he was of noble blood and a most particular
friend of the princes of both kingdoms, and himself well-made in
person, and sufficiently qualified, yet the monks of Canterbury were
extremely sorry that they had been overcome by the King’s entreaties
and agreed to his request in this matter; and some of them, after
reflecting within themselves, knowing the misery in store for them,
seceded from their church, and, in order to perform continued penance,
betook themselves to the Carthusian order.”
[Illustration: A POPE IN CONSISTORY
From MS. in British Museum. Add. 23,923.]
Nine years later, in 1250, there occurred an ecclesiastical scandal
of a very unusual kind caused and provoked by the arrogance of this
prelate. It is related by Stow as follows:—
“Boniface, Archbishop of Canterburie, in his visitation came to the
priory of Saint Bartholomew in Smithfielde, where, being received with
procession in the most solemne wise, he said he passed not upon the
honor but came to visit them, unto whome the Chanons answered, that
they having a learned Byshoppe ought not in contempt of him to bee
visited by any other, which answere so much misliked the Archbyshopp,
that he forthwith fell on the Subprior, and smote him on the face
with his fist, saying, ‘Indeede! Indeede, doeth it become you English
Traytors so to answere me?’ Thus raging with othes not to be recited,
he rent in pieces the rich coape of the Subprior, trode it under
feete, and thrust him against a pillar of the chancell, that he hadde
almost killed him but the Chanons seeing that their Subprior was
almost dead they ranne and plucked off the Archbyshoppe with such
a violence that they overthrew him backwardes, whereby they might
see that he was armed and prepared to fight. The Archbyshoppe’s men
seeing their maister downe (being all strangers, and their maister’s
countrymen borne in Provance), fell upon the Chanons, beate them, tare
them, and trode them under their feet: at length the Chanons getting
away as well as they could, ranne bloddy and myrie, rent and torne,
to the Bishoppe of London to complaine, who bade them go to the king
at Westminster, and tell him thereof: whereupon four of them went
thither, the rest were not able, they were so sore hurt: but when they
came at Westminster, the king woulde neyther heare nor see them, so
they returned without redresse. In the meane season the whole citie
was in an uproare, and ready to have rang the common bell, and to have
hewed the Archbyshoppe into small pieces, but he was secretly gotte
away to Lambeth.” (Howe’s edition of Stow’s _Chronicles_, p. 188.)
At a Parliament held in the year 1246, a memorandum was drawn up of
the injuries sustained by England at the hands of the Pope, especially
in the presentation of English benefices to foreigners. The document
is of the highest interest, but belongs to the national history. The
reading and adoption of this memorandum was followed by the despatch of
letters from (1) “all the English”; (2) the Abbots of England; (3) the
general community of England; (4) the King—all these to the Pope—and
lastly from the King to the Cardinals. The third of these letters,
which was sent out with the seal of the City of London, was the most
straightforward. It may be quoted here:—
“To the most holy Father in Christ and well-beloved Lord, Innocent,
by the grace of God supreme Pontiff of the Universe Church, his
devoted sons, Richard, earl of Cornwall; Simon de Montfort, earl of
Leicester; De Bohun, earl of Hereford and Essex; R. le Bigod, earl of
Norfolk; R., earl of Gloucester and Hereford; R., earl of Winchester;
W., earl of Albemarle; H., earl of Oxford; and others throughout the
whole of England, barons and nobles, as well as the nobles of the
ports dwelling near the sea-coast, as also the clergy and people in
general, Health and due reverence in all respects to such a potent
pontiff. The Mother Church is bound so to cherish her children,
and to assemble them under her wings, that they may not degenerate
in their duty to their mother, but may make stronger efforts on
her behalf, if necessary, and taking up the sword and buckler, may
oppose themselves to every peril in her defence, from whose milk they
derive consolation, whilst they hang on the breasts of her motherly
affection: for the mother ought to remember the children of her womb,
lest, by acting otherwise, and withdrawing the nourishment of her
milk, she may appear to become a stepmother. The father, also, who
withdraws his affection from his sons, is no father, but ought, with
good reason, to be called a stepfather, as he considers his natural
children as illegitimate ones, or stepsons. On this account, reverend
father, ‘chariot of Israel and its charioteer,’ we confidently resort
to the asylum of your affection, crying aloud after you, humbly
and devoutly praying of you, in the hopes of divine retribution,
compassionately to listen to the voices of those crying after you, and
to apply a salutary remedy to the burdens, injuries, and oppressions
repeatedly imposed and practised on the kingdom of England, and our
lord the king: otherwise, scandal will necessarily arise, urged on as
we are ourselves, as well as the king, by the clamours of the people;
since it will be necessary for us, unless the king and kingdom are
soon released from the oppressions practised on him and it, to oppose
ourselves as a wall for the house of the Lord, and for the liberty of
the kingdom. This, indeed, we have, out of respect for the Apostolic
See, hitherto delayed doing; but we shall not be able to dissemble
after the return of our messengers who are sent on this matter to
the Apostolic See, or to refrain from giving succour, as far as lies
in our power, to the clergy, as well as the people of the kingdom of
England, who will on no account endure such proceedings: and your
holiness may rest assured that, unless the aforesaid matters are
speedily reformed by you, there will be reasonable grounds to fear
that such peril will impend over the Roman church, as well as our lord
the king, that it will not be easy to apply a remedy to the same:
which God forbid.”
The reign of Henry III. should have taught the citizens the great
lesson that a charter is only a recognition and a promise: a
recognition of ancient rights and liberties achieved, and a promise to
respect these rights and liberties. When a king ascended the throne,
who had no regard for oaths or charters, and who was strong enough to
enforce his will, what became of the rights and liberties? The City had
to learn that more than a king’s word was necessary. “Make a law,” is
the cry of the weak and ignorant. “Let us defend what laws we have,”
is the cry of the strong. During the greater part of this long reign
London was weak and ignorant. The weakness of London—the alternate fits
of rage and apathy—as, one after the other, her liberties were taken
from her, is to be explained by the fact that the City was divided
within itself. London united and of one mind could have dictated terms
to king or barons. The secret of the successful and long-continued
oppression of the City is the internal dissension of the people.
I must reserve for another chapter the history of the King’s
encroachments and the internal dissensions. They form part of the
growth—though apparently a check or hindrance—of the civil liberties.
The City, at the same time, laboured together with the country under
heavy grievances. An arbitrary and extravagant king; the immigration of
foreigners by swarms; the exactions of the Italian usurers, licensed
by the Pope; the continuous and almost hopeless struggle against the
domination and pretensions of the Pope; the loss of foreign and home
trade, owing to internal dissensions and unchecked piracies,—all these
things together make the long reign of Henry III. the most disastrous
in the whole history of London. The struggle with the Pope belongs
to the history of the country rather than to that of London. The
unpopularity of the King was extended to the Queen as well. Perhaps
Eleanor was regarded as the chief cause of the invasion of the country
by these foreigners—ecclesiastics and usurers. The hatred of the people
was shown on one unfortunate day when the Queen proposed to go by boat
from the Tower to Windsor. As she drew near the Bridge, according to
Holinshed, “a sorte of lewd naughtepacks, got them to the Bridge,
making a noise at her, and crying ‘Drown the witch!’ threw down stones,
cudgels, dirt, and other things at her, so that she escaped in great
danger of her person, fled to Lambeth, and, through fear to be further
pursued, landed there, and so stayed till the Mayor of London, with
much ado appeasing the peril of the people, repaired to the Queen and
brought her back again in safety to the Tower.”
London suffered worse things than the country because her people were
throughout this long reign the unceasing object of the King’s rapacity,
tyranny, and hatred. He deprived the City of the Mayor and Sheriffs,
substituting a Custos and Bailiffs; he fined them relentlessly and on
the smallest pretext; he laid upon them more heavy taxes than they had
ever before known; he made them pay for their charters; he tried to
divert the trade of the City to Westminster; yet from time to time he
seems to have understood the necessity for conciliation: he met the
citizens at a folk-mote; he took leave of them before going abroad.
On another occasion he cut down the expenses of his household, even
suppressing some of the tapers on his altar, so that he was not always
an extravagant monarch. Again, on another occasion we find him spending
the day and dining with the Dominican Friars, so that he was not always
a luxurious monarch. And there is the memorable scene in Westminster
Hall, which may be given in the words of Matthew of Westminster:—
“The day fortnight after Easter, a great parliament being assembled,
nearly all the prelates being met together, requested that the King,
observing their charters and liberties as he had often promised, would
also permit the Holy Church to enjoy its liberties, especially in
the matter of the elections of prelates of the cathedral churches,
and of the churches of convents: all which the King protested that
he would observe inviolably, and thus obtained the consent which he
desired from them and from the other nobles, to the subsidy which he
required for his pilgrimage. Accordingly, there was granted to the King
one-tenth part of all the ecclesiastical revenues for three years,
and from the knights a scutage for that year, at the rate of three
marks for each shield. And the King promised in all good faith that
he would inviolably observe all those things which he had on other
occasions repeatedly sworn to, and which had been originally granted
by his father John. And that they might feel more sure of his promise,
he ordered sentence to that effect to be publicly pronounced in his
presence, which was also done in the following manner:—
Accordingly on the third of May, in the larger royal palace at
Westminster, in the presence of, and under the authority of the Lord
Henry, by the grace of God, King of England, etc., etc. And after
this was done, the charter of his father John was produced before the
assembly, in which the said King John had granted the same things of
his own absolute will, out of which charter they caused the aforesaid
liberties to be recited. But while the King was listening to the
aforesaid sentence, he held his hand to his breast with a serene
and willing countenance; and at last, when all the tapers had been
thrown down and were smoking, each person said, ‘So may all those who
transgress this sentence be extinguished and stink in hell’; and the
King, with all those who were standing by, answered, ‘Amen, Amen.’”
When civil war broke out the City took the side of the Barons. London
provided a contingent of 12,000 men. At Lewes the Londoners were routed
by Prince Edward in return for the insults with which they had assailed
the Queen, his mother; at Evesham their party was defeated and the
King was once more restored to power. He deposed the Mayor; he put a
Custos in his place; he refused to receive the citizens when they went
to London to sue for mercy; he imprisoned Thomas FitzThomas for life;
he confiscated the property of sixty of the wealthier citizens; he
fined the City 20,000 marks, and because it was from the Bridge that
the Queen had been insulted by the citizens, he gave the Bridge and its
tolls to her. She kept it for a few years, neglecting to keep it in
repair, and then gave it back to the City.
In the year 1257 Henry issued a new coinage of golden pennies, each
weighing two sterlings, _i.e._ two silver pennies, and each ordered
to represent twenty sterlings. He asked the advice of the City upon
the matter. There was a general feeling that the golden penny was not
wanted, and that it would cause a depreciation in the value of gold.
The King ordered the coinage to be continued, but that no one should be
compelled to take it.
We now come upon a confused episode in the history. It is that of the
occupation of the City by the Earl of Gloucester (Gilbert de Clare).
As Arnold FitzThedmar tells the story, the Earl was coming to London
by command of the Legate, who held the Tower. The Legate further told
the citizens that Gloucester was a friend of the King, and that they
must admit him and his men into the City. However, the citizens begged
the Earl not to take up his quarters within their walls by reason
of the great multitude with him. Accordingly, he rode through with
his host, and lay at Southwark. But next day the Earl came back, to
hold a conference with the Legate, and there remained, he and all his
people. The roving bands of the “disherisoned” who had been wasting
Norfolk from their headquarters at Ely appeared before the City. The
Earl took the keys of the gates, let in these dangerous marauders,
and assumed the command over the whole City. Many of the better sort
went away from this, and the Earl ordered their chattels to be seized
for his own use or allowed his soldiers to plunder them. His men were
joined by certain “low people” calling themselves the “Commons of the
City”—they were obviously the craftsmen—who seized the opportunity to
assert themselves: they arrested many of the principal citizens and
spoiled and wasted their goods; deposed the mayor and sheriffs; they
chose three of themselves to be custos and bailiffs; they imprisoned
some of the aldermen; they invited back all those who had been expelled
the City for breach of the peace against King Henry; and they released
those who were prisoners in Newgate, Ludgate, Cripplegate, and any
other prison. Some of the disorderly company of the “disherisoned”
marched to Westminster, and there did as much mischief as they could to
the palace, breaking the glass windows, drinking the wine, and defacing
the buildings. The Pope’s Legate, meantime, was in the Tower. With him
were many of the King’s friends—those of the aristocratic party—and a
great number of Jews; we may also believe that the Caursini and the
foreigners were taking shelter in the Tower. The Jews, who had with
them their wives and children together with all their portable wealth,
were assigned the defence of one ward of the Tower, which, it is
pleasant to read, they did defend valiantly. In the end peace was made,
and the City escaped without a fine save 1000 marks for the destruction
of the house of the King’s brother Richard at Isleworth.
In 1267 the King gave the City of London to his son Edward in order
that he might rule over it, and to enjoy its revenues. Edward appointed
a Custos, one Hugh FitzOthon, who was also Constable of the Tower.
In 1271 the Prince restored the Mayor and Sheriffs and obtained a
charter of confirmation for the City. This done he assumed the Cross
and went upon his crusade.
The amount of revenue obtained by the King from the City of London
in the year 1268 is shown by the following return furnished by the
Bailiffs Walter Hervey and William de Durham.
£ _s._ _d._
By the amount of Tunnages (king’s weigh-house) and
petty strandages 97 13 11½
By the amount of Customs of Foreign Merchandise
together with the Issues of divers Passages 75 6 10
By the Metage of Corn and Customs at Billingsgate 5 18 7
By the Customs of Fish, etc., brought to London Bridge
Street 7 0 2
By the Issue of the Field and Bars of Smithfield 4 7 6
By Tolls raised at the City Gates and Duties in the
River Thames westward of the Bridge 8 13 2
By Stallages, Duties arising from the Markets of
Westcheap, Grass Cheap, and Wool Church, Haw
and Annual Socage of the Butchers of London 42 0 5
By the Produce of Queenshithe 17 9 2
By Chattels of Foreigners forfeited for trading
in the City 10 11 0
By Places and Perquisites within the City 86 5 9
By the Produce of the Waidarii and Ambiani or Corbye
and Neele French Merchants of these towns 9 6 8
-------——————-
Total £364 13 2½
==============
In the year 1267 there was a serious riot, showing that the craftsmen
had not yet learned the lesson of fraternity towards each other. It
rose from a quarrel between the goldsmiths and the tailors. Other
trades joined in: for instance the tawyers who prepared fine leather:
and the parmenters who dealt in broad-cloth. For several days the
streets were thronged with companies of these conflicting trades,
fighting and murdering. In the end the riot was suppressed and the
ringleaders were executed.
CHAPTER V
EDWARD I
[Illustration: EDWARD I. (1239-1307)]
The new reign began with the adjustment of an outstanding quarrel.
Flanders was the principal cloth-making country, and, as such, she was
always the chief customer of England for wool, in the trade of which
so many of the London merchants were interested. In the year 1270,
when the Countess of Flanders thought fit to lay hands upon the wool
and other merchandise belonging to English merchants in her dominions,
Henry issued a writ to the Mayor and Sheriffs forbidding the export
of wool anywhere out of the kingdom. This measure failed to produce
the desired effect. The King therefore, in 1270, seized all the goods
of the Flemings, Hainaulters, and other subjects of the Countess; he
ordered the London merchants to draw up an estimate of their wares, to
be replaced out of the Flemings’ goods, and banished every Fleming out
of the country. The property seized more than covered the amount of
the loss. When the old King died during the absence of Edward in the
Holy Land, the Chancellor, Walter de Merton, continued to banish the
Flemings.
On his journey home, Edward received an embassy from the Countess, and
sent for four discreet citizens to confer with him. The four chosen
were Henry Waleys, afterwards Mayor of Bordeaux, as well as of London;
Gregory de Rokesley, goldsmith and wool merchant; John Horn, evidently
of Flemish descent; and Luke de Battencourt, Sheriff. Peace was
concluded and signed in the same year—1274.
On the return of Edward from the Holy Land, he was received by the City
with every appearance of joy, all the houses being hung with silk and
tapestry, while the conduits ran with wine.
He was crowned at Westminster Abbey with his Queen Eleanor on August
19, 1274. The ceremony took place in the Abbey Church very much as we
see it, though without later additions of chapel and western towers.
The Abbey had been rebuilt by Henry III. though as yet it was not
finished. The Queen-mother, Eleanor of Provence, was present. The day
after the coronation Alexander III. of Scotland did homage. In honour
of the occasion five hundred horses were let loose among the crowd for
any to take who could. One would like a picture of the scramble which
followed, and an enumeration of the dead and wounded when all the
horses had been ridden away.
[Illustration: QUEEN ELEANOR OF CASTILE
From the effigy in Westminster Abbey.]
In the City the contest between the two parties was continued. The old
party tried to obtain the election of their man Philip le Taillour, but
were beaten by the common sort who elected Walter Hervey. An appeal was
made to the King: a committee of ten, five on each side, were to agree
upon a Mayor. The names of the members of this committee on both sides
show pretty plainly the real nature of the quarrel. For one side are
Walter Merton, William le Polter, John Adrian, Henry de Coventry, and
Thomas Basyng, all members of old City families; on the other side are
Robert Grapefige, Alan the Capmaker, and Bartholomew the Grocer. It was
while the dispute was still unsettled that the old King had died, and
Walter Merton told the people at Paul’s Cross that they should have
their Mayor. The new Mayor and Sheriffs set themselves to regulate the
trade of the City, especially the sale of bread, meal, and provisions
generally, and to pass laws for the punishment of those who gave short
weight or adulterated food. The laws being passed, the City Fathers, as
was customary in those times, sat down with the consciousness of having
done their duty. The appointment of an executive force to insist upon
the observance of the laws was an expedient not yet invented by the wit
of man.
It is, however, another illustration of the upheaval and discontent
of the people that in the third year of this reign, the juries of the
wards made a presentment to the King complaining that although the City
ought not to be tallaged except by order of the King, yet it had been
on several occasions tallaged by the Mayor; and that although all
the citizens were equal as regards their freedom and privileges, yet
some of the Aldermen and others had obtained charters from Henry III.
exempting them from tallage: in so much that all the tallage fell upon
the middle sort and the poor, to their great loss and oppression.
The King further considered the complaints against the Jews for usury.
They were forbidden to practise their trade; and it was ordained, as
a mark of infamy, that every usurer should wear upon his breast a
badge, the “breadth of a paveline,” in sign of his trade. This law was
levelled at the Italian merchants, the men of the Pope, who traded in
money and refused to obey any laws against the practice except those
of the Pope. As for the unfortunate Jews, being deprived of the only
trade open to them—if they were really deprived, but I think the edict
was never enforced,—they took to clipping and diminishing the King’s
coin—if they really did do so, but one doubts—and were all seized
and imprisoned in one day: out of those so arrested in the City, two
hundred and eighty were executed. Alas! poor Jews!
It is an illustration of the melancholy condition to which London was
reduced by the late disastrous reign that in the year 1281 it was
reported to the King that London Bridge had become so ruinous that it
might any moment fall down. This was in consequence of the Queen of
Henry III. having spent the revenues and rents upon herself, and left
the fabric to fall into ruin, in so much that in 1282 a great frost
happening, five of the piers were carried away by the ice. Edward
ordered a toll of one penny for every horseman and one halfpenny for
every saleable pack of goods that crossed the bridge, the toll to
continue for three years. Grants of land, made to the City by Edward
I. and following kings for the repair of the Bridge, prove that the
citizens had recovered their ancient rights as to its custody.
Nor were the City Gates in much better case than the Bridge. Thus, the
Hanseatic merchants enjoyed the privilege of trading in the City on the
condition of keeping one of the Gates—Bishopsgate—in repair, and of
defending it in case of siege. The condition was imposed by Henry III.,
but the merchants neglected the Gate so that it had by this time fallen
into ruin. On being called upon to fulfil their contract they at first
refused, but when the case was decided against them by the Court of
Exchequer, they performed their duty with zeal, and a hundred and fifty
years later, when the gate again fell into decay, they pulled it down
and rebuilt it.
The brutality of the time is illustrated by the reception given to
the head of Llewelyn, Prince of Wales. He had fled to the castle of
Builth after losing his last battle. Here he was betrayed into the
hands of Roger le Strange, who cut off his head with his sword and
sent it to the King. Edward ordered that it should be carried to
London. Consequently the head of the dead warrior was borne on a lance,
crowned with a silver chaplet, through the streets with a cavalcade
of men-at-arms, with trumpets and drums, and with the shouting of the
people. Then it was stuck up on the Tower, crowned with a mock diadem.
One remembers also the unspeakable indignities perpetrated on the dead
body of Simon de Montfort.
All the histories of London notice the remarkable case of Lawrence
Ducket mentioned by Fabyan. It occurred in the year 1284, and presents
many points of mystery. Lawrence Ducket was a goldsmith who, in some
kind of affray, wounded one Ralph Crepin in Westchepe. Immediately
after the deed, it would seem, probably running away from the crowd,
he took sanctuary in Bow Church tower. But certain friends of Crepin
getting into the tower at night hanged Lawrence from one of the windows
in such a manner that it seemed as if he had committed suicide. And
a Coroner’s jury holding inquest on the body brought in a verdict of
self-murder, whereupon the body was thrown into a cart, carried out
of the City, and buried in a ditch. Then, however, a boy came forward
and deposed that he was sleeping in the tower with Lawrence Ducket,
and that he witnessed from a corner where he hid himself—the murder by
certain persons whom he named. Arrests were made and more information
obtained, in consequence of which it was discovered that a woman had
contrived and designed this murder and sacrilege. She was burned alive.
Sixteen were hanged; and many others, persons of consideration, were
fined. A notable murder.
One remembers the quarrel between the Goldsmiths and the Tailors
fifteen years before this. Was it a renewal of that, or some other old
feud? That would seem the only way of accounting for so determined and
so daring a revenge.
Two things are remarkable in the year 1285. First, the great conduit of
Cheapside was set up in this year. It was a cistern of lead built round
with stone and castellated. The water had been brought from Paddington
fifty years before, but this was the first attempt to form a reservoir;
the leaden pipes originally used were changed for wooden pipes formed
by hollowing out trunks of trees. There were three sections: one of 510
rods from Paddington to “James’ Head”; one of 102 rods from “James’
Head on the hill” to the Mewsgate; from the Mewsgate to the Cross in
Cheape, 484 rods. For a long time this conduit formed the sole supply
of water brought in from without for the whole City excepting the foul
waters of the Fleet and the Walbrook. There were, however, many private
wells and springs in the City, and of water without the City there was
a plentiful supply.
The second noticeable act of the year was the order of the Archbishop
of Canterbury that all the Jews’ synagogues in the City should be
destroyed. The hatred of the Jews was, it will be seen, rapidly
becoming irresistible.
In 1285, also, thirteen years after the death of King Henry, there
comes to light what is either an act of revenge or a curious survival
of the spirit of discontent which placed the Londoners on the side of
the barons. A citizen named Thomas Piwilesdon (? By Willesden) who
in the time of the barons had been a great “doer, to stir the people
against King Henry,” was arrested on the charge of compassing new
disturbances. No doubt this was in connection with the efforts of the
craftsmen. The Custos arrested him and banished him, with fifty others,
out of the City for life.
What followed was, apparently, a concession to the merchants. The
foreign traders had formerly been compelled to lodge in the houses of
citizens and to sell their goods by procuration, through the London
merchants. Afterwards being allowed to take houses and use them for
storage and for sale, they were now charged with abusing the privilege
in various ways; they caused their goods to be weighed by their private
beams instead of the King’s beam; and they used false weights. Twenty
of them were arrested and taken to the Tower; their false weights were
publicly destroyed in West Chepe, and they themselves, after a long
imprisonment, were fined a thousand pounds.
The City had sunk into a dreadful condition by the bad government of
the mayors and sheriffs, the internal dissensions, and the general
anarchy. The streets were nightly infested with companies of robbers
and murderers; the crafts, especially those whose work overlapped each
other, were perpetually quarrelling; there was dissension everywhere;
the old order was breaking up. For a time it was well that London
should cease to elect her Mayor. Moreover, there were examples of this
despotic remedy under Henry III. The Sheriff of the year 1285 was
Gregory Rockesley, who was a goldsmith. With his friend Henry Waleys
he had taken turns in holding the chief office of the City. Waleys was
a vintner. Both were wealthy men and of good repute with the King. In
1275 Henry Waleys stepped from the Mayoralty of London into that of
Bordeaux. In 1274 Rockesley held no office in London, because he was
sent to Flanders on an embassy. The following table will illustrate the
position in the City of these two merchants.
1264. Gregory Rockesley is one of the Sheriffs.
1271. Sheriffs, Gregory Rockesley and Henry Waleys.
1274. Mayor, Henry Waleys.
1275. Mayor, Gregory Rockesley.
1276. Mayor, Gregory Rockesley.
1277. Mayor, Gregory Rockesley.
1278. Mayor, Gregory Rockesley.
1279. Mayor, Gregory Rockesley.
1280. Mayor, Gregory Rockesley.
1281. Mayor, Gregory Rockesley.
1282. Mayor, Henry Waleys.
1283. Mayor, Henry Waleys.
1284. Mayor, Henry Waleys.
1285. Mayor, Gregory Rockesley.
1286-1297. No Mayor.
1298. Mayor, Henry Waleys.
So that in thirteen years no other citizen was put forward as Mayor
except these two, and when the City after twelve years returned to its
old constitution, one of these two—probably the survivor—became once
more Mayor.
In the year 1285 Edward took over the City into his own hands in the
manner following. On the feast of St. Peter and St. Paul (June 29)
the Lord Treasurer summoned the Mayor to the Tower there to give an
account of his keeping of the peace. The summons was an infraction
upon the liberties of the City (see also vol. ii. part i. ch. iv.).
Gregory Rockesley, however, without formally refusing to obey, marched
in procession with the City Fathers as far as Barking Church. Here he
cast aside his gown, his collar, his rings, and dismissed his officers,
and entered the Tower as a private person there appearing before the
Justices. They asked him what he meant. He replied that as mayor he
was not bound to appear before any Court beyond the liberties of the
City. I think that we may assume that this question and this answer
had been arranged beforehand, because it was most unlikely that the
Treasurer was ignorant of the City’s Charters. Rockesley was allowed to
retire. Next day, he and the principal citizens were arrested and put
in prison. The King, “finding the City without a Mayor,” took it into
his own hands and appointed as Custos Sir Ralph Sandwich. After this
everybody was released and the Custos remained in charge.
The whole story shows previous arrangement. The only two men who seemed
possible for the post of Mayor were growing old; the office was more
onerous than they could well bear; the City grew daily more lawless;
deeds of violence were more rife; the quarrels of the craftsmen more
frequent; street fights more common; the arm of the law weaker. But
the King was strong, there was no doubt on that point. Long before his
accession Edward had proved to the citizens that he was strong and just
and inflexible. Let the King take over the City and keep possession
till the restoration of good order. Not by trampling on the Charters.
Let it be done by a legal quibble.
So it was all arranged, and Gregory Rockesley, being released from
prison, retired from office to the quiet management of his own affairs.
As we hear no more about him we may assume that he was probably dead
when the citizens returned to the election of their Mayor. And the King
finding the City without a mayor appointed a Custos in his own name.
One of the citizens, Aswy, Alderman of Chepe, was kept in prison a
little longer, for some other reason, which we are not able to learn.
The new Custos, it is evident, was a strong man. He not only knew how
to make laws but he enforced them. He would allow no foreigner to
wear any weapon, nor to be abroad after curfew; and since the late
disturbances took place chiefly by night, all people wandering about
the streets after dark were liable to be arrested and clapped into the
Tun of Cornhill. No vintners or victuallers were to keep their shops
open after curfew: and, since many lewd persons learned the art of
fencing as a help to their disorderly conduct, all schools of fencing
were closed: the Aldermen were enjoined to make a visitation of their
wards and to arrest rogues and bring them to punishment. As a practical
example, the Custos arrested fifty-eight persons and banished them from
the City. Then the hearts of honest men were gladdened. They had got a
just and strong King who had appointed a just and strong Custos. The
laws would be obeyed. As for the City liberties, they would doubtless
be restored when the City had purged herself and was ready to live a
cleanly and reputable life. Another important step was taken. It was
ordered, with the view of securing for the King an army of defence
in case of need, every man was to have arms and armour according to
his rank, and that the armour should be inspected twice a year; and,
further, for the better security of the City that every gate should be
guarded by six men and should be closed from sunset to sunrise.
[Illustration:
_Grove and Boulton._
CHARING CROSS
Designed by Pietro Cavalini.]
This strong king, by another act of justice accomplished at the same
time, filled the souls of wrongdoers in high places with terror.
This was the punishment of the King’s Justiciars for the delays and
corruptions with which they had conducted their Courts. Twelve Judges
were found guilty and condemned in various penalties and fines. The
Chief Justice was stripped of all his property and banished. Another
was fined 32,000 marks, an enormous sum of money; the rest were fined
from one thousand to seven thousand marks.
Respect for the law, after a long period of lawlessness, was the
lesson which the nation had to learn. In London it was sternly taught
the citizens by the King’s Custos, Sir Ralph Sandwich. And first by
the example of the foreign merchants: for finding them justly charged
with short measure and false weight, he imprisoned them all in the
Tower, and fined them a thousand pounds. This punishment struck a
salutary terror into the heart of many an honest trader: quart pots,
for instance, were everywhere restored to their original dimensions
by the removal of the pitch which had raised up the bottom. Another
useful lesson was given when a rescue was attempted. The Sheriff was
haling a criminal to prison when three misguided citizens assaulted
him and forcibly released the man. They were promptly arrested, tried,
and sentenced to have their right hands struck off. It is a punishment
which one would not willingly see revived; at the same time, it may
be acknowledged that the spectacle of these unhappy stumps must have
reminded the citizens every day of the respect due to a magistrate.
It was an object lesson which continued till the death of the last
survivor of the three. And another lesson was taught them when some of
the principal citizens broke open the Tun prison and set the prisoners
free. They were themselves imprisoned and the City was fined 20,000
marks.
In the year 1295 there happened a thing happily most unusual in
the annals of the country—the deliberate venal treachery of a
knight esteemed honourable and loyal as he was already proved to be
courageous. There is an account of the case in Holinshed; Stow and
others briefly notice it; the fullest account, however, is that of
Bartholomew Cotton, quoted in the Appendix to the _Chronicles of Old
London_ (FitzThedmar):—
“In the same year (A.D. 1295) a certain knight, Thomas Turbevile by
name, who had been taken by the French at the siege of Rheims, and
detained in prison by the said King of France, came over to England
with traitorous designs, and said that he had escaped from prison of
the said King of France: whereupon, he was kindly received by our Lord
the King of England, and much honoured. But after he had remained some
little time in the Court of our Lord the King of England aforesaid, he
attempted to send a certain letter to the King of France: whereupon,
his messenger carried the same to our Lord the King of England and
gave him a full and open account of the treachery of his employer. The
traitor, suspecting this, took to flight, but was taken shortly after.
The tenor of his treasonable letter was as follows:—
The whole of the letter need not be quoted here. It proved the treason
of the man up to the hilt.
“‘And know that the King is sending into Gascoigne twenty ships laden
with wheat and oats, and with other provisions and a large amount of
money: and Sir Edmund the King’s brother will go thither, and the
Earle of Nichole, Sir Hugh le Despenser, the Earl of Warwyk, and many
other good folks: and this you may tell to the high Lord. And know
that we think we have enough to do against those of Scotland! and if
those of Scotland rise against the King of England, the Welsh will
rise also. And this I have well contrived, and Morgan has covenanted
with me to that effect. Wherefore I counsel you forthwith to send
great persons into Scotland: for if you can enter therein, you will
have gained it for ever.’”
The said Thomas was seized on the Saturday next before the Feast of
Saint Michael, and taken to the Tower of London: and on the Saturday
next after the Feast of Saint Faith (October 6) he had his trial, and
departed in manner underwritten:—He came from the Tower, mounted on a
poor hack, in a coat of ray, and shod with white shoes, his head being
covered with a hood, and his feet tied beneath the horse’s belly, and
his hands tied before him: and around him were riding six torturers
attired in the form of the devil, one of whom held his rein, and the
hangman his halter, for the horse which bore him had them both upon
it: and in such a manner was he led from the Tower through London to
Westminster, and was condemned on the dais in the Great Hall there: and
Sir Roger Brabazun pronounced judgment on him, that he should be drawn
and hanged, and that he should hang so long as anything should be left
whole of him: and he was drawn on a fresh ox-hide from Westminster to
the Conduit of London, and then back to the gallows: and there is he
hung by a chain of iron, and will hang so long as anything of him may
remain.
In the year 1290 Edward lost his Queen, Eleanor of Castile, and to
show his grief for her death he erected crosses of a beautiful design
at all the stopping-places of the funeral procession on its way from
Nottingham to London. It may be remembered that one of the suggested
derivations of Charing Cross is “Chère reine,” in allusion to the cross
there. The present cross in the station courtyard is on the model of
the ancient one, though not exactly like it.
In the same year those remaining of the Jews were banished, their lands
and houses were seized; though they were suffered to carry with them
their portable property. The hardships endured by these unfortunate
people are spoken of elsewhere (see p. 9). The following simple story
of brutal murder is related by Holinshed (vol. ii.):—
“A sort of the richest of them, being shipped with their treasure
in a mightie tall ship which they had hired, when the same was under
saile, and got downe the Thames towards the mouth of the river beyond
Quinborowe, the maister mariner bethought him of a wile, and caused
his men to cast anchor, and so rode at the same, till the ship by
ebbing of the stream remained on the drie sands. The maister herewith
entised the Jewes to walke out with him on land for recreation. And at
length, when he understood the tide to be coming in, he got him backe
to the ship, whither he was drawne up by a cord. The Jewes made not so
much hast as he did, bicause they were not aware of the danger. But
when they perceived how the matter stood, they cried to him for helpe;
howbeit he told them, that they ought to crie rather unto Moses,
by whose conduct their fathers had passed through the Red Sea, and
therefore, if they would call to him for helpe, he was able inough to
helpe them out of those raging floods, which now came in upon them;
they cried indeed, but no succour appeared, and so they were swallowed
up in the water. The maister returned with the ship, and told the King
how he had used the matter, and had both thanks and reward, as some
have written. But other affirme (and more trulie as should seem) that
diverse of those mariners, which dealt so wickedlie against the Jewes,
were hanged for their wicked practise, and so received a just reward
of their fraudulent and mischeevous dealing.”
In the end the banishment of the Jews brought no alleviation to those
who wanted to borrow money. The Lombards and the Caursini proved as
flinty-hearted in the matter of interest as any Jew had been.
Edward granted but one Charter to the City. This was in 1298, when the
Mayor was restored to the City. It is simply a Charter of Confirmation.
The citizens are to have all their old liberties together with the
right of electing their Mayor and Sheriffs. The election of Henry
Waleys as the first of the new series showed that the preponderance
of power was still with the aristocratic class. Edward’s financial
embarrassments and his wars belong to the history of the country. As
regards the City, Edward borrowed money of the Italian Companies (see
p. 212); he created knights by the hundred; he searched the monasteries
and churches for treasure; he seized the lay fees of the clergy; he got
£2000 out of the City in recognition of his knighting the Mayor; and he
persuaded, or ordered, the Londoners to furnish him with three ships,
forty men mounted and equipped, and fifty arbalisters for the defence
of the southern coast.
After the King’s victorious campaign in Scotland, he was welcomed on
his return with a procession and pageant most magnificent. The houses
were hung high with scarlet cloth; the trades and crafts appeared, each
offering some device or “subtlety” showing its kind of work. Thus, the
fishmongers marched with four gilt sturgeons and four silver salmon on
horses; they also equipped forty-six knights in full armour, riding
horses “made like luces of the sea”; the knights were followed by St.
Magnus—his church is at the bottom of Fish Street—with a thousand
horsemen.
[Illustration: PARLIAMENT OF EDWARD I.
From Pinkerton, _Iconographia Scotica_.]
On August 10, 1305, Westminster witnessed a trial surpassed by few
in interest and importance—that of the patriot Sir William Wallace,
who had been captured in his Highland retreat by treachery, and had
been brought to London. Wallace was at this time not more than thirty
years of age: in the full vigour of manhood and of genius. He had
filled his short life with fights and forays. As a hero of romance,
the ideal patriot, all kinds of legends and stories have accumulated
round his name. All we know for certain about him is that he was at the
head of an army gathered from that part of the Lowlands lying north
of the Tay; that without the help of the Scottish earls or barons he
defeated the English at Stirling and drove them out of the country;
and though he was defeated at Falkirk he awakened in the hearts of the
Scots the spirit of independence: he made them a nation. On his
arrival in London the illustrious prisoner was taken to the house of
a private citizen, William De Leyre by name, who lived in the parish
of Allhallows the Great. It does not appear why he was not taken to
the Tower. Perhaps it was desired to attach as little importance as
possible in the case. “Great numbers,” however, according to Stow,
“both men and women came out to wonder upon him.... On the morrow,
being the eve of St. Bartholomew, he was brought on horseback to
Westminster, John Segrave and Geoffrey, knights, the Mayor, Sheriffs
and Aldermen of London and many others, both on horseback and on foot,
accompanying him: and in the Great Hall at Westminster he being placed
on the south bench, crowned with lawrel—for that he had said in time
past that he ought to bear a crown in that hall as it was commonly
reported—and being appeached as a traitor by Sir Peter Mallorie the
King’s Justice, he answered that he was never traitor to the King of
England: but for other things whereof he was accused”—what were those
other things?—“he confessed them.” What he pleaded was, in fact, that
he could be no traitor because he owed no allegiance to the King of
England. It is clear from this statement that the name and fame of
William Wallace were spread over the whole of England; and that the
man who had driven out the English and ravaged Northumberland and
defied the conqueror, was sent up to London as a captive fore-doomed to
death. The prentices ran and shouted; the women looked out of the upper
chambers—pity that a man so gallant, who rode as if to his wedding
instead of his death, should have to die the death of a traitor. As
for the manner of his death, it followed the usual ceremony: first he
was dragged at the heels of horses to the place of execution, the Elms
at Smithfield; he was placed on a hurdle, otherwise he would have been
dead long before reaching the place, for from Westminster Hall to the
Elms, Smithfield, is two miles at least. There were multitudes waiting
at Smithfield to see this gallant Scot done to death. First they hanged
him on a high gallows, but only for the ignominy of it, not to kill
him; then they took the rope from his neck, laid him down, took out his
bowels and performed other mutilations which one hopes were done when
the life was out of him. Then they cut up his body and distributed it
in parts: some to rejoice the hearts of the English on London Bridge,
at Newcastle, at Berwick: and of the Scots at Perth and Aberdeen. The
business was as barbarous as possible, but it was the fashion of the
time. Two hundred and fifty years later in the reign of Queen Elizabeth
the same punishment in all its details was inflicted upon Babington
and his friends. Three hundred and eighty years later almost the same
punishment was inflicted upon Monmouth’s adherents. The execution
itself, apart from the cruel manner of it, which belonged to the time,
is generally condemned as a blot upon the life and reign of the great
Edward. Perhaps, however, the history of the case may show some reason
for an act quite contrary in spirit to the King’s usual treatment of
the indomitable Scots. After the overtures of Balliol, the Scottish
lords swore homage to Edward. Wallace alone—a simple knight—refused
to recognise the surrender, called the people to arms, against the
wish of nobles and priests, drove the English out of Scotland and led
a foray into Northumberland. At the battle of Falkirk the Scots were
defeated and cut to pieces, Wallace himself escaping with difficulty.
That was in 1298. But the struggle was continued. For six years Edward
was occupied with other troubles. When, in 1304, he again invaded the
country, the Scottish lords laid down their arms and the conquest of
Scotland was accomplished without further bloodshed. A general amnesty
was extended to all. But the name of Wallace was excluded—“let him
submit to the grace of the King, if so it seemeth him good.” Wallace
would not submit: he retreated to the Highlands, where he was captured.
[Illustration: GREAT SEAL OF EDWARD I.]
In every age civilised war is governed by certain rules: one must play
the game according to these rules. One of them is that when the King
has accepted peace, there shall be peace. Wallace might be supposed
to have broken that rule. His country had submitted formally: he
alone stood out. Patriot he was, no doubt. So was Andreas Hofer; but
irregular warfare everywhere is treated as treason or rebellion. And
therefore the King, who might well have shown a magnanimous clemency,
was justified in his own eyes in putting Sir William Wallace to a
shameful end.
The opinion of the English people upon Wallace may be understood
from that of Matthew of Westminster, who pours a shower of abuse
upon his head. William Wallace is “an outcast from pity, a robber, a
sacrilegious man, an incendiary, a homicide, a man more cruel than
the cruelty of Herod, more insane than the fury of Nero.” He made men
and women in the North of England dance naked before him; he murdered
infants; burnt boys in schools “in great numbers,” and at last ran away
and deserted his people.
It remains to be added that Wallace’s head was the first of many which
decorated London Bridge.
The remarkable robbery of the King’s Treasury by Podelicote took place
in 1305.
In the same year the King offered an excellent example of obedience to
the laws by sending his son, Prince Edward, to prison for riotously
breaking into the park of Walter Langton, Bishop of Chester, and at the
same time banished from the realm the Prince’s companion and unworthy
friend, Piers Gaveston.
On July 7, 1307, King Edward died while on his way to carry out his vow
of vengeance against Bruce.
CHAPTER VI
EDWARD II
The least worthy, or the most worthless, of all the English sovereigns,
was the first who sat upon the sacred stone of Scone, brought into
England by Edward I. The coronation was held on February 25, 1308, the
Queen being crowned with the King. The Mayor and Aldermen took part in
the function and in the banquet afterwards.
[Illustration: HEAD OF EDWARD II.
From effigy in Gloucester Cathedral.]
The history of this miserable reign chiefly consists of the troubles
caused by the King’s favourites. London, however, played a large part
in the events arising out of their quarrels. In the autumn of 1308,
the first year of the King’s reign, the Barons succeeded in getting
Piers Gaveston banished. In 1309, however, he was back again and was
made Earl of Cornwall, “to the great detriment of the realm” (_French
Chronicle_). The indignation of the Barons waxed daily greater against
the favourite, who lavished the wealth that was heaped upon him in
ostentation and display. We must remember the strong feeling of
the time that rank should be marked by such display as we now call
ostentation. An Earl, for instance, was expected to carry about with
him a great retinue; to wear costly armour; to give his followers a
rich livery; and to keep up a noble house. But Piers Gaveston, whatever
rank the King had conferred upon him, was a foreigner and an upstart,
the son of a simple Gascon knight. That he was enabled to exhibit the
display which befitted an ancient House made the nobles recall his
origin. Besides, the man had a ready wit and a keen tongue. He gave
every one of the Barons a nickname. Lancaster was the “old hog” or the
“churl”; Gloucester the “cuckold’s bird” or the “Bastard”; Lincoln was
“Bursten bellie”; Pembroke was “Joseph the Jew”; Warwick was the “Black
hound of Arderne”; and so with the others.
There had been trouble about this favourite in the late King’s reign.
In 1305, as we have seen, Edward put his son in prison for riotously
breaking into a Bishop’s park, “and because the Prince had done
this deed by the procurement of a lewd and wanton person, one Piers
Gaveston, an Esquire of Gascoine; the King banished him the nation,
lest the Prince, who delighted much in his company, might, by his evil
and wanton counsel, fall to evill and naughtie rule.” (Holinshed.)
The first thing the new King did, then, was to recall his favourite
and to create him Earl of Cornwall. He also married him to his niece,
the daughter of his sister Joan, and of Gilbert de Clare, Earl of
Gloucester.
The favourite repaid these favours as might be expected. He furnished
the Court, Holinshed says, with “companies of jesters, ruffians,
flattering parasites, musicians, and other vile and naughtie ribalds,
that the King might spend both daies and nights in jesting, plaieng,
blanketing, and other filthie and dishonourable exercises.”
How the Barons remonstrated with the King; how they took Gaveston
prisoner under promise to deliver him to the King; how they broke that
promise and beheaded him, is to be read in every history of England.
It is noted by Sharpe as one reason for the hatred which the citizens
of London as well as the Barons felt towards this and the following
favourites, that they were always soliciting small favours from the
citizens for their own friends. “At one time,” he writes, “it was Piers
Gaveston who wanted a post for his valet: at another time Hugh le
Despenser asked for the Small Beam for a friend.”
It was before this, however, that the Barons appointed “ordainers” to
draw up ordinances for the better government of the City. When their
work was completed it was laid before a Parliament which assembled at
the Black Friars, and here it received sanction. The ordinances were
afterwards proclaimed at St. Paul’s Cross.
In March 1311 the City gave the King the sum of 1000 marks. The
Mayor, Richard de Refham, who belonged to the popular party, caused
an examination of all the charters and documents concerning the City
liberties. He then read them publicly, and asked the people if they
were resolved upon the maintenance of their liberties. He also took
steps to clear the streets of the night-walkers and “roreres” who for
a long time had committed murders and robberies unchecked. The entries
in Riley’s _Memorials of London_ under the year 1311 show the activity
of this Mayor’s reign. He would tolerate no abusive language in his
Court; he would not allow trades which were a nuisance to be carried
on in the street, such as the skinning of dead horses, the dressing
of fur, etc.; he arrested and committed to prison a great number of
rogues, criminals, and strumpets. He strengthened and guarded the
Gates, keeping a night watch of sixteen men for every one. Perhaps his
activity made enemies, for he was deposed before his term of office
had expired. The _French Chronicle_, however, says nothing about any
deposition.
In November 1312 a son was born to the King, named Edward of Windsor.
The following account shows how such an event was received and
celebrated by the loyal citizens:—
The Queen herself sent a letter to the citizens.
“Isabel by the grace of God, Queen of England, Lady of Ireland, and
Duchess of Aquitaine, to our well-beloved, the Mayor, and Aldermen,
and the Commonalty of London, greeting. Forasmuch as we believe that
you would willingly hear good tidings of us, we do make known to you
that our Lord in His grace has delivered us of a son, on the 13th day
of November with safety to ourselves, and to the child. May our Lord
preserve you. Given at Wyndesore, on the day above-named.”
“Of this letter the bearer was John de Phalaise, tailor to the Queen:
and he came on the Tuesday next after the feast of St. Martin (November
11) in the 6th year of the reign of King Edward, son of King Edward.
But as the news had been brought by Robert Oliver on the Monday before,
the Mayor and Aldermen, and great part of the Commonalty, assembled in
the Guildhall at time of Vespers and carolled, and showed great joy
thereat; and so passed through the City, with glare of torches, and
with trumpets and other ministrelsies.
And on the Tuesday next, early in the morning, cry was made throughout
all the City to the effect that there was to be no work, labour, or
business in shop, on that day; but that every one was to apparel
himself in the most becoming manner that he could, and come to the
Guildhall at the hour for Prime: ready to go with the Mayor, together
with other good folks, to St. Paul’s there to make praise and offering,
to the honour of God, who had shown them such favour on earth, and to
show respect for this child that had been born. And after this, they
were to return all together to the Guildhall, to do whatever might be
enjoined.
On the Wednesday following, the Mayor, by assent of the Aldermen, and
of others of the Commonalty, gave to the said John de Phalaise, bearer
of the letter aforesaid, ten pounds sterling and a cup of silver, four
marks in weight. And on the morrow, this same John de Phalaise sent
back the present aforesaid because it seemed to him too little.
On the Monday following, the Mayor was richly costumed, and the
Aldermen arrayed in like suits of robes; and the drapers, mercers,
and vintners were in costume; and they rode on horseback thence
to Westminster, and there made offering, and then returned to the
Guildhall, which was excellently well tapestried and dressed out, and
there they dined. And after dinner they went in carols throughout the
City all the rest of the day, and great part of the night. And on the
same day the Conduit in Chepe ran with nothing but wine for all those
who chose to drink there. And at the Cross just by the Church of St.
Michael in West Chepe, there was a pavilion extended in the middle of
the street, in which was set a tun of wine, for all passers-by to drink
of, who might wish for any.”
In 1313 an important case was argued before the Royal Council sitting
at the White Friars. The King had issued orders for a tallage which the
City refused to pay on various grounds, but especially on the ground
that their charters granted them exemption from tallage. By lending
the King £1000 they obtained a postponement of the question till the
meeting of Parliament. When Parliament did meet, eighteen months later,
they obtained a further postponement by another loan of £400, part of
which was devoted to the equipment of 120 men for the Scottish war.
In the years 1314 and 1315 there was a dearth, and many died of hunger.
“There followed this famine”—Stow’s _Chronicle_—“a grievous mortalitie
of people, so that the quicke might unneath bury the dead. The Beastes
and Cattell also by the corrupt Grasse whereof they fedde, dyed,
whereby it came to passe that the eating of flesh was suspected of all
men, for flesh of Beastes not corrupted was hard to finde. Horseflesh
was counted great delicates; the poore stole fatte Dogges to eate;
some (as it was sayde) compelled through famine, in hidde places, did
eate the fleshe of their owne children, some stole others which they
devoured. Thieves that were in prisons, did plucke in peeces those that
were newly brought amongst them and greedily devoured them half alive.”
In 1315 there was also a storm which damaged Holborn Bridge and Fleet
Bridge.
In the years 1316, 1317, and 1318, under the Mayoralty of John de
Wengrave, Recorder and Coroner of the City and Alderman of Chepe, there
were dissensions in the City.
The _French Chronicle_ lays the blame upon the Mayor, who, he says,
“did much evil in his time to the Commons.” They were drawing up for
submission to the King certain Articles for the more regular Government
of the City. As John de Wengrave owed his third election to the King
it was not unreasonable to suppose that he was acting in the interest
of the King rather than that of the citizens. However, the articles
were confirmed by the King, who got £1000 in return. The Charter
touches on a great many points, most of them fruitful in quarrels and
disturbances. The analysis of the Charter given in the _Liber Albus_ is
as follows:—
“That the Mayor and Sheriffs of London shall be chosen by the
citizens of that City according to the tenor of their Charters, and in
no other manner.
That the Mayor of the said City shall not remain in office as such
Mayor beyond one year at a time.
Also, that no Sheriff of the City shall have more than two clerks and
two serjeants by reason of his office, and those, persons for whom he
shall be willing to answer.
Also, that the Mayor of the said City, so long as he shall be Mayor,
shall hold no other office pertaining unto that City than such office
of Mayor.
Also, that the Mayor shall not demand to have brought before him, or
hold, any plea that belongs to the Sheriff’s Court.
Also, that the Aldermen of that City shall be removable yearly, and
be removed, on the day of Saint Gregory (12th March), and in the year
following shall not be re-elected, but others (shall be elected) in
their stead, etc.
Also, that the tallages, after being assessed by the men of the
Wards thereunto deputed, shall not be augmented or increased by the
Mayor and Aldermen, except with the common consent of the Mayor and
commonalty.
Also, that the monies arising from such tallages shall be in the
keeping of four reputable men, commoners of the said City.
Also, that no stranger shall be admitted to the freedom of the said
City, except at the Hustings.
Also, that an inhabitant, and especially an Englishman by birth,
a trader of a certain mystery or craft, shall not be admitted to
the freedom of the City aforesaid except upon the security of six
reputable men, of such certain mystery or craft, etc.
Also, that enquiry shall be made each year, if any persons enjoying
the freedom of the City have traded with the property of others who
are not of the freedom, avowing that such goods are their own. And
those who shall be lawfully convicted thereof, shall lose the freedom.
Also, that all who wish to enjoy the freedom of the City shall be in
Lot and Scot, and partakers of all burdens for (maintaining) the state
of the City, etc.
Also, that all persons of the freedom of the City, and dwelling
without the said City, who by themselves and their servants follow a
trade within the City, shall be in Lot and Scot with the commoners of
the same City, etc., or shall be removed from the freedom thereof.
Also, that the Common Seal shall be in the keeping of two Aldermen and
two commoners, by the commonalty to be chosen, and that the same shall
not be denied to poor or to rich.
Also, that the giving of judgment in the Courts of the City, after
verdict (given), shall not be deferred, unless some difficulty
intervene. And if such difficulty shall intervene, such verdicts shall
not stand over beyond the third Court.
Also, that the weights and beams for weighing merchandize as between
merchant and merchant, the issues of which belong to the commonalty,
shall be in the keeping of reputable men, by the commonalty to be
chosen.
Also, that the Sheriffs may entrust the charge of collecting toll and
other customs into their ferm pertaining, as also other public duties
unto themselves belonging, to sufficient men for whom they shall be
willing to answer.
Also, that merchants who are not of the freedom, etc., shall not sell
wines or other wares by retail within the said City.
Also, that in future there shall be no brokers of any merchandize in
the said City, but those who have been chosen thereto by the traders
of their mysteries; and that they shall be sworn before the Mayor.
Also, that common hostelers, although they may not be of the freedom
of the same City, shall be partakers of all (burdens) unto the said
City pertaining, etc. Saving always, that the merchants of Gascoigne
and other strangers may dwell and keep hostels for each other in the
said City, in such manner as they have heretofore been wont to do.
Also, that the keeping of the Bridge shall be entrusted unto two
reputable men of the City aforesaid, other than the Aldermen thereof.
Also, that no Serjeant of the Chamber at the Guildhall shall take a
fee of the commonalty, etc., or do execution, unless he be one elected
by the commonalty thereto.
Also, that the Chamberlain, Common Clerk (and) Common Serjeant of the
City, shall be chosen and removed by the commonalty, at the will of
the same commonalty.
Also, that the Mayor, Recorder, and the Chamberlain and Common Clerk
aforesaid, shall be content with their fees, from of old appointed and
paid.
Also, that the property of the Aldermen of the said City shall be
taxed in aids, tallages, and contributions, by the men of the Wards
in which such Aldermen shall be residing, in the same manner as the
property of the other citizens of the same Wards.
Also, that the Aldermen and commonalty, for the necessities and
advantage of the said City, may among themselves assess and levy
tallages upon their property within the said City, rents as well as
other things.” (Riley’s _Trans._ pp. 127-129.)
According to this Charter the only way to the civic franchise was by
becoming a member of the civic guilds: “That no inhabitant, of any
mystery or trade, be admitted into the freedom of the City, unless by
surety of six honest and sufficient men of the mystery or trade that he
shall be of”—a fact which proves the importance of the guilds. “At this
time,” says the _French Chronicle_, “many of the people of the trades
of London were arrayed in Livery and a good time was about to begin.”
But few of the trades were as yet incorporated.
The history of this unhappy reign, as concerns the City, is much
occupied with charges, claims, and attacks upon the rights of the
citizens of London. In these, the King was advised or led, by men who
understood how to evade and to ignore the law. Edward II., like his
predecessor Henry III., and his successor Richard II., was always in
want of money and never without advisers to show him how to extort
money from the City, whose wealth they believed to be inexhaustible.
Among the last of these attempts was one made in the year 1321 by means
of an Iter. The business is passed over by Maitland, Holinshed, and by
the _French Chronicle_. Its history is related by R. R. Sharpe (_London
and the Kingdom_). He says:
“Its professed object was to examine into unlawful colligations,
confederations, and conventions by oaths, which were known (or
supposed) to have been formed in the City. The annoyance caused by
this Iter, the general stoppage of trade and commerce, the hindrance
of municipal business, is realised when we consider that for six
months not only the Mayor, Sheriffs, and Aldermen for the time
being, but every one who had filled any office in the City since the
holding of the last Iter—a period of nearly half a century—as well
as twelve representatives from each ward, were called upon to be in
constant attendance. All charters were to be produced, and persons who
had grievances of any kind were invited to appear. Great commotion
prevailed among the citizens upon receiving the King’s writ, and they
at once addressed themselves to examining the procedure followed at
former Iters.” ...
“The opening of the Iter did not augur well for the City. Fault
was found at the outset, by Geoffrey le Scrop, the King’s
Sergeant-pleader, because the Sheriffs had not attended so promptly as
they should have done. The excuse, that they had only acted according
to custom in waiting for the grant of a safe-conduct, was held
unsatisfactory, and nothing would please him but that the City should
be at once taken into the King’s hand.
Again, when the citizens claimed to record their liberties and customs
by word of mouth without being compelled to reduce them into writing,
as the justices had ordered, the only reply they got was that they
did so at their own peril. Three days were consumed in preliminary
discussion of points of etiquette and questions of minor importance.
On the fourth day the Mayor and citizens put in their claim of
liberties, which they supported in various charters. The justiciars
desired answers on three points, which were duly made, and matters
seemed to be getting forward when there arrived orders from the King
that the justiciars should inquire as to the ancient right of the
Aldermen to record their liberties orally in the King’s Courts. Having
heard what the citizens had to say on this point, the justiciars were
instructed to withhold their judgment; and this and other questions
touching the liberties of the City were to be postponed for future
determination.
On the ninth day of the Iter, a long schedule, containing over a
hundred articles upon which the Crown desired information, was
delivered to each ward of the City. Days and weeks were consumed in
considering various presentments, besides private suits and pleas of
the Crown. Suits were determined in the Great Hall of the Tower facing
the Thames, whilst pleas of the Crown were heard in the Lesser Hall,
beneath the eastern tower. The justiciars occasionally protracted
their sittings till dusk, much to the disgust of the citizens, whose
business was necessarily at a stand-still, and as yet no indictments
had been made. These were to come.”
First on a pretext of dilatory attendance the Sheriffs were reproved
and the City taken into the King’s hands; then, when the citizens put
in their claims and pleaded their rights, everything was disputed,
discussed, and deferred. The Mayor was deposed, and one Richard de
Kendole took his place as the King’s Commissioner; indictments were
issued against certain leading citizens on one pretext or another; and
after five weary months the Iter was brought to an abrupt conclusion,
having effected nothing. The reason of this was the rebellion of the
Earl of Hereford, which made it dangerous to exasperate the citizens
too much. The King’s Commissioner retired and a new Mayor was elected.
The Earl of Hereford wrote a letter to the City asking for an
interview. The Mayor, Hamo de Chigwell, a diplomatist of a high order,
managed so as to keep on terms both with the King and the Lords. He
promised that he would not aid the Spensers nor would he oppose the
Lords: the City, in a word, proclaimed neutrality. The Mayor preserved
order by a patrol of a thousand men. The events which followed
belong to the history of England; London played her part: she sent a
contingent with the King to punish Sir Bartholomew de Badlesmere for
an insult offered to the Queen; she gave the king 500 archers to fight
at Boroughbridge, when the Earl of Lancaster was taken prisoner. After
taking part in the defeat of Lancaster the people of London set him
up as a Saint: they declared that miracles were wrought at his tomb.
Edward tried to force a “Charter of Service” binding the Londoners to
go out with him to war, but the City stood firm: Edward’s time was
nearly completed. The Queen came over with the avowed intention of
banishing the Spensers. The King fled from London, and London rose in
open revolt. Edward, before leaving, placed the town in the hands of
Sir John de Weston, gave the custody of the City to Walter Stapleton,
Bishop of Exeter, and then set out for the western part of the kingdom,
for the defence of his favourites, and, as it turned out, to meet his
death. The determination with which the Prince constantly stood by his
favourites argues obstinacy at least as a quality which might have been
turned to better purpose.
Hamo de Chigwell, who was a fishmonger, seems to have led one party
and Nicholas Farringdon, a goldsmith, another; but the King appears
to have set up and deposed both in turn and with impartiality. In
1326, when the Queen was in Flanders and her lands were seized, Hamo
de Chigwell was Mayor. The streets of London were every day the scene
of rioting and fighting; the trades fought with each other; the
partisans of the Queen fought with the partisans of the King. When the
Queen came over bringing her son with her she sent a letter to London
with a proclamation denouncing the Spensers. This proclamation amid
the cheers of the people was affixed to the Cross in Chepe. Hamo de
Chigwell forsook his post and fled to the Black Friars for safety.
Hither came the commons and forced him to proclaim the enemies of the
King and Queen and their son. And they showed that they meant what
they said by seizing one William Marshall, an adherent of the Spensers,
and murdering him. It is a curious story of wild justice. The City
was for some time entirely in the hands of the common people, who
robbed and murdered all suspected of being favourable to the King and
the Spensers. The events are thus graphically related by the _French
Chronicle_:—
“At this time, at Saint Michael, Lady Isabelle, the Queen, and Sir
Edward, her son, sent their letters to the commons of London, to the
effect that they should assist in destroying the enemies of the land:
but received no answer in return, as to their wishes thereon, through
fear of the King. Wherefore a letter was sent to London by the Queen
and her son, and was fixed at daybreak upon the Cross in Chepe, and a
copy of the letter on the windows elsewhere, upon Thursday, that is
to say, the Feast of Saint Dionis (October 9), to the effect that the
commons should be aiding with all their power in destroying the enemies
of the land, and Hugh le Despenser in especial, for the common profit
of all the realm: and that the commons should send them information as
to their wishes thereon. Wherefore the commonalty proceeded to wait
upon the Mayor and other great men of the City at the Friars Preachers
in London, upon the Wednesday before the Feast of Saint Luke (October
18), which then fell on a Saturday: so much so, that the Mayor, crying
mercy with clasped hands, went to the Guildhall and granted the commons
their demand, and cry was accordingly made in Chepe, that the enemies
to the King, and the Queen, and their son, should all quit the City
upon such peril as might ensue. It happened also on the same day, at
the hour of noon, that some persons had recourse to arms, and seized
one John le Marchal, a burgess of the City, in his own house near
Walbrok, who was held as an enemy to the City and a spy of Sir Hugh
le Despenser; and he was brought into Chepe and there despoiled and
beheaded. Just after this, upon the same day and at the same hour,
there came one Sir Walter de Stapelton, the then Bishop of Exestre
and Treasurer to the King the year before, riding towards his hostel
in Eldedeaneslane, to dine there; and just then he was proclaimed a
traitor; upon hearing of which, he took to flight and rode towards
Saint Paul’s Church, where he was met, and instantly dragged from his
horse and carried into Chepe; and there he was despoiled, and his head
cut off. Also, one of his esquires, who was a vigorous man, William
Walle by name, took to flight, but was seized at London Bridge, brought
back into Chepe and beheaded; while John de Padington, another, who
was warden of the manor of the said Bishop, without Temple Bar, and
was held in bad repute, was beheaded the same day in Chepe. Upon the
same day, towards Vespers, came the choir of Saint Paul’s and took
the headless body of the said Bishop, and carried it to Saint Paul’s
Church: where they were given to understand that he had died under
sentence: upon which, the body was carried to the church of Saint
Clement without Temple Bar. But the people of that church put it out of
the building: whereupon certain women and persons in the most abject
poverty took the body, which would have been quite naked, had not
one woman given a piece of old cloth to cover the middle, and buried
it in a place apart without making a grave, and his esquire near him
all naked, and without any office of priest or clerk: and this spot
is called ‘the Lawless Church.’ The same night there was a burgess
robbed, John de Charltone by name. Also, on the Thursday following, the
Manors of Fynesbury and of Yvilane, which belonged to Master Robert
Baldok, the King’s Chancellor, were despoiled of the wines and of all
things that were therein, and many other robberies were committed in
the City. Also, upon the same day, the commons of London were armed
and assembled at the Lede Hall on Cornhille, and the Constable of the
Tower there agreed with the commons that he would deliver unto them
Sir John de Eltham, the King’s son; as also, the children of Sir Roger
Mortimer, Sir Moriz de Berklee, Sir Bartholomew de Burghasche, and the
other persons who had been imprisoned in the Tower, by reason of the
dissensions for which Sir Thomas de Lancaster and other great men had
been put to death: those who were released being sworn unto the commons
that they would live and die with them in that cause, and that they
would maintain the well being of the City and the peace thereof. Also,
there were sworn and received into the protection of the City, the Dean
of Saint Paul’s, the Official of Canterbury, the Dean of the Arches,
the Abbots of Westminster and of Stratford, and all the religious, and
all the justices and clerks, to do such watch and ward as unto them
belonged to do. At the same time, upon the Vigil of Saint Luke (October
18) the tablet which Saint Thomas de Lancastre had painted and hung up
in the church of Saint Paul was replaced upon the pillar: which tablet
had been removed from the pillar by the rigorous command of the King’s
writ. At the same time, the Friars Preachers took to flight, because
they feared that they should be maltreated and annihilated: seeing
that the commonalty entertained great enmity against them by reason of
their haughty carriage, they not behaving themselves as friars ought to
behave. At this time, it was everywhere the common talk that if Stephen
de Segrave, Bishop of London, had been found, he would have been put to
the sword with the others who were beheaded: as well as some Justiciars
and others, who betook themselves elsewhere in concealment so that they
could not be found.”
[Illustration:
_G. W. Wilson & Co._
SHRINE OF KING EDWARD II., GLOUCESTER CATHEDRAL]
The condition of London during the later years of Edward II. was
miserable. There was no authority: the King deposed one Mayor and set
up another; the crafts quarrelled and fought with each other; the
popular sympathies were with Queen Isabella: we have seen how these
sympathies ended with robbery and murder; the Black Friars who were
thought to favour the King had to fly for their lives.
On the 15th of November 1326 the Queen sent the Bishop of Winchester
into the City. He met the Aldermen at Guildhall, received the freedom
of the City, swore to maintain its franchise and then presented a
letter from the Queen restoring to the citizens the right of electing
their Mayor—a right withheld since the Iter of 1321. They showed
their sense of obligation by electing two citizens, named Richard de
Betoyne and John Gisors, who had been active in assisting the escape of
Mortimer from the Tower in 1322.
Mortimer himself, with the Archbishop of Canterbury and a large
following, repaired to the Guildhall early in the year 1327, and there
swore to maintain the liberties of the City. A few days later the
unhappy Edward was brutally murdered.
CHAPTER VII
EDWARD III
[Illustration: EDWARD III. (1312-1377)
From a print in the British Museum.]
The letter from the Queen in November 1326; the visit of Mortimer in
1327 and his oath taken before the Mayor and Chamberlain; and the
first acts of the new reign—not of the new King, who was not yet of
age,—all together prove the importance of the City in the minds of the
new rulers. For the first acts were the grants of three simultaneous
charters.
The _Liber Albus_ contains a brief synopsis of the contents of the
first of these charters, which Maitland rightly calls golden. It is
dated 6th March 1327:—
“That the citizens of London shall have their liberties according
to the form of the Great Charter, etc.; and that impediments of
usurpation upon them in that behalf made shall be repealed and
annulled.
Also, that the Mayor of London for the time being shall be one of the
Justiciars for (the delivery of) the Gaol of Newgate.
Also, that the citizens of London shall have Infangthef, and
Outfangthef, and the chattels of all felons who shall be adjudged by
them as such within the liberties of the City aforesaid.
Also, that whereas the citizens of London had been charged by the
Sheriffwick of London and Middlesex in the sum of four hundred pounds
into the Exchequer of his lordship the King, the said citizens shall
in future have one hundred pounds thereof remitted.
Also, that the citizens of London may devise their tenements within
the liberties as well in mortmain as in any other way.
That the Sheriffs of London, so often as it shall happen that they are
amerced for any offence, shall be amerced according to the extent of
such offence, in the same manner as the other Sheriffs of the realm.
Also, that for the escape of thieves the Sheriffs of London shall on
no account be charged or amerced otherwise than other Sheriffs, on
this side Trent; who for such escapes are amerced, it is said, in the
sum of one hundred shillings.
Also, that the citizens of London shall not be charged otherwise than
as of old they have been wont to be charged, for the custody of those
who flee to churches for immunity, etc.
Also that the citizens of London may remove and seize all Kidels in
the waters of Thames and Medewaie, and shall have the punishments
therefore unto us pertaining.
Also, that foreign merchants coming into England shall sell their
merchandise within forty days after their arrival, and shall lodge at
the tables of the free hosts of the City.
Also, that neither the Steward or the Marshal nor the Clerk of the
Market shall sit within the liberties of the City, or exercise any
office there.
Also, that the Mayor for the time being shall exercise the office of
Escheator within the City aforesaid.
Also, that the citizens of London shall not be compelled to go or to
send to war beyond the City aforesaid.
Also, that the Constable of the Tower of London shall not make prises,
by land or by water, of provisions or of any other things whatsoever.
Also, that the citizens of London shall have wardens of the number
of their fellow-citizens to hold pleas in all good fairs of England,
pleas of land and pleas of the Crown excepted.
Also, that the Sheriffs for the time being shall not be compelled to
make oath at our Exchequer, except at the rendering of their accounts.
Also, that the citizens shall have all their liberties and
free customs, as from of old they were wont to enjoy the same,
notwithstanding that the said citizens at the Iter of Henry de
Stantone and his associates, etc., were challenged as to the same.
Also, that one writ shall suffice in the Exchequer, and in every place
of his lordship the King, for the allowance of their charters.
Also, that no summons, attachment, or execution shall be made within
the liberties of the City by any officer of his lordship the King,
with writ or without writ, but only by the officers of the said (City).
Also, that the Sheriffs of London shall have wholly the forfeitures
of victuals, and of other articles and merchandise, according to the
tenor of the Charters, etc.
Also, that the citizens of London in future shall at their Iters, be
dealt with according to the same laws by which they were dealt with at
the Iters holden in the times of their lordships John and Henry, late
Kings of England, and other their progenitors.
Also, that nothing in the Iter aforesaid done or attempted against
the liberties and free customs of the citizens, shall act to their
prejudice or prevent them from being dealt with as from of old.
Also, that the citizens of London, in aids, grants, and contributions,
shall be taxed and shall contribute with the commonalty of the realm,
like men of the counties and not like men of the cities and boroughs;
and that they shall be quit of all other tallages.
Also, that the liberties of the City of London shall not be taken
into the hand of his lordship the King for any personal trespass or
personal judgment of any officer of the said City; and that no Warden
shall in the same on such pretext be appointed.
Also, that no officer of his lordship the King shall make any prise
within the City aforesaid, or without, of the goods of citizens
against their will, unless he shall immediately make due payment for
the same.
Also, that no prise shall be made of the wines of the said citizens by
any servant (of ourselves) or of our heirs, or of any other person,
against their will; that is to say, (prisage) of one tun before the
mast and of one tun behind the mast.
Also, that no officer or purveyor of the King or of his heirs shall
trade, by himself or by others, within the said City or without, in
anything as to which their offices are concerned.
Also, that the lands lying without the City of such citizens of London
as have been, or shall hereafter be, officers of the City aforesaid,
shall be held liable for keeping the said City harmless, etc., as to
matters that concern their offices, in the same way as their tenements
within the same City.
Also, that no market shall in future be held within seven miles in
circuit of the City aforesaid.
Also, that all Inquisitions to be taken by the Justiciars and other
officers of the King as to men of the said City shall be taken at
Saint Martin’s le Grand, and not elsewhere, except inquisitions taken
at Iters at the Tower and for delivery of the Gaol of Newgate.
Also, that no citizen shall be impleaded or troubled at the Exchequer
or elsewhere by bill; except as to those matters which concern his
lordship the King or his heirs.
Also, that the citizens of London shall have all their liberties and
free customs whole and unimpaired, as freely as they ever had the same
(the Statute for merchants, to the injury of the liberties of the
City aforesaid, in the Parliament at York in the ninth year of Edward
the Third enacted to the contrary notwithstanding), etc.” (Riley’s
_Trans._ pp. 129-132.)
It will be observed that this charter is not only a confirmation of
all the ancient Privileges and Liberties, but it creates new ones. (1)
The Mayor was appointed one of the Judges of Oyer and Terminer for the
trials of criminals in Newgate; (2) the citizens were to have the right
of Infang-thefe and Outfang-thefe, _i.e._ the right of trying every
thief or robber taken within the City, and the right of bringing back
to the City for trial every citizen apprehended elsewhere. (3) A right
to the goods and chattels of all felons condemned within the City. (4)
The remission of £100 a year on the rent of Middlesex. (5) The right
of devising real property. (6) The Sheriffs of London to be amerced
no otherwise than their brothers south of the Thames. (7) All Foreign
Merchants to sell their goods within forty days. (8) The citizens not
chargeable with the custody of those who take Sanctuary. (9) The King’s
Marshal, Steward, or Clerk of the Household to have no authority in the
City. (10) The Mayor to be the King’s escheator of felons’ goods. (11)
The citizens who resort to country fairs to carry with them a Court
of Pie Powder. (12) The citizens to be free from tallages, other than
those assessed upon other places. (13) The City liberties not to be
seized on account of the personal offences of any magistrate. (14) The
King’s Purveyor to have no right to fix the price of anything. (15) And
no market to be held within seven miles of the City.
The charter looked as if the citizens had been simply invited to take
what they pleased in the way of liberties.
By another charter Southwark, _i.e._ the King’s Manor, not the whole
of Southwark, was granted as a part of the City. By a third a general
pardon for all late offences was also granted.
Maitland speaks of a dangerous insurrection of certain trades and
of their parading the streets armed, killing many. The so-called
“insurrection” seems to have been nothing more than a continuation of
the late lawless brawls; the people had tasted the joy of fighting in
the streets and wanted to continue that amusement. The King addressed
a letter to the Mayor calling upon him to keep better order. A number
of arrests were made and a good many persons were executed; but the
riotous condition of the City continued. The chief cause of trouble was
the continual quarrelling between the trades. Thus at this very time,
viz. the first years of Edward III., the Mayor arranged a dispute,
which led to free fighting in the streets, between the Saddlers of the
one part and the Joiners, Painters, and Loriners of the other part.
“Be it remembered, that whereas a certain affray lately took place
between the men of the trade of the saddlers of the City of London,
on the one part, and the men of the trades of the joiners, painters,
and loriners, as well in copper as in iron, of the same City, on the
other part, by reason of a certain rancour and dissension which had
lately arisen between them, namely, on Thursday, the Feast of our
Lord’s Ascension (May 20) last past: upon which day, certain of them,
on either side, strongly provided with an armed force, exchanged blows
and manfully began to fight, as well in Chepe as in the street of
Crepelgate, and elsewhere in the same City; on which occasion certain
among them were wickedly, and against the peace of our Lord the King,
killed, and many others mortally wounded; by reason of which dissension
and exchange of blows, the greater part of the City was in alarm, to
the great disgrace and scandal of the whole City, and the manifest
peril thereof; which dissension and exchange of blows became so serious
and so outrageous as hardly to be appeased through the intervention
of the Mayor, Sheriffs, and officers of the City; such contention
being however at last, so well as it might be, allayed by the Mayor,
Sheriffs, and other officers of the City, the said Mayor and Sheriffs
appointed a day for the men of the trades aforesaid to appear before
them at the Guildhall, namely, the Friday following, being the morrow
of Our Lord’s Ascension, to the end that they might set forth their
reasons on either side.
Upon the said day, there came accordingly to the Guildhall the men
of the said trades, and, in presence of the Mayor, Sheriffs, and
Aldermen, did set forth their grievances in writing, Whereupon, a
certain Petition was presented to the Mayor by the joiners, painters,
and loriners. The causes of quarrel are too long to be detailed here.
Suffice it to say that all these trades attempted then what they
attempt still, and that they cried out on each other for wickedness.”
The reception of the Lady Philippa of Hainault, who came over to be
married to the young King, was made an occasion for the display and
magnificence which the City has always loved.
As soon as the King was crowned he set out to take the field against
the Scots. The Londoners gave him a hundred horsemen fully equipped,
and a hundred footmen, on the assurance that this gift would not be
taken as a precedent. The expedition accomplished little, and the war
was ended by the Treaty of Northampton, which angered the Londoners
against Isabella and Mortimer excessively.
In November 1328 the Earl of Lancaster rose in revolt against the
Queen-mother. How that rebellion fared we know. Mortimer came out of
it, apparently, stronger than ever.
It is difficult to make out clearly what passed in London during and
after the revolt of Lancaster. The citizens regarded the want of
success in the Scottish Expedition as due to Mortimer and the Queen.
But between anger and rebellion there may be a wide gulf. There were
partisans of Lancaster and there were supporters of the Queen; the
King’s name was used by both parties.
We have already, in the preceding reign, heard of Hamo de Chigwell: we
find him now brought to trial; not for favouring the late King, but on
a charge of feloniously appropriating two silver basins, the property
of the Abbot of Bury St. Edmunds. He was convicted, but claimed the
benefit of clergy, and was conveyed to the Bishop of London’s prison.
His character is not of the clearest to decipher, but he was one of the
foremost citizens of the time, and it was a time when they demanded
much strength and resolution. A year later he was allowed to go free.
But as the citizens prepared to make a demonstration of rejoicing and
welcome, the Queen with alarm ordered his arrest. He escaped, however,
and is heard of no more in the City. In 1332 he devised some property
to the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul’s to found a chantry.
Before leaving England in 1329 the King sent to the City a general
proclamation. No one was to carry arms in the City except the officers
of the City. No one was to walk about the City after curfew; there were
to be no covins or congregations; no tavern was to be kept open after
curfew; nobody was to spread lies about the City; no one was to harbour
a stranger more than one night and one day, if he did not wish to be
answerable for him.
The question which occupied the City at this time was practically that
of Free Trade. There had been certain towns at which was established
the Staple; that is to say, the market from which wools could be
exported. No wool was to be exported until it had remained at a staple
for a period of forty days. The rule was relaxed by Edward II. in
favour of all towns except London, merchants being allowed to remove
wool after fifteen days. The merchants of London naturally complained
of this exception, but at first without success.
[Illustration: A JOUST OR TOURNAMENT OF THE PERIOD
From Strutt’s _Manners and Customs_.]
Edward proposed, next, to remove the Staple to the Continent, but the
opposition of the merchants obliged him to renounce this project. He
thereupon abolished all Staples, and established Free Trade in Wool.
He also invited Flemings to come over, settle in England, and carry on
their weaving here.
Cheapside would seem to present a narrow and confined area for the
manœuvres and the combat of mounted knights, yet King Edward held a
great Tournament there in the year 1331. We must remember that between
the Church of St. Peter in the west and the House of St. Thomas of Acon
in the east the street was a great deal wider than it was afterwards:
for a length of 750 feet east and west it had a width of something
like 150 feet; the space being occupied chiefly by stalls. It narrowed
on the east side at the Poultry, and on the west side at St. Peter’s
Church, part of the burial ground of which still remains. Stow’s
account of what happened at the Tournament is as follows:—
“In the middle of the City of London in a street called Cheape, the
stone pavement being covered with sand, that the horses might not
slide when they strongly set their feet to the ground, the King held a
tournament three days together, with the nobility, valiant men of the
realm, and other some strange knights. And to the end the beholders
might with the better ease see the same, there was a wooden scaffold
erected across the street, like unto a tower, wherein Queen Philippa
and many other ladies, richly attired, and assembled from all parts
of the realm, did stand to behold the jousts: but the higher frame,
on which the ladies were placed, brake in sunder, whereby they were
with some shame forced to fall down, by reason whereof the knights,
and such as were underneath were grievously hurt: wherefore the Queen
took great care to save the carpenters from punishment, and through
her prayers (which she made upon her knees) pacified the King and
Council, and thereby purchased great love of the people. After which
time the King caused a shed to be strongly made of stone for himself,
the Queen, and other estates to stand on, and there to behold the
joustings, and other shows, at their pleasure, by the Church of St.
Mary Bow, as is showed in Cordwainer Street Ward.”
The stone “selde” or shed, as Stow calls it, was still standing in his
time. “Without the north side of St. Mary Bow towards West Cheap a
fair building of stone called in record Seldam: a shed which greatly
darkeneth the said church; for by means thereof all the windows and
doors of that side are stopped up.” Henry IV. granted the place to
certain Mercers who established shops there but did not pull it down or
alter it, and it remained until the Great Fire as the place from which
great personages witnessed City shows. The places most commonly used
for tournaments were Smithfield and Tothill Fields. At the former was
held a very great tournament thirty years later, in the presence of the
King and Queen, and another forty years after there was another when
the old King conducted thither, to grace the sports, his mistress Alice
Perrers, sitting in a triumphal chariot, as the “Lady of the Sun.”
The example in anarchy and disorder witnessed during the last reign
makes it less surprising to hear of fresh riots in London, apparently
among the Craftsmen. The King addressed a strong letter to the Mayor
calling upon the City to repress these disorders. Further measures were
taken against disorderly folk in the City but without success, since
the King was forced to write again upon the subject. On Wednesday,
12th April, Sir Robert de Asheby, Clerk of the King, summoned the
Mayor and Aldermen before the King’s Council at Westminster. Here they
were informed that the King was going to war; that this was a costly
amusement; and that he desired the City to lend him £20,000. The Mayor
begged for time, and called a meeting of the Aldermen and the better
sort, not at Guildhall, but at the Chapter House of Westminster.
They began by offering the King 5000 marks, which is £3333: 6: 8.
This the King refused, with an intimation that if they could do no
better than that, he should ask for a list of the principal citizens.
They therefore held another meeting and offered to lend the King
£5000—“although it was a hard thing and difficult to do.” This offer
was accepted. To raise this sum the whole of the City was assessed,
sparing none. The richest man in the City was William de Caustom,
Alderman, who was assessed at £400; that is to say, his share of the
loan was set down at £400.
In 1338 there was a scare about a French descent. The King ordered the
City to be “strictly closed” and fortified against any sudden attack
by water. Everybody was to aid in this work, whether belonging to a
religious community or not.
An inventory of munitions of war was drawn up in 1339. It shows that at
a house near the Tower called the “Bretasche” there were 7 springalds
(large crossbows); 380 quarels or bolts feathered with leatten or
latone (a mixed metal); 500 quarels of wood; 29 cords; and 8 bows of
ash for the springalds. At Aldgate 1 springald and 40 quarels; in the
Chamber of the Guildhall 6 engines of latone usually called “gonnes”
and 5 rollers for the same; also pellets of lead weighing 4½ cwt.;
and 32 pounds of powder. This is the earliest mention of guns in
England, the next earliest occurring five years later. Riley suggests
that they had been brought over to this country by the Bardi from
Florence whose guns had been used in war as early as 1326. He quotes
Chaucer, _House of Fame_, book iii.:
“Swift as a pellet out of a gonne
When fire is in the powder ronne.”
The King and the citizens were on friendly terms throughout: but from
time to time we see a touch of the Plantagenet.
The assessment shows the comparative wealth of the various wards:
£ _s._ _d._
Tower Ward 365 0 0
Billingsgate Ward 763 0 0
Bridge Ward 765 6 8
Dowgate Ward 660 10 0
Langburn Ward 352 6 8
Wallbrook 911 0 0
Bishopsgate Ward 559 6 8
Limestreet Ward 110 0 0
Cornhill Ward 315 0 0
Cheap Ward 517 10 0
Broadstreet Ward 588 0 0
Vintry Ward 634 16 8
Bread Street Ward 461 16 8
Queenhithe Ward 435 13 4
Cordwainer Street Ward 2195 3 4
Faringdon Ward Within 730 16 8
Faringdon Ward Without 114 13 4
Cripplegate Ward 462 10 0
Colemanstreet Ward 1051 16 8
Candlewickstreet Ward 133 6 8
Aldgate Ward 30 0 0
Portsoken Ward 27 10 0
Castle Baynard Ward 63 6 8
Bassisshaw Ward 79 13 4
Aldersgate Ward 57 10 0
————————————————-
Sum Total £12,385 13 4
=================
A riot in the streets between the Fishmongers and the Skinners led to
results much more useful than a King’s letter, for two rioters were
executed—an example greatly needed and extremely useful.
Among the ships of Edward’s Fleet were three belonging to London:
“La Jonette,” “La Cogge,” and “La Sainte Marie Cogne.” The last ship
belonged to William Haunsard, ex-Sheriff. London also sent a contingent
of nearly 200 men fully armed on board these ships. These ships were
among those which fought in the great victory of Sluys. The battle is
thus described by the _French Chronicle_:—
“In this year all the mariners of England, by commission of our Lord
the King, had all their ships speedily assembled and victualled, and
hardy and vigorous men from all parts well equipped and armed at all
points, in every place to fight for life or death. And when the fleet
of ships of England was assembled in manner aforesaid, Sir Edward, our
King, and his people were in the parts of Bury Saint Edmund’s: and from
thence he passed on to Orwelle, where he put to sea, with his people
beyond number, upon the Thirsday next before the Nativity of Saint John
the Baptist (24 June) which was on a Saturday: and upon the next Friday
morning, our King espied his enemies upon the sea, and said ‘Because
our Lord Jesus Christ was put to death on a Friday, we will not shed
blood upon that day.’
The wind had then been in the east for a whole fortnight before the
King put to sea, but by the grace of Him who is Almighty, the wind
shifted immediately to the west: so that by the grace of God, the King
and his fleet had both wind and weather to their mind. And so they
sailed on until sunrise at break of day: when he saw his enemies so
strongly equipped, that it was a most dreadful thing to behold: for
the fleet of the ships of France was so strongly bound together with
massive chains, castles, bretasches, and bars. But, notwithstanding
this, Sir Edward our King, said to all those who were around him in
the fleet of England:—‘Fair lords and brethren of mine, be nothing
dismayed, but be all of good cheer, and he who for me shall begin the
fight and shall combat with a right good heart, shall have the benison
of God Almighty: and everyone shall retain that which he shall gain.’
And so soon as our King had said this, all were of right eager heart
to avenge him of his enemies. And then our mariners hauled their
sails half-mast high, and hauled up their anchors in manner as though
they intended to fly: and when the fleet of France beheld this, they
loosened themselves from their heavy chains to pursue us. And forthwith
our ships turned back upon them, and the mêlée began, to the sound of
trumpets, nakers, viols, tabors, and many other kinds of minstrelsy.
And then did our King, with three hundred ships, vigorously assail the
French with their five hundred great ships and gallies, and eagerly
did our people exert great diligence to give battle to the French. Our
archers and our arbalesters began to fire as densely as hail falls in
winter, and our engineers hurled so steadily, that the French had not
power to look or to hold up their heads. And in the meantime, while
this assault lasted, our English people with a great force boarded
their gallies, and fought with the French hand to hand, and threw them
out of their ships and gallies. And always our King encouraged to fight
bravely with his enemies, he himself being in the cog called ‘Thomas
of Winchelsee.’ And at the hour of tierce there came to them a ship of
London, which belonged to William Haunsard, and it did much good in
the said battle. For the battle was so severe and so hardly contested,
that the assault lasted from noon all day and all night, and the morrow
until the hour of prime: and when the battle was discontinued no French
man remained alive, save only Spaudefisshe, who took to flight with
four and twenty ships and gallies.”
The Battle of Sluys was followed by the Siege of Tournay which proved
fruitless: the King came home without any money, and furious against
his ministers, whom he sent to prison. An inquiry was ordered as to
the mode of collecting the King’s revenues in the City. The citizens
objected to the judges holding this session in the City; they refused
to answer any questions unless their liberties were respected; they
raised a special fund for the purpose of defending the City’s rights.
The King retorted by ordering an Iter, but being unwilling to alienate
the City, which was so useful in time of war, he desisted and gave the
citizens a new Charter (26th March 1341). At the same time they were
called upon to provide twenty-six ships fully equipped and victualled,
and the King for his part got another thousand pounds for himself.
After a truce for three years the war was renewed. In March 1346 the
London contingent of 600 archers, 100 men-at-arms, and 200 horsemen,
were called out and paraded on Tothill Fields. They sailed with the
King’s fleet of a thousand ships on the 10th July 1346.
After the battle of Crecy the King sent word to the Mayor that many of
his men had deserted, and that all who could be found were to be seized
and sent back, whether they were knights, esquires, or of lower order.
This seems to show that they went out on short service time which had
expired. It also shows that no police existed to prevent deserters from
taking ship across the Channel. Another fleet was fitted out to which
the City contributed two ships. All the ships in the port were also
seized.
After the surrender of Calais the King came home, his army laden with
spoil. “And now,” says Holinshed, “it seemed to the English people
that the sunne breake foorth after a long cloudie season, by reason
both of the great plentie of althings, and remembrance of the late
glorious victories: for there were few women that were housekeepers
within this land, but they had some furniture of household that had
beene brought to them out of France as part of the Spoile got in Caen,
Calis, Carenten, or some other good towne. And beside household stuffe,
the English maides and matrones were bedecked and trimmed up in French
women’s jewels and apparell, so that as the French women lamented for
the loss of these things, so our women rejoiced of the gaine.”
In the twentieth year of Edward’s reign he issued an ordinance
providing for the expulsion of all leprous persons from the City.
“Forasmuch,” he begins, “as we have been given to understand that many
persons, as well of the City aforesaid, as others coming to the same
City, being smitten with the blemish of leprosy, do publicly dwell
among the other citizens and sound persons and there continually abide;
and do not hesitate to communicate with them as well in public places
as in private: and that some of them endeavouring to contaminate others
with that abominable blemish (that so to their own wretched solace
they may have the more fellows in suffering) as well as in the way of
mutual communication, and by the contagion of their polluted breath,
and by sexual intercourse with women in stews and other secret places
detestably frequenting the same, do so taint persons who are sound,
both male and female, to the great injury of the people dwelling in
the City aforesaid, and the manifest peril of other persons to the
same City resorting....” And he orders the removal of all such persons
from the City within fifteen days, and forbids for the future any one
to harbour in his house any one “smitten with the blemish of leprosy.”
This order seems to have been obeyed.
It is unfortunate that we do not know the number of the wretched lepers
who were thus driven out. The disease itself, the ravages of which
had been terrible, was now slowly disappearing: within two hundred
years from this time it had practically disappeared. That there were
still a good number of lepers in London is proved by the fact that the
citizens in obedience to the law began to build lazar houses outside
the City. Three at least there were already: that of St. Giles in
the Fields, founded by Queen Matilda, wife of Henry I.; that of St.
James in the Fields, founded for leprous virgins; and that of Great
Ilford in Essex, founded by King Stephen, the only one now left of
the leprous foundations. The new lazar houses erected were: one at
the Lock without Southwark in Kent Street; one between Mile End Road
and Stratford-le-Bow; one at Kingsland between Shoreditch and Stoke
Newington; and one at Knightsbridge. One is mentioned twenty years
later at Hackney. Another was founded a hundred years later by one
William Yeoman of the Crown, himself a leper, on the high road between
Highgate and Holloway. Twenty-six years later John Mayn, a baker and
a leper, “who had oftentimes been before commanded by the Mayor and
Aldermen to depart from the City” (oftentimes! Here is a proof of the
weakness of the Executive!), was finally ordered to depart at once. It
is not stated whether he obeyed.
In 1348 the Black Death broke out. We shall hear of this again. It
is sufficient here to record that probably two-thirds of the whole
population of London were killed by this pestilence. The churchyards
were full, and would hold no more bodies. The Bishop of London gave one
piece of ground and Sir Walter Manny gave another, making in all over
13 acres of land for the burial of the dead: in a short time 50,000
persons were lying there. Another piece of ground given by a priest
named John Cony for the same object on the east side of the City was
also speedily filled with thousands of bodies.
Scarcely had the City recovered from this calamity when it was called
upon to join in suppressing pirates who in time of war and trouble
always infested the Channel. The City furnished two ships, one with
forty men-at-arms and sixty archers, commanded by Andrew Turk, and one
with thirty men-at-arms and forty archers, commanded by Gosceline de
Cleve. The fleet destroyed a Spanish fleet and captured twenty-four
ships laden with merchandise.
The return of the Black Prince with his royal captive after the battle
of Poitiers was an occasion for such a display as the City always
loved. A thousand of the citizens, richly clad and well mounted, met
the Prince at Southwark: the King of France rode a splendid charger:
beside him the victorious Prince rode a little galloway. At the foot
of London Bridge they were met by the Mayor, Aldermen, Sheriffs, and
the several craftsmen in their liveries and colours. All through the
streets the houses were hung with tapestries and glittered with arms
and armour of all kinds. It was perhaps the greatest day for the
national pride and rejoicing that the City had ever seen.
At the expiration of the Two Years’ truce the war broke out again. A
French fleet swept along the coast of Sussex landing an army of 20,000
men, who committed the atrocities common to an invading force, burning
towns, destroying crops, killing men. The City of London fitted out a
fleet of 80 vessels with 14,000 men, including archers, but these were
too late to meet the enemy.
It was at this time that Henry Picard, the Vintner, gave that most
famous of all the City banquets, at which he entertained the King of
England, the King of France, the King of Scotland, the King of Denmark,
and the King of Cyprus, as well as the Black Prince.
The war lingered on for some years, but there were no more glorious
victories, and in 1375 peace was concluded. A change was attempted in
the constitution of the City; by this the election of Mayor, Sheriffs,
and Common Council was placed in the hands of the guilds instead of the
wards, but after ten years the new plan was found not to work so well
as the old, to which the City returned.
In 1365 an important ordinance was passed concerning what things a
tenant in leaving a house might take with him:—
“It is ordained that if any persons hire a tenement, House, or Houses,
in the city of London or in the suburbs of the said city, to hold the
same for the term of Life, or of Years, or only from year to year, or
from quarter to quarter: if the said tenant shall make, or cause to
be made, any pentyses or other easements in the said tenement, house,
outhouses, fixed with nails of iron or wooden pegs to the premises, or
to the soil thereof: it shall not be lawful for such tenant to remove
such pentyses or easements at the end of the term, or at any other
time to destroy them: but they shall always remain to the landlord of
the said premises, as a parcel thereof.”
This ordinance was translated from Latin into English with the
following explanation:—
“Whereas nowe of late amonge divers people was sprongen Matter of
doute upon the most olde custome had and used in this Cyte of London,
of suche thyngys which by tenauntys terms of lyfe or yerys been
affixyd unto houses, without specyall lycence of the owner of the
soyle, whether they owe to remayne unto the Owner of the Soyle, as
Parcel of the same, or ellys whether it shall be lawfull unto suche
Tenantys on thende of her terme all suche thyngys affyxed to remove.
Whereupon olde Bokys seen, and many Recordys, olde processys,
and judementys of the sayd Cyte, it was declared by the Mayre and
Aldermen, for an olde prescrybed custome of the Cyte aforesayd,
that all suche easementys fixyd unto houses, or to soyle by suche
tenementys, without specyal and expresse lycence of the owner of
the soyle, if they be affyxed with Nayles of Irne or of tree, as
pentyses, glasse, lockys, benchys or ony suche other, or ellse yf they
be affyxed with Morter or Lyme, or of erther or ony other Morter as
forneys, leedys, candorous Chemyneys, Corbels, pavemettis, or suche
other: or elles yf plantes be roetyd in the grounds, as vines, trees,
grasse stounks, trees of fruit, etc., it shall not be laufull into
suche tenauntys in the end of her terme, or ony other tyme therin, nor
only of them, to put awaye more, or plucke up in ony wyse, but that
they shall alway remayne to the ownar of the soyle, as parcels of the
same soyle or Tenement.”
At the Good Parliament of 1376 three City Aldermen were charged
with malversation. All three were deprived of their posts: one was
imprisoned, one fled to Flanders to escape trial, one was deprived of
his patent of monopoly. With the design of winning favour from the
young heir to the Crown, the City resolved upon presenting him with an
entertainment and gifts. The Prince with his mother and his suite was
living at the Palace of Kennington.
[Illustration: SIR HENRY PICARD ENTERTAINING THE KINGS OF ENGLAND,
FRANCE, SCOTLAND, DENMARK, AND CYPRUS
From the Fresco painting in the Royal Exchange, London, by permission
of the Artist, A. Chevallier Tayler.]
“For which purpose, on the Sunday before Candlemas one hundred and
thirty-two citizens on horseback in Masquerade attended by trumpets, a
variety of other musical instruments, and a vast number of flambeaux,
marched from Newgate through the City and Borough of Southwark, to
the Prince’s residence aforesaid. In the first division rode eight
and forty persons dressed in the habits of Esquires, with Red Coats,
Say[2] Gowns, and beautiful Vizards. Then followed the same number of
persons apparelled like knights, in the same livery as the former.
Then rode one in a very pompous imperial habit, followed at some
distance by a person resembling the Pope, attended by four and twenty
Cardinals: followed by ten persons in hideous black vizards, as legates
from an infernal Pontiff. This Cavalcade of masquers being arrived at
the Palace, they dismounted and entered the hall, whither instantly
repaired the Prince, the Princess of Wales, and the Nobility their
attendants. They were saluted by the masquers, who, producing a pair
of Dice, showed their inclination of playing with the Prince. The
Dice were so artfully prepared that, whenever the Prince threw, he
was sure to win, and having thrown three Times, he won a Bowl, a Cup,
and a Ring, all of massy gold: after which the said masquers set the
Princess, the Duke of Lancaster, and all the other lords, each with a
gold ring which they likewise won: whereupon they were most sumptuously
entertained at supper: and, after having the honour of dancing with the
Prince and Nobility, they joyfully returned to the City.”
[2] Say = a kind of serge.
In 1371 the King granted a charter ordering that no strangers, _i.e._
none except freemen, should be allowed to sell by retail, within the
City and the suburbs. This privilege had always been resented by the
citizens, who were more in favour of free trade.
The reign of Edward III. is remarkable for the regulations of the
crafts and companies which were issued, and the formation of companies
under rules and by royal license. In Riley’s _Memorials_ we find
Charters, Articles, and Ordinances granted to the following long list,
between 1327 and 1377. The list is set down in chronological order:—
Pellipers, or Skinners, Girdlers, Hostlers and Haymongers, Tapicers,
Butchers, Bakers, Taverners, Vintners, Cutters, Brewers, Spurriers,
Whittawyers, Turners, Heaumers, Hatters, Pewterers, Glovers, Shearmen,
Furbishers, Braelers, Masons, Farriers, Wax Chandlers, Alien Weavers,
Tylers, Dyers, Plumbers, Tawyers, Flemish Weavers, Bowyers, Fletchers,
Pouch Makers, Blacksmiths, Leather Sellers, Poulterers, Cordwainers,
Barbers, Fullers, Hurers, and Cheesemongers. Some of the articles of
the new Companies will be dealt with in another place.
The Black Death of 1349-50 caused a dearth of labour which ran up wages
enormously.
Some attempt to fly in the face of the effect of demand upon supply
was made soon after the Pestilence by a Proclamation issued (24 Ed.
III. 1350) by order of the Mayor, Walter Turk, the Aldermen and the
Commonality in which wages were laid down “to be held and firmly
observed for ever.” This proclamation gave the craftsmen 6d. a day
in the summer months and 5½d. a day in the winter. Any employer
who paid more was fined 40s.:—any craftsman who took more was sent
to prison for 40 days. It seems strange that in a commercial and
industrial city it could be supposed possible to regulate wages and
prices “for ever,” or for a week. Like so many other mediæval laws and
ordinances there is no proof whatever of any obedience, while in the
trials that follow there is no case reported of disobedience. We may
assert without fear of contradiction that the proclamation fell dead,
and that the craftsmen continued to make the most of the situation.
The relations of Edward III. and the City, on the whole of a cordial
kind, are illustrated by some of the papers in Riley’s _Memorials_.
Thus, in November 1328, the King and the Queen being at Westminster,
the City resolved to send them a present, and these were the seasonable
gifts they sent:—
“To our Lord the King:—10 carcasses of beeves, price £7: 10s.; 20
pigs, price £4;—these being bought of Nicholas Derman: 24 swans, price
£6; 24 bitterns and herons, price £4: 4s.; and 10 dozens of capons,
price 50s.;—the same being bought of John Brid and John Scott: 5 stone
of wax, price £19: 19: 0-3/4; 4 barrels of sturgeon, price £12; 6 pike
and 6 eels, price 10 marks;—these being bought of Hugh Medefrei.
To our Lady the Queen:—5 carcasses of beeves, price 75s.; 12 pigs,
price 48s.;—these being bought of the said Nicholas Derman: 12
pheasants, price 48s.; 12 swans, price 60s.;—these being bought of the
said John Brid and John Scot:—3 stone of wax, price £11: 19: 5-1/4; 2
barrels of sturgeon, price £6; also, 3 pike and 3 eels, price 66s. 8d.
Sum total paid for the gift aforesaid, £95: 13: 6.”
Nine years later, at the meeting of Parliament, held in London,
the City voted a great number of gifts to the King, the Queen, the
Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishops of London and Durham and many
great Lords. To some, money was given, to others, silver plate, silk
cloths, gloves for holding the marks. Apparently, the gifts were
intended to buy their favour, for the City got a charter which secured
their liberties, although they had appeared in danger from the new
statutes about the Staple.
While mentioning these presents we may state that in the year 1363 we
find a dozen trades uniting to send a small present of money, amounting
in all to no more than £40, to the King. Four companies also present
King John of France, then a captive, with money amounting in all to
£24: 6: 8; and in the year 1371 a magnificent present of plate costing,
for the time, a vast sum of money, was given to the Black Prince on his
return from Gascony.
In 1357 the King, evidently from his own observation, called attention
to the lay stalls and filth allowed to accumulate on the banks of the
river, and gave orders that all should be cleaned up without delay.
In the same year he ordered the streets to be kept free of such
impediments. And, which shows a glimmering of sanitary science, he
orders that this refuse shall be put into carts and taken out of the
City, or into the dung boats which were probably intended to carry the
refuse down the river; but nothing was to be thrown into the river.
When one remembers the uses to which the Walbrook and the Fleet,
together with the banks of the Thames, had been put, it is easy to
understand that it was necessary to do something. At the same time, the
Thames is a broad river, and capable of cleansing itself from a good
deal of corruption.
In some cases of robbery or violence the King interfered himself. Thus
in 1359 the King ordered the Mayor to make Inquisition into a robbery
committed at the House of the Crutched Friars in Hart Street, Aldgate,
and to send him the result of his Inquisition. The case is curious,
one that implicated certain Brethren of the House. The things stolen
consisted of a chalice, two sets of vestments, many valuable books
and other goods, the whole valued at £87: 13: 4, _i.e._ over £1200 of
our money. The robbers were Robert de Stannowe, John de Dunmowe, and
Richard de Evesham, all Brethren of the Holy Cross. The witnesses, John
Bretoun and eleven others, swore that these three were all malefactors
and disturbers of the Peace of our Lord the King, and that they stole
these things and “committed other enormities.” What became of the
sacrilegious three is not known. Possibly the Bishop’s prison could
reveal the secret.
There is also a proclamation against sturdy vagrants who get alms
“which would otherwise go to many poor folk, such as lepers, blind,
halt, and persons oppressed with old age and divers other maladies.”
They are ordered to be put in the stocks and then to forswear the City
for ever. Nothing is as yet said about whipping vagrants through the
streets.
There is a proclamation against evening markets. Nothing was to be sold
after sunset because it is easy in the dark to pass off old things for
new.
Another scare of a French descent took place in 1370, when it was
reported that certain galleys were lying off the Foreland of Thanet. It
was ordered that a watch should be kept every night between the Tower
and Billingsgate, to consist of 40 men-at-arms and 60 archers. The
companies were to form the watch in the following order:—
Sunday. The Ironmongers, the Armourers, and the Cutlers.
Monday. The Tawyers, the Spurriers, the Bowyers, and the Girdlers.
Tuesday. The Drapers and the Tailors.
Wednesday. The Mercers and the Apothecaries.
Thursday. The Fishmongers and the Butchers.
Friday. The Pelterers and the Vintners.
Saturday. The Goldsmiths and the Saddlers.
The bad government of London at this time is illustrated by the decay
of archery. The recent victories in France had proved the immense
superiority of the archers to the mounted knights in battle: yet we
find the youth of London allowed to neglect a weapon which could only
be serviceable if its practice was encouraged and ordered. On this
subject we find that the King sent the following letter to the Sheriffs
of London in the year 1365:—
“The King to the Sheriffs of _London_, greeting.
Because the People of our Realm, as well of good Quality as mean,
have commonly in their Sports before these Times exercised the Skill
of shooting Arrows; whence it is well known, that Honour and Profit
have accrued to our whole Realm, and to us, by the Help of God, no
small Assistance in our warlike Acts; and now the said Skill being,
as it were, wholly laid aside, the same People please themselves in
hurling of Stones and Wood and Iron; and some in Hand-ball, Foot-ball,
Bandy-ball, and in Cambuck, or Cockfighting; and some also apply
themselves to other dishonest Games, and less Profitable or useful;
whereby the said Realm is likely, in a short time, to become destitute
of Archers:
We, willing to apply a seasonable Remedy to this, command you,
that in Places in the foresaid City, as well within the Liberties
as without, where you shall see it expedient, you cause publick
Proclamation to be made, that every one of the said City, strong in
Body, at leisure Times on Holidays, use in their Recreations Bows
and Arrows, or Pellets, or Bolts, and learn and exercise the Art of
Shooting; forbidding all and singular on our Behalf, that they do not
after any Manner apply themselves to the throwing of Stones, Wood,
Iron, Hand-ball, Foot-ball, Bandy-ball, Cambuck, or Cockfighting, nor
such other like vain Plays, which have no Profit in them, or concern
themselves therein, under Pain of Imprisonment. Witness the King at
Westminster, the twelfth Day of June.”
In the same year the City was visited by a company of Flagellants. They
were Dutch and a hundred and twenty in number. They marched through the
streets stripped to the waist, wearing hats with one red cross before
and one behind: in their hands they carried whips. They sang a Litany
as they walked, and then began to flagellate each other till the blood
ran down their bodies. This they are said to have done twice a day
either in the streets or in St. Paul’s.
In the disturbances and quarrels which marked the conclusion of the
third Edward’s reign and the commencement of Richard’s, it is difficult
to separate the part taken by London from the general history of the
country. It was a gloomy time for London as well as for the nation:
the conquests and the vast possessions acquired by Edward had been
lost more quickly than they were won. In 1372 the English fleet was
destroyed off Rochelle: in 1373 Poitiers was lost and the English
army destroyed: in 1374 Aquitaine was lost: our holding in France was
reduced to certain strong places, as Bordeaux and Calais: the King was
falling into dotage: the Black Prince was dying: not only the pride of
the country was humiliated, but her wealth was impoverished and her
trade diminished.
New ideas were rising up in all directions, precursors of the
Reformation. Wyclyf wanted a return to simpler external forms and the
lowering of the pride and wealth and power of the Church. Piers Plowman
spoke for the inarticulate: Chaucer shows the kindly and good-humoured
contempt of the well-to-do bourgeois for Friar and Monk: the commons
demanded the dismissal of the Clergy from Civil Service: a few years
later they petitioned the King (Henry IV.) to suppress all the monastic
Houses. And the most powerful noble in the land, John of Gaunt,
espoused the popular side and stood forth as the protector of Wyclyf
and of John of Northampton.
Unfortunately John of Gaunt meddled with trade. Probably in ignorance
of what he was doing he placed himself in the hands of a merchant named
Richard Lyons in whom he seems to have had great confidence. Lyons was
clearly the predecessor of many who have followed him in the endeavour
to make fortune by short cuts; he got from John permission to ship his
wool without taking it first to the Staple, thus avoiding the tax; he
got himself made farmer of customs at Calais and levied higher duties
than those imposed by Parliament; he bought up the King’s debts at a
large reduction and made the Council pay him in full; he made corners,
obtained and sold monopolies.
In 1376, the year before the old King’s death, the Good Parliament sat.
Their speaker, Peter de la Mare, in the name of the Commons refused
all supplies so long as the Duke of Lancaster, Lord Latimer, and Sir
Richard Sturrie remained counsellors to the King, and so long as Alice
Perrers remained the King’s concubine. The charge was allowed. Then the
Parliament considered certain abuses in the City. First, they impeached
Richard Lyons, “of divers deceits, Extortions, and other Misdemeanours,
as well at the Time when he repaired to certain of the King’s Council,
as when he was Farmer of the Subsidies and Customs; and especially for
his obtaining Licences for the Exportation of large Faizons of Wool
and staple Ware; for procuring new Impositions upon staple Ware; for
devising the Change of Money; for making the King, for one Chevizance
of twenty Marks, to pay thirty Pounds; for buying Debts of divers Men
due by the King for small Values; for taking Bribes by way of Brokage
for paying the King’s just Debts. All which, it seems, he was guilty
of, by tampering with the Council.
To some Part of which Articles Richard answered, and to the rest
submitted himself to the King’s mercy; Whereupon he was committed to
Prison, and his Estate, both real and personal, confiscated, and for
which Crimes he was also disfranchised.
John Peach of London was soon after impeached for procuring a Licence
under the Great Seal, for the sole Privilege of selling sweet wine in
London; it was said that by colour of this Grant, he took of every
Vintner four shillings and fourpence for every tun he sold. The which
he justified, as lawfully he might; yet nevertheless he was adjudged to
prison, and to make Restitution to all Persons aggrieved. Whereupon the
Grant was reversed, and the Citizens restored to their ancient Right of
selling such Wine, under the Restriction of having the Price thereof
always regulated by the Mayor.” (Maitland, vol. i. p. 134.)
The Parliament, however, came to an end. John of Gaunt returned to
power; Richard Lyons and John Peach were let out of prison; the late
Speaker, Peter de la Mare, was committed to Nottingham Castle; Alice
Perrers went back to the King.
[Illustration: JOHN WYCLYF (d. 1384)
From MS. Harl. 4866.]
It does not belong to this history to attempt an estimate of the
character and the political career of John of Gaunt. Yet it may be
mentioned that he was regarded with the deepest jealousy and was
suspected of designs upon the Crown; for it was considered it might
be easy for him to supplant the young prince Richard. Yet he was
undoubtedly the greatest and most powerful noble in the land. Moreover,
in matters of religion he took the side of Reform, especially as
regards the wealth and power of the higher clergy. In this respect
he undoubtedly had with him the general opinion of the City, both of
the better sort—Whittington, among others, was reputed to lean in
that direction—and of the craftsmen, among whom the Friars and their
teaching had great influence. Unfortunately he offended the City beyond
all power of forgiveness by proposing to abolish the Mayoralty and to
encroach further upon their liberties. And then came the famous trial
of Wyclyf in St. Paul’s Cathedral. Wyclyf was summoned to appear at St.
Paul’s before the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London to
answer certain charges as to opinions.
He obeyed, but there came with him his protector, John of Gaunt, and
the Earl Marshal, with, one doubts not, a sufficient following to
protect their persons. The Cathedral was filled with people drawn
together by the desire to see and to hear this fearless champion of
Reform. It was with difficulty that the party could work their way
through to the place of hearing, which was the Lady Chapel. The Earl
Marshal exercised his authority, perhaps loudly, to keep the people
back. The Bishop of London, indignant at the exercise of any authority
but his own in his own Cathedral, declared that had he known how Lord
Percy would act he would have forbidden him admission. The Duke of
Lancaster with equal heat assured the Bishop that the Lord Marshal
would maintain order, despite him. When they reached the Lady Chapel,
the Earl Marshal demanded a seat for Wyclyf. The Bishop refused. Then
angry words passed and recriminations; it was rumoured that John of
Gaunt threatened to drag the Bishop out of the Church by the hair
of his head. The quarrel grew to a tumult; the Court was dissolved;
Wyclyf, who had said nothing, withdrew, and the Duke with his party
left the Church and rode to the house of one John de Ypres.
There was rancour against the Duke of Lancaster for other reasons,
apart from this insult to the Bishop. It was rumoured that he had the
design of abolishing the Mayor and of appointing a Custos in his place;
and that he held that the Marshal of England should have the right of
arresting criminals in London as well as in other parts of the kingdom.
The quarrel at St. Paul’s was only the last drop in the cup. That
strange wildfire which seizes mobs, beginning one knows not where, and
spreading one knows not how, flamed up in the London streets. The mob
would have the Duke’s life. He, who was at the house of John de Ypres
in the City, and at dinner, was startled by one of his knights who
came to warn him. There was no time to be lost; he rose from table and
hastening down to the nearest stairs took boat across the river and
went to the Palace at Kennington. When the mob found that he was gone
they came to his Palace of the Savoy, where they murdered a priest, and
would have wrecked the palace but for the intervention of the Bishop of
London.
The Mayor and Aldermen obtained an interview with the King and
expressed their sorrow at what had happened: they said it was the
act of a few lawless men, who should be found and punished, and
therewith the Duke seemed satisfied. But the insults of the populace
continued; they hung up his shield reversed to show that he was a
traitor; they posted libels and insults upon him until he demanded the
excommunication of the City. The Bishop of London refused; whereupon
the Bishop of Bangor pronounced the excommunication. Had, then, one
Bishop the right of excommunicating the people in the diocese of
another Bishop? The Mayor, Adam Staple, was removed, and Nicolas
Brembre was elected. Certainly it seems as if Adam Staple had shown
his own weakness in not maintaining order. Lastly, the City tried
to appease the Duke by offering a wax taper bearing his arms in St.
Paul’s. Just then the old King died.
CHAPTER VIII
RICHARD II
[Illustration: RICHARD II. (1367-1399)
From a painting in Westminster Abbey. Artist unknown.]
No one who considers the life and reign of Richard II. can fail to
observe, and in some measure to understand, the very remarkable
personal affection which he inspired in the people, especially the
people of London, whose loyalty he rewarded so shamefully. His singular
beauty, his kingliness, his charm of manner, the splendour and luxury
of his court, his love of art and music, his personal bearing, all
these things dazzled and fascinated the populace. Never was there a
more gallant prince to look upon. That he was proud, almost as proud
as Henry III., proud to a degree which is in these days absolutely
unintelligible; that he was wasteful and prodigal; that he was led
by unworthy favourites almost as much as his great-grandfather; that
he was revengeful; that he always wanted money and cared nothing
about charters, rights, and liberties, upon all of which he trampled
without scruple in order to get money,—these things the people of
London were going to find out to their cost. Meantime they loved the
lovely boy, the son of the Black Prince. To begin with, the nobles
called Richard the Londoners’ King. We shall see that the City endured
blow after blow, before they finally abandoned him. Mostly, I think,
the City regarded Richard with gratitude and affection for that deed
of desperate daring when he faced the mob, himself a mere boy, and
persuaded them to go home. Every citizen who remembered those few
terrible days when the wildest mob ever seen in London streets held
possession of the City, and when they remembered what the better sort
had to endure, robbery, fire, and murder, looked on that act as the
salvation of himself as well as of the City. The alienation of the City
which followed was due solely to the King’s long-continued exactions
and his arbitrary disregard of Charters.
The new reign—Richard was only eleven—began happily for London by
a reconciliation of the City with the Duke of Lancaster. At the
Coronation Banquet the Mayor and Citizens claimed their right to assist
the chief butler, but were refused by Robert Belknap, Chief-Justice
of the Common Pleas, who told them that they might come and wash up
the pots and pans if they pleased. The citizens therefore set up an
effigy of Belknap on one of the arches erected in Cheapside for the
procession. The figure was made to vomit wine continuously. This is
an early example of caricature in things political. Robert Belknap
withdrew his opposition; the effigy was removed, and the Mayor and
Aldermen played their accustomed part in the Coronation Banquet. It
is noted by Sharpe (_London and the Kingdom_, p. 213) that the King’s
Butler in ordinary could claim the post of City Coroner.
The City granted the Council an advance of £5000 on the security of
the Customs. When Parliament met, it granted a tallage of two-tenths
and two-fifteenths, and named two citizens, Walworth and Philpot, to
act as treasurers. At this time, nearly the worst in our annals, the
French were harrying the south coast almost unopposed; the Scottish
army was on the borders; and a Scottish fleet was in the North Sea
making descents upon the ports and seaboard towns. The Abbot of Battle
drove off the French, and it was left to a private merchant of London
to destroy the Scottish fleet.
This fleet was commanded by a man named Mercer who was called a
pirate. Like his countrymen on the Border he probably called his own
proceedings lawful acts of war. Sir John Philpot, hearing that this sea
captain, or pirate, Mercer was plundering English towns and picking
up English ships, fitted out at his own private expense a fleet of
ships manned with a thousand men well armed, went on board himself as
Admiral or Commander, sailed north, met Mercer’s fleet off Scarborough,
valiantly attacked it, and killed him and took all his ships; then,
with these and fifteen Spanish vessels, deeply laden, which had been
captured by Mercer, he returned to London. The Council sent for him
and asked him to explain his presumption in going to war on his own
account. But the citizens showed their approval of his work by electing
him Mayor in the following year.
The late King having died while the petition of the City for a
confirmation of their liberties was impending, they renewed it on the
accession of Richard. The House of Commons also prayed the King that
the City might continue to enjoy all the Franchises and usages granted
by his Progenitors. This was answered by a Charter of Confirmation as
follows:—
“Whereas the said Citizens, by their Petition exhibited to us in
Parliament, did set forth that although they, for a long time past,
have used and enjoyed certain free Customs, until of late Years they
have been unjustly molested; which Customs are as followeth, viz.,
That no Foreigner do buy or sell of another Foreigner any Merchandises
within the Liberties of the said City, upon Pain of forfeiting the
same. Nevertheless, being desirous, for the future, to take away
all Controversies about the same, We do by these presents, with the
Assent aforesaid, will and grant, and by these Presents, for us and
our heirs, do confirm unto the said Citizens, and their Successors,
that, for the future, no Foreigner sell to another Foreigner any
Merchandises within the Liberties of the said City: nor that any
Foreigner do buy of another Foreigner any Merchandise, upon pain of
forfeiting the same; the Privileges of our Subjects of Aquitaine in
all Things excepted, so that such buying and selling be made betwixt
Merchant and Merchant.”
The City was still at this time torn by internal dissensions. The party
headed by John of Northampton, representing the popular cause of the
craft guilds, was always striving after more power and always meeting
with the most determined resistance; it is also certain that a new and
very important spirit had been introduced into the City, which was
teaching new ideas concerning personal holiness, the riches of priest
and monk, the true teaching of Christ as set forth in the Gospels,
and spread abroad by Wyclyf’s preachers. The other side, headed by
Philpot and Brembre, represented the old aristocratic party with the
great guilds of distribution, import and export. The Duke of Lancaster,
for reasons of his own, gave his support to John of Northampton and
the popular party. In this he was joined by his brother Thomas of
Woodstock, Earl of Buckingham, who three times accused Brembre before
the Parliament: first of connivance in a riotous attack upon his house,
and next of treason. The Earl showed his resentment still further by
withdrawing from the City with all his following and all his friends.
He must have had a great many friends, because the blow to trade was so
sorely felt that the richer merchants subscribed and bribed him to come
back again. The history of the City factions will be found in another
place.
In 1379 a poll tax was imposed. Every man had to pay according to his
rank and station. The Mayor of London was assessed as an Earl and
paid £4. The Aldermen, assessed as barons, paid £2 each. The lowest
workmen had to pay a groat—fourpence. The poll tax of the City amounted
to no more than £700. It is estimated that there was a population of
about 46,000. But the expenses of collection are not included. In the
taxation of the whole population, man, woman, and child, there must
have been a great number of clerks and collectors. Perhaps 25 per cent
was spent in the work. That would give us a population of 56,000. Next
year the poll tax was again imposed; but this time the smallest sum
to be paid was three groats, and that by every man, woman, and child
over the age of fifteen. What would this tax mean at the present day?
It would mean that every working man would have to pay half-a-crown
for himself, half-a-crown for his wife, and half-a-crown for every one
in his house over fifteen years of age, say four half-crowns, or ten
shillings in all. How long would a Government last which should impose
such a tax? The tax produced in London alone no more than £1000. It
was a fatal impost for the country, for it proved the cause of the
rebellion, the most formidable rising of the peasantry which this
country ever had to encounter, that named after Wat Tyler. The history
of this insurrection belongs to the history of England rather than that
of London, but the later and more dramatic part of it took place in the
City. Perhaps I cannot do better than transcribe the short and graphic
contemporary account given in Riley’s _Memorials_ (p. 449):—
“Among the most wondrous and hitherto unheard-of prodigies that have
ever happened in the City of London, that which took place there on the
Feast of Corpus Christi, the 13th day of June, in the 4th year of the
reign of King Richard the Second, seems deserving to be committed to
writing, that it may be not unknown to those to come.
For on that day, while the King was holding his Council in the Tower of
London, countless companies of the commoners and persons of the lowest
grade from Kent and Essex suddenly approached the said City, the one
body coming to the town of Southwark, and the other to the place called
‘Mileende,’ without Algate. By the aid also of perfidious commoners
within the City, of their own condition, who rose in countless numbers
there, they suddenly entered the City together, and, passing straight
through it, went to the mansion of Sir John, Duke of Lancaster, called
‘Le Savoye,’ and completely levelled the same with the ground, and
burned it. From thence they turned to the Church of the Hospital of St.
John of Jerusalem, without Smethfeld, and burnt and levelled nearly all
the houses there, the Church excepted.
On the next morning, all the men from Kent and Essex met at the said
place called ‘Mileende,’ together with some of the perfidious persons
of the City aforesaid; whose numbers in all were past reckoning.
And there the King came to them from the Tower, accompanied by many
knights and esquires, and citizens on horseback, the lady his mother
following him also in a chariot. Where, at the prayer of the infuriated
rout, our Lord the King granted that they might take those who were
traitors against him, and slay them, wheresoever they might be found.
And from thence the King rode to his Wardrobe, which is situated near
to Castle Baynard; while the whole of the infuriated rout took its way
towards the Tower of London; entering which by force, they dragged
forth from it Sir Simon, Archbishop of Canterbury, Chancellor of our
Lord the King, and Brother Robert Hales, Prior of the said Hospital of
St. John of Jerusalem, the King’s Treasurer; and, together with them,
Brother William Appletone, of the Order of Friars Minors, and John Leg,
Serjeant-at-arms to the King, and also, one Richard Somenour, of the
Parish of Stebenhuthe; all of whom they beheaded in the place called
‘Tourhille,’ without the said Tower; and then carrying their heads
through the City upon lances, they set them up on London Bridge, fixing
them there on stakes.
Upon the same day there was also no little slaughter within the City,
as well of natives as of aliens. Richard Lions, citizen and vintner of
the said City, and many others, were beheaded in Chepe. In the Vintry
also, there was a very great massacre of Flemings, and in one heap
there were lying about forty headless bodies of persons who had been
dragged forth from the churches and their houses; and hardly was there
a street in the City in which there were not bodies lying of those who
had been slain. Some of the houses also in the said City were pulled
down, and others in the suburbs destroyed, and some too, burnt.
Such tribulation as this, greater and more horrible than could be
believed by those who had not seen it, lasted down to the hour of
Vespers on the following day, which was Saturday, the 15th of June;
on which day God sent remedy for the same, and His own gracious aid,
by the hand of the most renowned man, Sir William Walworthe, the then
Mayor; who in Smethefelde, in presence of our Lord the King and those
standing by him, lords, knights, esquires, and citizens on horseback,
on the one side, and the whole of this infuriated rout on the other,
most manfully, by himself, rushed upon the captain of the said
multitude, ‘Walter Tylere’ by name, and, as he was altercating with the
King and the nobles, first wounded him in the neck with his sword, and
then hurled him from his horse, mortally pierced in the breast; and
further, by favour of the divine grace, so defended himself from those
who had come with him, both on foot and horseback, that he departed
from thence unhurt, and rode on with our Lord the King and his people,
towards a field near to the spring that is called ‘Whittewellebeche’;
in which place, while the whole of the infuriated multitude in warlike
manner was making ready against our Lord the King and his people,
refusing to treat of peace except on condition that they should first
have the head of the said Mayor, the Mayor himself, who had gone into
the City at the instance of our Lord the King, in the space of half an
hour sent and led forth therefrom so great a force of citizen warriors
in aid of his Lord the King, that the whole multitude of madmen was
surrounded and hemmed in; and not one of them would have escaped, if
our Lord the King had not commanded them to be gone.
[Illustration: KING RICHARD II. AND HIS COUNCIL GO DOWN THE THAMES IN A
BARGE TO CONFER WITH THE REBELS
From Froissart’s _Chronicles_.]
Therefore our Lord the King returned into the City of London with the
greatest of glory and honour, and the whole of this profane multitude
in confusion fled forthwith for concealment in their affright.
For this same deed our Lord the King, beneath his standard, in the said
field with his own hands decorated with the order of knighthood the
said Mayor, and Sir Nicholas Brembre, and Sir John Phelipot, who had
already been Mayors of the said City; as also Sir Robert Launde.”
“Jack Straw” before his execution made a full confession. It has been
doubted whether this confession is genuine, but it seems possible and
even probable. They promised to have masses said for his soul (which
assured him that it was purgatory to which he would be sent) and on
this promise he declared that they had intended to seize the King, to
carry him about in order to reassure the people, and in the end to kill
him and all who were set in authority. They were going to spare the
mendicant friars alone. And they were going to set up separate kingdoms
all over the country.
The doctrines of Wyclyf’s preachers and “simple priests” certainly made
this rebellion possible: they filled the minds of the rustics with new
ideas of equality and right; they made them question authority; they
made it possible for them to unite. As regards London, on inquiry after
the rebellion, it was proved that two hundred persons had left the City
in consequence, which does not seem to show that Lollardy was advanced
by the rebels, or that there was any sympathy extended to them from
the Lollards of the City. Now London at this time, Walsingham says,
was full of Lollards—they were all Lollards. A little later than this
even Whittington was accused of being _male credulus_. As regards the
word Lollard its true meaning has been ascertained by Professor Skeat
(_Piers the Plowman_, Early Eng. Text Soc., vol. iv. p. 86). There was
a sect in Brabant before Wyclyf was born who were called Lollards....
“Sive Deum laudantes,” says one writer. “Mussitatores,” _i.e._ mumblers
of prayers, says another. The name of Lollard, a term of reproach in
Brabant, was borrowed from that country and applied to the followers
of Wyclyf in order to render them unpopular. The word _lollere_ or
_loller_—one who lolls, an indolent person—had nothing to do with
the word Lollard: nor with the Latin _lolium_, tares, which was also
pressed into the service in order to make the new opinions unpopular.
After the murder of Archbishop Sudbury, William Courtenay became
Archbishop of Canterbury: he was a man of high birth, a scholar,
one of a temper which would not bear opposition, and one who held
the strongest views as to authority and the power of the Church. He
naturally saw in the late dangerous rising of the people a blow against
authority, which he also ascribed, quite reasonably, to the teaching
and the influence of Wyclyf. The doctrines of the rebel leaders were,
however, an exaggeration and perversion of those taught by Wyclyf. And
we must remember that Jack Straw looked forward to a time when the
Franciscans should inherit the whole earth, an aspiration certainly
not shared by Wyclyf. Twice had Wyclyf been summoned to appear before
an ecclesiastical court. Courtenay called a Court and again summoned
Wyclyf to appear. He was probably prevented by a stroke of paralysis,
for he did not come. The Court was held in his absence in the Great
Hall of the Black Friars. There were assembled (see Milman’s _Latin
Christianity_, v. 509) eight Bishops, fourteen Doctors in Civil and
Canon Law, six Bachelors of Divinity, four monks, fifteen Mendicant
Friars, not one being a Franciscan, which is significant. Twenty-four
articles were gathered out of the writings of Wyclyf, all to be
condemned. In order to give these scenes great solemnity, a procession
of clergy and laity walked barefoot to St. Paul’s to hear a sermon on
the subject. (See Appendix I.).
[Illustration:
_Etch^d. By. J Harris_
WAT TYLER FOR HIS INSOLENCE IS KILLED BY WALWORTH, AND KING RICHARD
PUTS HIMSELF AT THE HEAD OF THE REBELS
From Froissart’s _Chronicles_.]
There is the significant fact that in 1393 the Archbishop of York and
the Bishop of London complained formally to the King of the Mayor,
Aldermen, and Sheriffs—Whittington being then one of the Sheriffs—as
_male creduli_, upholders of Lollards, detractors of religious persons,
detainers of tithes, and defrauders of the poor. Richard II.’s “Good
Queen Anne” was a Wyclyfite. She read the Gospels for herself in
English, in Bohemian, and in Latin. Nobles and knights, among them
Sir John Oldcastle, sometimes called Lord Cobham, and the Earl of
Salisbury, were avowed Wyclyfites. Even among the monks themselves
there were Lollards. Peter Patishull, an Augustinian monk, and
actually one of the Pope’s chaplains, preached plain Wyclyfism at St.
Christopher’s Church, close to the monastery of St. Augustine. And he
affixed a written document to the doors of St. Paul’s, stating that
“he had escaped from the companionship of the worst of men”—meaning
his brethren of St. Augustine’s—“to the most perfect and holy life of
the Lollards.” And again there is that most remarkable Petition of the
London Lollards to Parliament. Remember that these words were written a
hundred and fifty years before the Dissolution of the Religious Houses.
They were the opinions of the common people put into articulate speech
by such men as Peter Patishull. The document is, as Dean Milman says,
“vehemently anti-papal, anti-Roman.”
“Since the Church of England, fatally following that of Rome, has been
endowed with temporalities, Faith, Hope, and Charity have deserted
her communion. Their Priesthood is no Priesthood: men in mortal sin
cannot convey the Holy Ghost. The clergy profess celibacy but from
their pampered living are unable to practise it. The pretended miracle
of Transubstantiation leads to idolatry. Exorcism or Benedictions
are vain, delusive, and diabolical. The realm cannot prosper so long
as spiritual persons hold secular offices. One who unites these two
is a hermaphrodite. All chantries of prayer for the dead should be
suppressed: one hundred religious houses would be enough for the
spiritual wants of the realm. Pilgrimages, the worshipping of the
Cross or images, or reliques, is idolatry. Auricular confession,
indulgences, are mischievous or a mockery. Capital punishments are to
be abolished as contrary to the New Testament. Convents of females
are defiled by licentiousness and the worst crimes. All trades which
minister to pride or luxury, especially goldsmiths and sword cutlers,
are unlawful.” (_Latin Christianity._)
London was placarded with these manifestoes, half wise, half foolish.
The Archbishop of York and the Bishop of London hastily summoned
Richard from Ireland by information that an outbreak of Lollards was at
hand. Probably fear and hatred exaggerated the danger. Then came the
deposition of Richard, the accession of Henry and his declaration that
he would support the Church. For a time the Lollards were quiet.
Returning to City history it was perhaps in the hope of increasing
the popularity of the King that Brembre in 1383 issued a proclamation
“concerning the liberties lately granted to the Citizens of London by
the Lord King in his Parliament.”
The substance of the Charter is given in the _Liber Albus_. It was
obtained partly by the good offices of the Queen, and partly by an
advance, loan, or gift of 4000 marks.
[Illustration: KING RICHARD II. IN GREAT DANGER IN THE CITY OF LONDON
From Froissart’s _Chronicles_.]
In the year 1392 the King, wanting money as usual, ordered every
London citizen who possessed an estate worth £40 at least to take up
the honour of knighthood for which heavy fees would have to be paid.
The Sheriffs reported, however, that all tenements and rents in
the City were “held of the King _in capite_ as for burgage at a fee
farm (_ad feodi firmam_); that the tenements were constantly in need
of repair, and that it was impossible to make such a return as the
King desired. The King had to withdraw the order. But he had a new
quarrel with the City: he offered some jewels as security for a loan;
the citizens said they were too poor to advance the money; therefore
the King sent to a certain Lombard who promised to find the money; in
order to get it, he himself borrowed of the citizens. Another version
of the story is that the citizens learning that this Lombard, one of
the Pope’s licensed usurers, had advanced the money, fell upon him and
beat him grievously. If this story is true the reasons were probably
the general ill feeling towards foreigners always existing in the City,
and next, a special rage that this man should have become so rich.
Richard heard of this; for the moment he said nothing, for he was in
some respects a most self-restrained prince, though at all times most
revengeful. Moreover, he had another quarrel with the City on account
of the side they took in the late troubles. His chance came. It began
with a loaf of bread snatched from a baker’s tray by a servant of the
Bishop of Salisbury, named Roman, in Fleet Street. The baker, as the
tale is told, naturally resented the robbery and tried to recover his
loaf: in the scuffle he was wounded by the said Roman—probably they had
both drawn their knives. A crowd collected; Roman’s fellow-servants
rescued him, dragged him into the house and refused to give him up.
The crowding people round the gates bawled that they would set fire to
the place in order to get the man out. The Mayor and Sheriffs hurried
to the spot and with some difficulty persuaded the people to go home,
before violence was done. Here the affair, really a trifle, should have
ended. But the Bishop of Salisbury, who is said to have desired an
opportunity to do the City a bad turn, hurried to the King and asked if
the Londoners were to be allowed with impunity to insult the Church and
defy the State.” “Certainly not,” said Richard; “if necessary I will
raze the City to the ground.” He ordered the Mayor, the Sheriffs, the
Aldermen, and four-and-twenty principal men of the City to attend him
to Nottingham there to answer for these grievous disorders.
It was very soon discovered that the King meant mischief. The citizens
threw themselves upon his mercy as the shortest and perhaps the
cheapest way out of the quarrel. He committed the Mayor to prison at
Windsor, and the Sheriffs to Odysham and Wallingford. He then appointed
a commission under the Great Seal—his uncles the Dukes of York and
Gloucester being the Commissioners—to inquire into the misgovernment of
the City. The prisoners had to pay a fine of 1000 marks for the first
offence, whatever that was, of which they were convicted; 2000 marks
for the second; and in the third the Liberties of the City were seized
by the King, contrary to the Charters. The Mayor was degraded, the
Sheriffs and Aldermen deposed and others appointed in their place, and
a Custos was given to the City—Sir Edward Dalyngrigge. Richard then
summoned the Aldermen to Windsor and imposed a fine of £100,000 upon
the City. But it does not appear that he meant it to be paid, for in
the following month he announced his intention of riding through the
City. Then the citizens humbled themselves and made a very expensive
effort to win back the King’s favour. They prepared a most magnificent
reception for him. First, at St. George’s Church, Southwark, he was met
by the Bishop of London, all the clergy, and five hundred choristers in
surplices: at London Bridge he was presented with a splendid charger
richly clad in cloth of gold, and to the Queen was given a stately
white pad with rich furniture: the streets through which he passed were
lined with the City Companies in order: the conduits ran wine: and
the people shouted. At the Standard in Cheapside stood a boy in white
raiment, representing an angel, who presented the King a crown of gold
and the Queen with another: he also offered wine from a golden cup.
Then the Mayor and the City Fathers rode with the King to Westminster.
The next day, to complete this show of loyalty, they sent the King two
silver gilt basins in each of which lay a thousand nobles of gold: and
a picture of the Trinity said to have been valued at eight hundred
pounds—one cannot believe there was then any picture in the world
valued at so much. The King remitted the fine of £100,000 and restored
the Charters.
The citizens on receiving back their Charters proceeded to institute
certain reforms. They resolved that their Aldermen should be elected
for life, and not year by year: a measure which diminished the factious
quarrels over the elections. They also divided the Ward of Farringdon
into two.
In the year 1394 the Queen Anne of Bohemia died. She had the reputation
of being a good friend to the City. In the Latin poem of “Richard of
Maidstone” (Camden Society, _Deposition of Richard the Second_), the
Queen is represented as pleading with the King for the City:—
Ingreditur Regina suis comitata puellis,
Pronaque regales corruit ante pedes.
Erigitur, mandante viro, “Quid,” ait, “petis Anna,
Exprime, de votis expediere tuis.”
_Supplicatio Reginae pro eisdem civibus._
“Dulcis,” ait, “mi Rex, mihi vir, mihi vis, mihi vita,
Dulcis amor, sine quo vivere fit mihi mors.
Regibus in cunctis similem quis possidet urbem?
Quae velut haec hodie magnificaret eum?
Et rogo constanter per eum quem fertis amorem
Ad me, condignum si quid amore gero,
Parcere dignemini plebibus, qui tanta dedere
Munera tam prompte nobis ad obsequia.
Et placeat veteri nunc urbem reddere juri,
Ac libertates restituisse suas.”
Two years later the King went through the form of marriage with the
French princess Isabel who was brought over at the age of eight. The
Mayor and Aldermen went out to meet the “little Queen” at Blackheath,
and escorted her to Kennington Palace, and the next day from that
Palace to the Tower, the roads and streets being crowded with an
innumerable throng.
The extravagance of the King had now become an intolerable burden to
the country, especially to London. He is said to have maintained 10,000
persons at his Court. There were 300 employed in the kitchen alone.
There was never any prince who clad himself more gorgeously: one cloak
he had made of gold and silver cloth studded with jewels which cost
him £2000, or about £40,000 of our money. He seems to have been unable
to understand the meaning of money or the relation between things he
desired, and the taxable wealth of the country. His last method of
extortion was to issue blank charters which the merchants were to sign
and he was to fill up at his pleasure. This proved too much for the
long-suffering City. John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, had recently
died; so they sent for his son Henry, Duke of Lancaster.
[Illustration: HENRY OF LANCASTER BRINGS KING RICHARD BACK TO LONDON
From MS. in British Museum. Harl. 1319.]
The rest is history; Henry came, was received with acclamations by
the City, a company of 1200 Londoners, fully armed, was raised for
him; he marched out with them and with others and seized the King
whom he brought back to London with him. The rabble wanted to murder
their former idol on the way. The Recorder with a great number of
Knights and Esquires went out to meet Lancaster and his captive. In
the name of the City this functionary begged Henry to behead the King.
Perhaps, however, the story is not true. Holinshed simply speaks of the
immense joy of the people, and says that “many evil-disposed persons,
assembling themselves together in great numbers, intended to have met
with him and to have taken him from such as had the conveying of him,
that they might have slain him.”
[Illustration: HOW RICHARD II. RESIGNED THE CROWN TO THE DUKE OF
LANCASTER
From Froissart’s _Chronicles_.]
In the Parliament which was called on the arrival of the King at the
Tower, thirty-three articles were drawn up showing that he was worthy
of deposition. These articles were read at the Guildhall. The King,
brought to Westminster, read publicly the renunciation of his Crown.
CHAPTER IX
HENRY IV
We have now to consider a rare event in the history of London—the
accession of a sovereign who honestly maintained friendly relations
with the City of London and respected its liberties. The note of
conciliation was struck at the Coronation Banquet, at which the Mayor
and Aldermen claimed and were assigned places of honour and their
right of assisting the Chief Butler. Let us assist at one of the many
mediæval banquets—we can do so by the help of Fabyan:—
[Illustration: HENRY IV (1367-1413)
From portrait in the possession of the Earl of Essex.]
“Upon Monday, beyng the day of seynt Edwarde and the xiii day of
October, the King was crowned at Westmynster of the archebysshop of
Canterbury: after which solempnyte fynysshed, an honourable feest was
holden within the great halle of Westmynster, where the kynge beynge
set in the mydde see of the table the Archebysshop of Canterbury with
iii other prelates were set at the same table upon the right hande of
the kynge, and the archebysshop of Yorke with other iiii prelatys was
sette upon that other hande of the kynge, and Henry the kynges eldest
sone stoode upon the right hande with a poyntlesse swerde holdynge up
right and the erle of Northumberlande, newely made constable, stode
upon the lefte hande with a sharpe swerde holden up right, and by
eyther of those swerdys stode ii other lordys holding ii cepters. And
before the kynge stode all the dyner whyle the dukys of Amorarle,
of Surrey, and of Exetyr, with other ii lordys. And the erle of
Westmerlande, that newely made marshall, rode about the halle with
many typped staves about hym, to see the roume of the halle kept, that
offycers myght with ease serue the tables. Of the whyche tables the
chief upon the ryght syde of the halle was begunne with the barons of
the v portys, and at the table next the cupborde upon the lefte hande,
sate the mayer and his bretherne the aldermen of London, which mayer
that tyme beynge Drewe Barentyne, goldsmyth, for servyce there by hym
that daye done, as other mayers at every kyngs and quenys coronacion
use for to do, had there a standynge cuppe of gold. Then after the
seconde course was servyd, Syr Thomas Dymmoke, knyght, benyng armed
at all peacis, and syttynge upon a good stede, rode to the hygher
parte of the halle and there before the kyng caused an herowde to
make proclamacyon, that what man wolde saye that Kynge Henry was
not rightfull enherytoure of the crowne of Englonde, and rightfully
crownyd, he was there redy to wage with him batayll then, or sych tyme
as it shuld please the kynge to assynge. Whiche proclamacion he causyd
to be made after in iii sundry places of the halle in Englysshe and in
Frenshe, with many more observauncies at his solempnytie exercysyd and
done whiche were longe to reherse.”
The reign began with the very remarkable conspiracy formed by the
Abbot of Westminster, and the Lords of Albemarle, Surrey, Exeter, and
Salisbury and Gloucester. This rebellion was speedily put down with
the help of the Londoners, and the chiefs of the rebellion were all
beheaded. The Abbot of Westminster was struck by paralysis. It was
probably in consequence of this rebellion, and the knowledge that there
would be more risings as long as Richard lived, that he was murdered at
Pontefract. But his death did not put a stop to conspiracies.
Early in the second year of Henry there were more executions for
treason, viz. Sir Roger Claryngton, two of his servants, and eight
Franciscan friars. London Bridge and the City Gates were decorated with
the heads of the traitors. In the year 1404 one of the murderers of the
late Duke of Gloucester at Calais was arrested and brought to London,
where he was tried, found guilty and drawn all the way to Tyburn, to be
hanged and quartered. The next year the Archbishop of York and Lord
Mowbray rebelled, were defeated, and taken. As a new thing in the land
the Archbishop was beheaded as well as the noble. The general horror
aroused by this execution of a Prelate is shown by the story that grew
up. “The Archbishop,” it was said, “in worship of Christ’s five wounds,
entreated the executioner to strike him five times. At each stroke the
King sitting in his lodging felt that stroke exactly as if some person
were striking him. And shortly after he was stricken with leprosy, so
that he recognised the hand of God. And soon after God shewyd many
miracles for the sayde Bishop, which called the Kynge into the more
repentance.”
In 1407 there was an ordeal by battle held at Smithfield between “one
named the Welsh Clerk” and a knight, Sir Percyval Sowdan. The latter
was accused by the clerk of treason. They fought for a “season,” but
the clerk proved recreant: therefore they took off his armour; laid him
on a hurdle and so to Tyburn, where he met the usual death. In the same
year London Bridge received the heads of the Earl of Northumberland and
Lord Bardolf. And after these examples the land for a brief season had
rest from rebellions.
Returning to the relations of the City and the King. Henry granted a
Charter the provisions of which are enumerated in the _Liber Albus_.
They confirm the fullest liberties, and privileges are granted to
the City. He also repealed the Act (27 Ed. III.) by which the Mayor,
Aldermen, and Sheriffs were liable to be tried by a foreign inquest
taken from the counties of Kent, Sussex, Essex, Hertfordshire, Bucks,
and Berks, together with the penalties and forfeitures belonging to
the Act; he gave the London merchants the same liberty of packing
their cloths as was enjoyed by the foreigners; and he won the favour
of the commonalty by allowing all fishermen foreign or not, provided
they belonged to countries at amity with the King, to sell fish in
the London market. The first appearance of Free Trade, it will be
seen, is intended to cheapen provisions. The City was able to show its
readiness to support the King in the business of the conspiracy above
mentioned. When Henry went to meet the rebels it was with an army of
twenty thousand men, among whom was a strong contingent of six thousand
Londoners. They were rewarded by a Charter giving them, with the
custody of the City, all the Gates and Fortresses, the collection of
the Tolls and Customs in Cheap, Billingsgate, and Smithfield, and also
the Tronage or weighing of lead, wax, pepper, alum, madder, etc.
[Illustration: FUNERAL-PROCESSION OF RICHARD II.
From Froissart’s _Chronicles_.]
Whether honestly or not, there were many who professed to believe that
the late King Richard was still living, and one William Serle was
active in spreading abroad this persuasion. Yet Henry had caused the
face of the dead King to be exposed when the body was brought to London
in order that there might be no possible doubt. Serle was arrested at
length and brought to London, where he was executed at Tyburn. But
still the delusion lingered on. Sixteen years later one Thomas Ward,
called “Trumpyngtone,” personated the King, and two London citizens
named Benedict Wolman and Thomas Bikering hatched a conspiracy to
produce the false Richard. They were, however, arrested: one of them
died in prison, the other was executed. Four years later, when Ward was
dead, two more Londoners were arrested for keeping up the mischievous
story. One of them was released, the other was kept in prison.
The Church and the clergy at that time had grave cause for anxiety. The
spirit of discontent was abroad. It was shown by the late rebellion
of the Essex and the Kentish men; it was shown by the falling off
in bequests and donations and foundations of chantries, obits, and
anniversaries; it was shown by the general hatred of the mendicant
orders, and especially of the Franciscans, formerly so widely, and
so deservedly loved; it was shown by the murmurings, deep and low,
against the wealth of the Church, against the laziness and luxury of
the Religious, against the general immorality imputed, rightly or
wrongly, to the Ecclesiastics of all kinds—there were sixty clerks in
Holy Orders caught in the act of adultery in the years 1400 to 1440:
there were notoriously women who kept disorderly houses for priests and
procured girls for them (see Riley’s _Memorials_). The spirit of revolt
was shown by the action of the City when it prayed for the dissolution
of St. Martin’s Sanctuary on the ground that the place was a mere
receptacle of murderers, thieves, and bankrupts; it was shown most
decisively and unmistakably in the remarkable prayer of Parliament that
the King would take over into his own hands the whole of the Church
lands. This petition demands larger notice. The following is Fabyan’s
account:—
“In this yere (xi Henry IV.) the kyng helde his parliament at
Westmynster, during the whiche the commons of this lande put up a
bylle to the kyng, to take the temporall landes out from spiritual
mene’s handes or possession. The effect of whiche bylle was, that the
temporaltes, disordynately wasted by men of the churche, myghte suffice
to find for the kyng xv erles, xv C knyghts, xi M and CC esquyers and
C houses of almes, to the releef of poore people, more than at these
dayes were within Englande. And over all thyse aforesayd charges the
kynge myght put yerely in his coffers xx M pounds. Provyded that every
erle should have of yerely rent iii M marke, every knyght an C marke
& iiii ploughe lande, every esquyer xl marke by yere, with ii plughe
land, and every house of almesse an C marke and oversyght of ii trewe
seculers into every house. And also with provicion that every township
shoulde kepe all poore people of theyr owne dwellers, whiche myght
not labour for theyr lyvynge, with condycyon that if more fell in a
towne than the towne myght maynteyn, that the said almesse houses to
releve suche townshyppes. And for to bere thyse charges, they allegyd
by theyr sayd bylle, that the temporalyties beyng in the possession of
spirituell men, amounted to CCC and xxii M marke by yere, whereof they
affermyd to be in the see of Caunterbury, with the abbeys of Cristes
Churche, of Seynt Augustyns, Shrowsbury, Coggeshale, and Seynt Osiys xx
M marke by yere.
In the see of Durham and other abbeys there, xx M marke: in the
see of York & abbays there, xx M marke: in the see of Wynchester &
abbays there, xx M marke: in the see of London with abbays and other
houses there, xx M marke: in the see of Lincoln, with the abbays of
Peterbourth, Ramsay, & other, xx M marke: in the see of Norwych, with
the abbays of Bury and other, xx M marke: in the see of Hely, with
the abbays of Hely, Spaldyng, & other, xx M marke: in the see of
Bathe, with the abbay of Okynborne & other, xx M marke: in the see of
Worceter, with the abbays of Euisham, Abyngdon, & other, xx M marke:
in the see of Chester with precinct of the same, with the sees of
Seynt Davyd of Salisbury & Exceter, with theyr precinctes, xx M marke:
the abbays of Ravens, or Revans, of Founteyns, of Geruons, and dyvers
other, to the number of five more, xx M marke: the abbays of Leyceter,
Waltham, Gisbourne, Merton, Circetir, Osney, & other, to the number of
vi more, xx M marke: the abbays of Dovers, Batell, Lewis, Coventre,
Daventry, & Tourney, xx M marke: the abbays of Northampton, Thornton,
Brystow, Kelyngworth, Wynchecombe, Hayles, Parchissor, Frediswyde,
Notley, and Grymysby, xx M marke.
The which foresayd sumes amounte to the full of CCC M marke: and for
the odde xxii M marke, they appointed Herdford, Rochester, Huntyngdon,
Swyneshede, Crowlande, Malmesbury, Burton, Tewkisbury, Dunstable,
Shirborn, Taunton, & Bylande.
And over this, they allegyd by the sayd byll, that over and above the
sayd sume of CCC & xxii M marke dyvers houses of relygon in Englande,
possessyd as many temporalties as might suffyce to fynde yerely xv M
preestes & clerkes, every preest to be allowed for his stipende vii
marke by yere.
To the which byll none answere was made, but that the kyng of this
matyer wolde take delybracion & advycement, and with that answer it
endyd.”
This estimate of the revenues of the various religious houses at the
enormous sum of 322,000 marks, or £216,000 sterling, a sum which we
must multiply by fifteen or twenty in order to get an approximation to
our money, would thus be equivalent to a revenue of from three millions
to four millions and a quarter. If we bear in mind the vast extent of
the country then lying waste, untilled, and uncleared, merely forest
land, we can understand the enormous proportion which the lands of the
Church bore to the rest of the cultivated soil. The Religious Houses
of London (not including Westminster) were set down at 20,000 marks or
£13,333 a year, equivalent to £200,000 a year of our money.
In the next reign (2 Henry V.) the Commons returned to the subject, and
sent up the same Bill. And this in the face of the recent severities
towards the Lollards. Fabyan asserts that in fear lest the King should
give to this Bill a “comfortable audyence,” certain Bishops and other
head men of the Church reminded him of his claims upon France, and
he says also that this Bill was the cause of the French wars which
followed. It might have been one of the causes, perhaps; Henry V. was
the last man to quarrel with the Church or to deprive the Church of
her lands; at the same time, his title to the throne was accounted
defective—there were many elements of trouble; there were nobles to
conciliate; there were towns to please. He would not willingly create
new enemies; a successful foreign war is always most popular; what
the Black Prince achieved,—the same popularity, the same splendid
reputation,—he might also achieve. The King therefore gently laid aside
the Bill and presently embarked upon his war with France.
The clergy knew perfectly well that the main cause of the national
discontent with the existing forms and institutions of religion was the
teaching of the Wyclyfite.
[Illustration: “THE TRUE PORTRAITURE OF RICHARD WHITTINGTON, THRICE
LORD MAYOR OF LONDON” (d. 1423)
From the engraving by R. Elstrack.]
It was, indeed, to be expected that his preaching would be popular in
all classes down to the very humblest. How should it be otherwise? He
addressed all who could be moved by noble and generous inspirations. He
preached against the enormous wealth of the clergy and the Religious
Houses, wealth which choked up and destroyed the springs of piety;
against the vices which too many of the clergy flaunted impudently
in the face of the world, sloth, luxury, gluttony, intemperance,
and incontinence: he preached in favour of personal righteousness,
purity, and faith: it is significant that no new Monastic Houses were
founded; that on the other hand, men like Whittington, Carpenter,
Niel, and Sevenoke, in the City were founding schools, endowing
libraries, rebuilding prisons, erecting almshouses, but never endowing
monasteries. Whittington, for instance, gave a library to Grey Friars:
he built and endowed an almshouse called God’s House: he founded the
College of the Holy Spirit for five fellows, clerks, conducts, and
servants: he restored the hospital of St. Bartholomew: he provided
“bosses” or taps of fresh water in various parts of London: he rebuilt
Newgate: he gave money for a library at the Guildhall. Of other civic
benefactors in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries we must record
the names of Sir John Philpot, who destroyed the pirates: of Sir
William Sevenoke, who founded a grammar school in his native town: of
Sir Robert Chichele, who gave money to provide a dinner and two-pence
once a year to 2400 poor householders: of Sir John Wells, who brought
water from Tyburn: of Sir William Estfried, who constructed a conduit
from Highbury to Cripplegate: of John Carpenter, town clerk, who has
given us the _Liber Albus_, and who founded a small charity which in
time grew into the City of London School: of Sir John Niel, master
of the hospital of St. Thomas Acon in Chepe, who proposed to found
four new City schools: of William Byngham, who founded at Cambridge
the small college called God’s House for twenty-four scholars, which
afterwards developed into the illustrious and venerable College of
Christ: of William Elsinge, who founded the Spital for a hundred poor
men which afterwards became Sion College: of John Barnes, who left
money to be lent to young men beginning in business: of Philip Malpas,
who left the then large sum of £125 a year for the relief of poor
prisoners, besides great benefactions to the poor, and a sum of money
then yielding £25 a year for Preachers on the three Easter Holydays at
St. Mary Spital. When we remember that a priest could then live on £6 a
year—does that include his lodging?—the remuneration for three sermons
seems generous indeed. Robert Large belongs to the latter half of the
fifteenth century: he left a great sum of money in various bequests,
including the very useful charity of a marriage _dot_ for poor Maids.
There were others, but these may suffice. They sufficiently prove the
wealth of the donors, because a man thinks first of his own children
or nephews: when he has provided for them, and not till then, he may
consider how best to dispose of the residue. They prove also what is
known from other sources of information that the endowment of monastic
houses had practically ceased. Whittington, it is true, founded a
college, but the chief duty of the Fellows was to sing masses daily and
for ever for the repose of his own soul and that of his wife. I know
nothing that shows the decay of the old belief in monks and friars more
clearly than the list of fourteenth and fifteenth century benefactions
and endowments. “Let us have libraries for scholars, and almshouses
for the aged poor,” says Whittington, and endowed them. “Let us have
schools,” says Sevenoke, Carpenter, and Byngham, and they endow them.
But for the rich monks of the Holy Trinity, St. Mary of Grace, of St.
Albans, of St. Peter’s—nothing.
[Illustration:
_Grove and Boulton._
THE PORCH OF THE CHURCH OF ST. ALPHAGE, LONDON WALL, FORMERLY THE
CHAPEL OF THE PRIORY OF ELSINGE SPITAL]
Henry could not afford to quarrel either with the Church or with the
City. He passed the statute _De comburendis haereticis_ and the Bishops
began to light those baleful fires of Smithfield which, far more than
wealth, far more than luxury, alienated the hearts of the people from
the Church.
The first of London Martyrs was a priest of St. Osyth’s in the City.
At the head of a narrow lane south of Cheapside called Size Lane—or
St. Osyth’s Lane—is one of those tiny enclosures which in the City
mark the site of a former church and churchyard, encroached upon by
successive generations, surrounded by high walls, a melancholy reminder
of the past. Here was the church of St. Osyth, and on this spot were
preached the doctrines of Wyclyf by William Sautre. He was chosen as
the first victim on account of his personal popularity. The greater the
man, the more terrible would be the example. Already he had been tried
and convicted of heresy. He was now tried and convicted as a relapsed
heretic. He denied the doctrine of transubstantiation, which has always
been the heretic’s stumbling-block. They burned him at Smithfield after
a ceremony of degradation at St. Paul’s. Sharpe thinks that he was
sentenced by special order of the King, because it took place before
the passing of the Statute.
In the year 1410 was burnt a humble working man, a tailor—but the
_Chronicle_ and Stow call him a clerk—of Worcester, named John Bradby.
The Prince of Wales, already a zealot in the cause of orthodoxy, was
present. The poor wretch was placed in a cask surrounded with faggots.
At the agonised shrieks of the wretched man, the Prince ordered him to
be taken out, and offered him life and enough to live upon if he would
confess the true faith. The man refused and was put back again into the
cask. The story is thus related in the _Chronicle_:—
“This same yere there was a clerk that beleved nought on the sacrament
of the auter, that is to seye Godes body, which was dampned and
brought into Smythfield to be brent, and was bounde to a stake where
he schulde be brent. And Henry, prynce of Walys, thanne the kynges
eldest sone, consailed him for to as forsake his heresye, and holde
the righte wey of holy chirche. And the prior of seynt Bertelmewes in
Smythfield broughte the holy sacrament of Godes body, with xii torches
lyght before, and in this wyse cam to this cursed heretyk: and it was
asked hym how he beleved: and he ansuerde, that he belevyd well that
it was halowed bred and nought Godes body: and thanne was the toune
put over him, and fyre kindled thereinne: and whanne the wrecche
felte the fyre he cried mercy: and annon the prynce comanded to take
away the toune and to quench the fyre, the whiche was don anon at his
comaundement: and thanne the prynce asked him if he would forsake his
heresye and taken hym to the feith of holy chirche, whiche if he wold
don, he schuld have hys lyf and good ynowe to lyven by: and the cursed
schrewe wold nought, but contynued forth in his heresye: wherefore he
was brent.”
Besides the weapon of the stake the King gave the clergy other help in
suppressing heresy. He put a price upon the head of Sir John Oldcastle,
Lord Cobham, who was considered the leader of the Lollards. His
importance is indicated by the huge rewards offered for his capture.
Information which would lead to his arrest would be rewarded by 500
marks: actual arrest would be rewarded with a thousand marks: the city
or borough which should take him should be forever free of all taxes,
tallages, tenths, fifteenths, and other assessments. Conventicles were
forbidden; and, to prevent the performance of heretical services, no
one was allowed to enter a church after nine in the evening or before
five in the morning.
In the year 1407 there occurred a pestilence in the City which carried
off, Stow says, thirty thousand in London alone. Nothing, however, is
said about it in Holinshed, or in the _Chronicle_.
In 1409 there was a great and noble tournament held between the
Hainaulters and the English.
In order to gratify the richer part of the commonalty by keeping out
the country, those who flocked into the towns and wanted to learn
trades and be apprenticed, Henry passed a law forbidding any to be
apprenticed who had not land to the extent of 20s. a year. The act was
repealed, however, in the next reign.
Everything points to a condition of great prosperity in the City before
the outbreak of the Wars of the Roses. After every restoration of order
the prosperity of London goes up by leaps and bounds. Many important
buildings were erected: the Guildhall was removed to its present site
from its former site in Aldermanbury “and of an olde and lytel cottage,
made unto a fayre and goodly house”: Leadenhall Market was built: the
walls of the City were repaired and strengthened: the City Ditch was
drained out and cleaned: a new gate was built: the streets were lit at
night, or ordered to be lit, which is not quite the same thing: and,
as we have seen, the rich merchants gave large and costly gifts to the
City.
The consideration and respect in which the City was held at this time
is illustrated by the fact that when Parliament granted the King a
shilling in the pound on all lands they placed the money in the hands
of four Treasurers, three of whom were citizens of London.
In the year 1412 the Sheriffs were called upon to prepare a return of
the amount of lands and Tenements held in the City—for purposes of
taxation. The gross rental of the whole City was returned at £4220, or,
in our money, about £60,000, which would not now represent Cheapside
alone. But comparisons based on the assumed modern value of money
at any period are at best unsatisfactory. How, for instance, can we
reconcile the fact that Richard Whittington’s estate was worth no more
than £25 a year with the great sums which he possessed and spent?
The death of King Henry is a thrice-told tale. Let Fabyan tell the
story:—it belongs to the Annals of Westminster.
“In this yere, and xx days of the moneth of November, was a great
counsayll holden at the Whyte Freres of London, by the whiche it was
amonge other thynges concluded, that for the kynges great journaye
that he entendyd to take, in vysytynge of the holy sepulcre of our
Lord, certayne galeys of warre shuld be made & other pursueaunce
concernynge the same journay. Whereupon all hasty and possyble spede
was made: but after the feest of Christenmasse, whyle he was makynge
his prayers at Seynt Edwardes shryne, to take there his leve, and so
to spede hym upon his journaye, he became so syke, that such as were
about him feryd that he wolde have dyed right there: wherefore they,
for his comforte, bare hym into the abbottes place, & lodgyd him in
a chamber, & there upon a paylet, layde him before the fyre, where
he laye in great agony a certayne of tyme. At length, whan he was
comyn to himselfe nat knowynge where he was, freyned of suche as then
were aboute hym, what place that was: the which shewyd to him that it
belongyd unto the abbot of Westmynster: and, for he felte himselfe so
syke, he commaunded to aske if that chamber had any specyall name:
whereunto it was answeryd, that it was named Jerusalem. Than sayd the
kynge, louvynge be to the Fader of Heven, for noew I knowe I shall dye
in this chamber, accordyng to the prophecye of me beforesayd, that I
shulde dye in Jerusalem: and so after he made himself redy, and dyed
shortly after.”
Other details given by Monstrelet bear the stamp of truth.
“The king,” he says, “in great pain and weakness lay before the fire,
his crown on a cushion beside him. They thought him dead. Then the
Prince took up the crown. But the king recovered, it was a fainting
fit before the end. ‘Fair son,’ he asked, ‘why hast thou taken my
crown?’ ‘Monseigneur,’ replied the Prince, ‘here present are those who
assured me that you were dead, and because I am your eldest son and to
me will belong the crown when you have passed from life, I have taken
it.’ Then said the king, with a sigh, ‘Fair son, how should you have
my right to the crown when I have never had any, and that you know
well?’ ‘Monseigneur,’ replied the Prince, ‘just as you have held it
and defended it by the sword, so will I defend it all my life.’ Then
said the king, ‘Do with it as it seemeth good to thee.’”
CHAPTER X
HENRY V
[Illustration: HENRY V. (1387-1422)
From the engraving by Greatbach of the picture at Windsor Castle.]
On the night of his father’s funeral, the new King remained in the
Abbey. He spent that night in confessing and praying at the cell of the
anchorite which was outside the Chapel of Saint Catherine where are
now the Little Cloisters. Stanley calls this the Conversion of Henry.
That is because Stanley believed all that has been written about the
youth of Henry—about his wild days, and his wild companions. But this
Prince never existed except in the later popular imagination. That is
to say, it has been clearly proved that he was so much occupied in
Wales and elsewhere during his youth and early manhood that there was
small opportunity for wild revels in London. It must be owned that
there has been a persistent tradition of a stormy time in youth, but
it seems as if the popular imagination had confused Henry with Edward
II. Holinshed, for instance, quotes one:
Ille inter juvenes paulo lascivior ante,
Defuncto genitore, gravis constansque repente
Moribus ablegat corruptis regis ab aula
Assuetos socios, et nugatoribus acrem
Poenam (si quisquam sua tecta reviserit) addit,
Atque ita mutatus facit omnia principe digna,
Ingenio magno post consultoribus usus, etc. (Vol. iii.)
However this may be, Henry was always open to the influences of
religion. He was crowned on 9th April, Passion Sunday. The coronation
was marred by a heavy thunderstorm with torrents of rain, so that men’s
hearts failed them for fear, thinking of what evil things this portent
might mean. In the end it was recognised as foreshadowing trouble for
the French.
His first act was the removal of King Richard’s body to Westminster
with great pomp and state. He was probably induced to perform this
pious act by the desire to dissociate himself and his father from any
connection with the deposed King’s death. He then, being urged thereto
by Archbishop Arundel, arrested Sir John Oldcastle, but first sent
for him and caused him to explain his faith and teaching. This Sir
John did, declaring the King, and not the Archbishop at all, to be his
supreme judge, and offering to purge himself in battle or to bring
a hundred knights or esquires for his purgation. The King, however,
being advised by his Council, handed him over to be tried by the
Spiritual Courts. The trial was held first in St. Paul’s Cathedral,
and next in the Hall of the Dominicans. The verdict of the Archbishop
was, of course, that Oldcastle was a heretic. He was sent back to the
Tower, whence he managed to escape. And then occurred the mysterious
plot, which one cannot avoid concluding was no more a plot than any
fabricated by Titus Oates. What really happened was this. Sir Roger
Acton, a knight “of great wit and possessions,” one John Browne, an
esquire, and one John Beverley, Priest, and some others were reported
to the King to be gathered together in armour near St. Giles Church.
It was also said that they expected reinforcements in large numbers
from the City: Holinshed says 50,000 were expected; Walsingham puts the
number at 5000. The time of year was soon after Christmas. The King
caused the City gates to be closed, then he repaired to Westminster and
there getting together a sufficient force, rode out to St. Giles where
he found the people assembling at midnight, and falling upon them,
either killed or took them all prisoners. Possibly the leaders proposed
a Lollard demonstration, armed, no doubt, because every one carried
arms for every occasion; certainly, next day the arrest of suspected
persons began: in a short time the City prisons were full: those who
appeared to be the leaders were tried, some for heresy by the clergy,
and some for high treason at the Guildhall. In the end twenty-nine
were either hanged or burned, the latter, for the greater terror,
gallows and all.
This so-called rising gave an occasion for a more severe statute
against the Lollards by which the secular power, no longer contented
with carrying out the sentences of the ecclesiastical courts, undertook
the initiative against heretics. This points to some kind of panic.
Perhaps the clergy had realised the full danger of the Lollard
movement. Early in 1415 Henry sent an offer of pardon to Oldcastle if
he would make submission. He refused, perhaps distrusting the promise,
and, according to Walsingham, prepared for an insurrection as soon
as the King should have gone to France. But the King went to France
not troubling about Oldcastle: and there was no rising. Probably,
therefore, Walsingham imagined or invented this motive. The fires of
martyrdom were lit again that same day. Witness the letter written by
the Mayor or Aldermen to the King, touching the trial and execution of
John Cleydon. The man was a currier by trade: he had in his possession
a number of heretical books, for which he was tried by Archbishop
Chichele in St. Paul’s on 17th August 1415. The king being then in
France, the Mayor himself gave evidence against the prisoner, who was
sentenced to be burned with all his books. The case was deemed of
sufficient importance to demand a special letter to the King, of which
the following is the important part:—
“Forasmuch as the King of all might and the Lord of Heaven, who of
late graciously taught your hands to fight, and has guided your feet
to battle, has now, during your absence, placed in our hands certain
persons who not only were enemies of Him and of your dignity, but
also, in so far as they might be, were subverters of the whole of
your realm: men commonly known as “Lollards” who for long time have
laboured for the subversion of the whole Catholic Faith and of Holy
Church, the lessening of public worship, and the destruction of your
realm, as also the perpetration of very many other enormities horrible
to hear: the same persons, in accordance with the requirements of law,
we have unto the Reverend Commissaries of Reverend Father in Christ,
and Lord, Richard, by Divine permission, the Lord Bishop of London,
by indenture caused to be delivered. Whereupon one John Cleydone, by
name, the arch parent of this heretical depravity, was by the most
reverend Father in Christ, and Lord, Henry, by Divine permission,
the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, Primate of all your realm and
other Bishops, his brethren, as well as very many Professors of Holy
Scripture and Doctors of Laws, in accordance with the canonical
sanctions, by sentence in this behalf lawfully pronounced, as being
a person relapsed into heresy, which before had been by him abjured,
left in the hands of the secular Court: for the execution of whose
body, and the entire destruction of all such enemies, with all
diligence, to the utmost of our power we shall be assisting.” (Riley’s
_Memorials_, p. 617.)
We may perhaps see in this letter the desire of the City Fathers to
clear themselves from any suspicion of Lollardy. The worthy citizens
did not desire a reform in church doctrine so much as a return to
simple measures and holy living.
[Illustration: SHIPS AT LA ROCHELLE, 1372
From Froissart’s _Chronicles_.]
For two years Oldcastle led a wandering life with a few companions.
He was once nearly taken at St. Albans, where the Abbot’s servants
heard of him and went out to arrest him. He got away, but some of his
servants were caught: and they found books of devotion upon them in
which the painted heads of the Saints had been scraped off: the names
of the Virgin and of the saints had been blotted: and divers writings
had been made up and down the page in derogation of honour paid to
the Virgin and to the Saints. These books were displayed at Paul’s
Cross to illustrate the extreme wickedness of Lollardy. At length Sir
John Oldcastle was taken by Sir Edward Charlton, Lord of Powis. So
much importance was attached to the capture that Charlton received
a reward of 1000 marks. There does not appear to have been the
slightest grounds for representing this great and noble man, a hundred
and fifty years in advance of his age, as a traitor, a conspirator,
or in any sense hostile to the King. He was free for two years to
work his conspiracies and he refrained. But he was always active in
disseminating Lollard teaching. In 1417 he was hung on a gallows by
chains, and was, it is said, slowly burned to death, at St. Giles,
close to the south end of the present Tottenham Court Road. Like so
many martyrs, like Latimer, like Cranmer, like Ridley, he was sustained
through the fiery torment by the steadfast faith which burned in his
soul more fiercely than the crackling flame without. Before he suffered
he prayed forgiveness for his enemies: he exhorted the people to obey
the Scripture in all things: he refused the ministrations of a priest.
“To God only, now as ever present, he would confess.”
It seems afterwards, amid the wars and strifes and bloodshed of the
century, as if Lollardy was dead. It was not. The memory of Sir John
survived; the teaching of the simple life, the pure life, the chaste
life, remained in men’s hearts and bore fruit when they found time and
opportunity to compare once more the Church of the present with the
Church of the past.
Henry, for the purpose of strengthening his doubtful seat on the throne
by the prestige of victories, resolved upon continuing the foreign
policy of Edward III. On 10th March 1415 he informed the Mayor of his
intention. A great meeting, with the King’s brothers and some of the
Bishops, was held at the Guildhall to consider the question of finance.
This meeting is important because the precedence of the Mayor in the
City was there decided. He was considered as the King’s representative
in the City, and therefore took the highest place with the Bishops on
his right and the King’s brothers on his left. The King pledged his
jewels and the security of his customs for the sum of 20,000 marks.
Later on, the City advanced the sum of 5000 marks and a further sum
of £2000 on the security of a valuable sword set in gold and precious
stones.
The conspiracy of the Earl of Cambridge and Lord Scrope, discovered
on the eve of sailing from Southampton, proves that the crown of the
Lancastrian was still insecure. But Henry was going to show himself in
the light of a great captain against whom conspiracies were useless and
futile.
[Illustration: MARRIAGE OF HENRY V. AND KATHERINE OF FRANCE
From MS. in British Museum. Roy. 20 E vi.]
There was no doubt as to the loyalty of the City under Harry of
Monmouth. When the forces in France were suffering from scarcity of
victuals, the citizens sent off to Rouen thirty butts of sweet wine,
1000 pipes of ale and beer, and 25,000 cups for the men’s use. And they
scoured the City for any vagrant soldiers, whom they shipped off as
they were pressed, to join the army. The news of Agincourt (Oct. 25,
1415) reached London on 28th October when the new Lord Mayor, Nicholas
Wotton, was sworn into office at the Guildhall. He conveyed the news
to the Lord High Chancellor, and they celebrated the event with a Te
Deum at St. Paul’s. On the following day the Mayor, accompanied by the
Aldermen, the companies, and as many of the nobility as had houses
in the City, walked in procession to Westminster, where they made
oblations at the shrine of St. Edward. They were careful to record that
this walking on foot was not to be taken as a precedent or to supplant
their riding. When the King himself returned he was received with the
greatest rejoicings, rejoicings unlike those which greeted many of his
predecessors, for they were real. A victorious Prince, young, gallant,
successful, wins all hearts. He brought to England with him all his
prisoners, a goodly company. He was met on Blackheath by the Mayor,
Aldermen, and Sheriffs dressed in scarlet gowns, with three hundred of
the principal citizens all richly accoutred. At St. Thomas Watering
the London clergy met him with their most gorgeous robes; the City
was decorated with carpets and tapestry, and there were pageants with
children representing angels and singing praises and psalms, while the
conduits ran wine. This is William Gregory’s account of the Riding:—
“And the xxiij day of November the kyng came unto London whythe
alle hys prisoners above sayd. And there he was resseyvyd worthily
and royally by the mayre with all the aldermen whythe hym there. And
whythe a royalle processyon he was broughte home: and there was made
stondyng upon the brydge Syn George royally armyd, and at the Crosse
in Cheppe was made a castelle and there with was moche solemnyte of
angelys and virgenys syngyng. And soo he roode untylle that he came to
Powbys and there mette whithe hym xvi byschoppys and abbatys whithe
processyon and seizyd him and broughte hym uppe into thw quere whythe
devoute songe, and there he offered and the Fraunsythe lordys alle so.
And thaunce he roode forthe unto Westmynster: and the mayre and hys
brethren broughte hym there.”
The day after this triumph the Mayor and Aldermen presented the King
with the sum of £1000 in gold and deposited it in two golden basins
worth half as much.
There was another grand procession of 14th June 1420, when the news
arrived of the Treaty of Troyes which made Henry heir to the French
crown. In February 1421 the King with his newly-married Queen,
Katherine, arrived at London and lay at the Tower. Another grand
procession escorted them to Westminster where Katherine was crowned. On
this occasion, as on the return from Agincourt, the City assumed every
appearance of joy.
As regards internal affairs during this reign, the Mayor in 1415
ordered the citizens to hang out lanthorns for the lighting of the
City by night. Leadenhall Market was built at the expense of Sir Simon
Eyre, sometime Mayor. He designed it as a public granary in time of
scarcity, but it never appears to have been used as such. On one side
was a chapel with a college endowed as a Fraternity of the Trinity,
consisting of sixty priests, by whom mass was sung on market day. In
the Hall was kept the common Beam for weighing wool, and a public
market was held. The Hall was afterwards used as an Armoury for the
City, and lastly turned into a Meat Market.
And then, alas! this gallant Prince died, being then no more than
thirty-two years of age. This lamentable event, which prepared the way
for all the miseries of foreign humiliation and civil war, happened at
Bois de Vincennes on the 31st August 1422. The body of the King was
brought over from France, and received a funeral worthy of his kingly
virtues. In an open chariot it lay coffined; and above the coffin was
the effigy of the King in royal robes, a crown upon his head, a sceptre
in one hand and the orb in the other. The figure lay upon a rich cloth
and the canopy was borne by nobles. The obsequies were performed at St.
Paul’s, and the body was then taken to Westminster.
And so ended prematurely the life of the best-beloved King that ever
England saw, and they were no feigned or perfunctory tears that flowed
abundantly at his obsequies. Let me transcribe the words of John
Hardyng in his _Chronicle_:—
“O good Lord God that art omnipotent,
Why streched not thy power and thy might
To kepe this prince, that sette was and consent
With th’ emperour, to conquere cirry right,
And with Christen inhabite, it had hight
Why favoured so thyne high omnipotence
Miscreaunce more then his benevolence.
Above all thyng he keped the lawe and peace
Through all England, that none insurrection
Ne no riotes were then withouten lese,
Nor neighbour werre in faute of correccion:
But peasebly under his proteccion,
Compleyntes all, of wronges in generall,
Refourmed were well under his yerd egall.
When he in Fraunce was dayly conversant
His shadow so obumbred all England,
That peace and lawe kepte continuant
In his absence throughout all this land,
And else, as I conceyve and understand,
His power had been lite to conquere Fraunce
Nor other realmes that well were lesse perchaunce.
The peace at home and lawe so well conserved,
Were croppe and rote of all his hie conquest
Through whiche the love of God he well deserved
And of his people by North, South, Est, and West,
Who might have slain that prince or downe him cast
That stode so sure in rightfull governaunce
For common weale, to God his hie pleasaunce.”
CHAPTER XI
HENRY VI
[Illustration: HENRY VI. AS AN INFANT
From Strutt’s _Manners and Customs_.]
The disastrous and miserable reign of Henry of Windsor began when the
King, an infant less than a year old, was carried through London in
the lap of his mother. He was placed under the guardianship of the
late King’s brothers, the Duke of Bedford and the Duke of Gloucester.
The former being the elder claimed to be Protector of the Realm,
which was granted him, his Protectorate to begin on his return from
France. The glories and victories of the late reign, the personal
popularity of Henry V., and his constant support of the Church seemed
to have removed for the time all fears of further risings against
the Lancastrian House. But the materials for rebellion always remain
where there is a rightful heir standing apart, and not contented with
the simple rank of noble. The reign, indeed, began with the conviction
of Sir John Mortimer for treasonable designs in favour of the Earl of
March. In addition to this danger, the great nobles were always ready
to take offence and to join any insurrection that might offer; while,
as regards the City, though it was true and loyal to all appearance,
its loyalty, as had been already proved on many occasions, would not
stand the strain of bad trade, increased taxation, or invasion of the
City liberties. Above all, the young King had a very long period of
tutelage before him, and the country had to expect during that period
the uncertainties and the dangers of a Protectorate. The first sign of
approaching disturbance was the quarrel between the Duke of Gloucester
and Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester. It is a very singular story
as told by Gregory. The Bishop was going to seize the City by armed
force. Why? with what object? Perhaps he proposed to depose the Duke
of Gloucester, but then he would have had to reckon with the Duke of
Bedford.
“And that same yere that the mayre rode to Westmynster on the same
daye for to take hys othe, that ys, was the xxix daye of Septembyr,
whenne that he come home to hys mete with hys aldyrmen and with hys
goode comyners, or that they hadde fully, etc., the Duke of Glouceter
sende for the mayre and hys aldermen that they shulde come speke with
hym: and whenne they come he cargyd the mayre that he shuld kepe welle
the cytte that nyght for my Lorde of Glouceter and the Byschoppe
of Wynchester were not goode frendys as in that tyme. And on the
morowe certayne men kepte the gatys of the brygge of London by the
commaundement of the Lorde of Glouceter and of the mayre. And by-twyne
ix and x of the belle ther come certayne men of the Byschoppys of
Wynchester and drewe the chaynys of the stulpys at the brygge ende in
Southework ys syde, the whiche were both knyghtys and squyers, with a
great mayny of archerys, and they enbaytaylyd them, and made defens of
wyndowys and pypys as hyt hadde bene in the londe of warre, as thowe
they wolde have fought agayne the kyngys pepylle and brekyng of the
pes. And thenne the pepylle of the cytte hyrde thereof, and they in
haste schytte in ther shoppys and come downe to the gatys of the brygge
in kepyng of the cytte ande savacyon of the cytte a-gayns the kyngys
enmys, for alle the shoppys in London were schytte in one howr. And
thenne come my Lorde of Cauntyrbury ande the Prynce of Portynggale, and
tretyd by twyne my Lorde of Glouceter and the Byschoppe of Wynchester
for they rode viij tymes by twyne the duke and the byschoppe that day.
And thonkyd be God, thoroughe goode governaunce of the mayre and hys
aldyrmen, alle the pepylle was sessyde and wentte home ayenne every
mann, and none harme done thorough ealle the cytte, thonkyd be God.”
(W. Gregory’s “Chronicle” in _Collections of a London Citizen_.)
The same story is told more briefly in the _Chronicle of London_
(Nicolas). The Duke of Bedford came over and acted as arbitrator.
The citizens made him a present of a thousand marks in gold with two
golden basins; but he received them coldly, one cannot tell why.
However, he patched up a peace between the Bishop and his brother and
took the Bishop to France with him, perhaps to get him out of the way.
When, five years later, Beaufort was made Cardinal and Papal Legate
he returned, and was honourably received by the citizens, “and he was
resiayvd there worthily and ryally of the mayre and alle hys brethreyn.”
The following letters between the King, _i.e._ the Protector in the
King’s name, and the Mayor are quoted by Maitland to show certain
claims and alleged immunities made by the Corporation at this time.
“Henry, by the Grace of God, King of England and France, and Lord of
Ireland, to the Mayor and aldermen of the City of London, greeting.
Willing for certain Causes, to be certified upon the Tenors of divers
Liberties and Customs of the aforesaid City, and concerning the
Records and Memoranda of Servants and Natives coming to the aforesaid
City, and tarrying there for a Year and a Day, without complaint of
their Lords or Masters before you had, and inrolled in our Court
of our Chamber of Guildhall of the aforesaid City as is said: We
command you the Mayor, distinctly and openly to send the Tenor of
the Liberties, Customs, Records, and Memoranda beforesaid, to us in
our Chancery, under your Seal and this our Brief. Witness myself at
Westminster the twentieth of January, in the seventh year of our
Reign.”
To which the Mayor and Aldermen returned the following answer:—
“Be it remembered that in the Time of Holy King Edward, heretofore
King of England, and before from all time no Memory of Man, then was
extant such dignity, liberty, and Royal Custom, among others was had,
used, and approved in the City of London, which is, and from all
time hath been called The free Chamber of the King of England, as
from ancient Time it was used, and had in the great city of Troy: to
wit, That every Servant whosoever he were, that came to the City of
London, and tarried in it for a Year and a Day, without Reclamation
of his Lord there, afterwards he may, ought, and hath accustomed
through his whole Life so freely and securely to tarry there, as it
were in the House or Chamber of the King: And thence it is, that the
same holy King Edward, amongst other things, by his Laws remaining of
Record in the Treasury of Guyhald of the said City, and reciting the
City itself to be the head of his Kingdom, and that it was founded
like and after the manner of old Troy; and that it containeth in it
the Laws, Liberties, Dignities, and royal Customs of great Troy: He
appointed and ordained, that the said city of London may have and
keep everywhere, by one Inviolability always, all her old Usages
and Customs, wheresoever the King himself shall be, whether in an
Expedition or otherwise.
And afterwards King William the Conqueror, King of England, by his
charter, which remaineth of the Record in the same Treasury, granted
to the Men of London, that they be worthy of all that both Law
and Right, as they were in the days of the aforesaid Edward. And
moreover, the said William the King, among other laws at the said City
made, with the consent of noble and wise men of the whole Kingdom,
and remaining in the said Treasury, likewise remaining of record,
appointed and ordained, that if Servants remain, without Complaint,
by a Year and a Day in a Burgh compassed with a Wall, or in Castles,
or in the cities of the said King; whence the said City of London, to
that Time, and from all Time before, was one, and the more principal
of the whole Kingdom, as is said before; from that Day let them become
Freemen, and let them be for ever free and quit from the Yoke of their
Servitude. And the Record continues, viz., It is to be noted, that
the Laws, Recitements, and Statutes of holy King Edward, of which
Mention is made above, are contained in Folio 34 of this Book, in the
Title De Heretochiis and Libertatibus, London; and in Folio 113 of the
Book of Customs of the said City: and in Folio 36 of the Book called
Recordatorium London, etc. It is also had in folio 162 of the Red Book
of the Exchequer, called the True Charter; by which the foresaid lord
the Conqueror hath confirmed to the citizens of London all Rights and
Laws which they had in the time of holy King Edward, together with
certain other charters, by which the said Lord, immediately after the
Conquest, gave the whole Hyde and land of the City of London, whereof
he had then been possessed in his Demesne, to the Men of the said
City, patent and remanent under the Seal of the said King, in the
Custody of the Chamberlain, in the Treasury of the said City; which
Charters are contained and incorporated in the Great Charter of the
Liberties and Customs of the City of London, and are confirmed by the
Lord the King (Henry the Sixth) and his progenitors. But the Tenors of
the said Charters are patent in the Latin Tongue, in Folio 238 of the
Book of Ordinations of the said City.” (Maitland, vol. i. p. 188.)
The fifteenth century is full of the disasters and violent deaths of
great nobles. The history of Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, brother to
Henry V., belongs especially to London. On the death of his brother,
being then about twenty-seven years of age, he was, as we have seen,
named joint-guardian of the infant King, and was to rule England
by consent of Parliament, until his elder brother returned from
France. The wars and the threatening aspect of things kept the Duke
of Bedford abroad except for occasional visits to England until his
death. Gloucester is spoken of as a man of profligate habits and great
ambition. These general adjectives are convenient for the historian;
they sum up a man, and present him in bold outline. Now in nature there
is no outline, only gradual shadings. He was, it is said, ambitious.
The Court of the young, weak-minded King was full of intrigue and
plottings and conspiracies for power and place. The courtiers were all
ambitious. What any one wanted, if not power, it is not possible to
arrive at with certainty. They all wanted power and place, nor is it
easy to see that any one of the ambitious lords was in that respect
worse than any other. And as regards Gloucester it must be remembered
that if Henry died without heirs he stood next to Bedford in the
succession, and that Bedford had no children. As for Gloucester’s
morals, we have seen that London at this time, thanks to the Lollard
movement, was exacting in the point of morals: yet Gloucester remained
popular with the citizens: they made him presents—500 marks on one
occasion and 1000 on another—though the latter gift was for the Duchess
Jacqueline. It is said that Eleanor Cobham was his mistress before
he married her. Perhaps he had the sense not to parade the liaison,
in which case the good citizens would not be scandalised. But the
morals of kings and princes have never been very jealously watched by
their subjects. Charles II. and George IV. are by no means alone in
immorality: and the world has forgiven or forgotten most of the others.
In other words, there is nothing to show that Gloucester was specially
blameworthy on the score of morals. It is, however, quite certain that
he was a splendid and lordly Prince, a patron and a lover of the fine
arts.
[Illustration: THE DUKE OF BEDFORD]
The stormy career of Jacqueline de Brabant, his first wife, belongs to
the history of her time rather than that of London. Yet because her
misfortunes first awakened the voice of the women of London her life
may be briefly noted in this place. She was the only daughter and the
heiress of William, Count of Hainault and of Margaret of Burgundy his
wife. No one, to outward seeming, could be more strongly protected
or in safer hands than this girl. She was married at five years of
age to John, second son of Charles VI. of France, the young prince
being like herself, a child. On the death of the Dauphin John took the
title of the Dauphin du Viennois. He was killed by poison immediately
upon arriving in France. Jacqueline was thus a widow at sixteen. They
married her immediately to John, Duke of Brabant, her cousin german, by
dispensation of the Pope. The Duke was an imbecile, with whom his wife
refused to continue. In 1420 she left him and came to England. Here
Duke Humphrey proposed to consider the marriage null and void. On the
death of Henry V. a bull was obtained to that effect from the anti-Pope
Benedict XIII., and she and Gloucester were married. Gloucester then
demanded of the Duke of Brabant the restitution of his wife’s estates.
On his refusal he entered the country with 5000 English troops prepared
to encounter the allied forces of Brabant and Burgundy. But the latter
withdrawing, Gloucester returned to England leaving Jacqueline in Mons.
She was taken prisoner, conducted to Holland, escaped in the disguise
of a soldier, and, then being reduced to great straits and receiving
no succour from Gloucester, who could probably get none, she concluded
peace with the Duke of Burgundy, her cousin. The Duke of Brabant was
now dead. In the treaty of peace she acknowledged that she was not the
lawful wife of Gloucester; she named the Duke of Burgundy her heir; and
she engaged not to marry again without the Duke’s permission.
It was before this treaty, which separated Jacqueline entirely from
English sympathies, that the women of London, for the first time in
history, made their appearance in public. Filled with sympathy for the
misfortunes of this unhappy heiress, thus driven out of her estates,
a prisoner, a wanderer, deserted by her cousin and her husband, they
presented themselves before Parliament in the year 1427 and laid before
the Commons at Westminster assembled, a petition or letter complaining
of the Duke’s behaviour towards his wife. In the following year the
citizens themselves begged the consideration of Parliament for the
abandonment of the Duchess. This would lead us to believe that in the
distracted condition of the State the Duke of Gloucester simply could
not get succour for his wife. It would be interesting to know how the
women were got to act together, whether by meeting at Paul’s Cross and
by female oratory, or, which is much more likely, by house-to-house
visitation. Nothing, however, came of their interference.
Jacqueline very soon grew tired of her engagement not to marry without
her cousin’s leave. She married a knight of Flanders named François de
Borcelen, whom the Duke of Burgundy promptly imprisoned. Jacqueline
bought his liberty by the surrender of all her estates, receiving only
out of all her princely possessions a modest annuity. Meantime, the
Duke of Gloucester was already married to Eleanor, daughter of Lord
Cobham.
In the year 1441 Gloucester’s second marriage was brought to a
miserable end. The Duchess was accused, it is said by the wicked wiles
of Cardinal Beaufort, but it is quite possible that his wiles were
not in this case exercised at all. Eleanor may have been, probably
was, ambitious for her husband and for herself. Henry was by this time
nineteen years of age and unmarried. The physical weakness of the
lad was certainly known to his uncles and the Court circle. Perhaps
he would never be able to marry. Perhaps he would die. In the latter
event, which was by no means improbable, the Duke of Gloucester would
succeed, the Duke of Bedford now being dead, and then Eleanor would
be Queen. Of magic and witchcraft there was at this time plenty, as
there is still, and always has been; that is to say, plenty to be had
for those who could afford to pay for it. The Duchess learned where
there was a wise woman, she paid her money, and she inquired and
learned what she wanted, viz. how to get rid of a person whose end was
ardently desired. Nothing was easier; one had only to make with fitting
incantations and magical formulæ, an image in wax of the person whose
death was desired, and then, simply by sticking pins into the image,
or by holding it before the fire, to make it, and at the same time her
enemy, waste away. There is nothing at all incredible in supposing
that a woman in the fifteenth century, strongly tempted by ambition,
conscious that her husband was watching every day with expectation the
health of the feeble king, would follow such a course. The persons
charged with being the Duchess’s accomplices were four—namely, Master
Thomas Southwell, a Canon of St. Stephen’s, Westminster; Master John
Hume, Chaplain of the Duchess; Master Roger Bolingbroke—his name is
also written Bulbroke—and Wyche, “a man,” says Fabyan, “expert in
negromancy”; and a woman named Margery Jourdemayne, surnamed the
witch of Eye in Suffolk, obviously a wise woman of the time with some
reputation for sorcery. The accused persons seem to have been brought
before the Lords in Council, who also interrogated the Duchess. They
are all said to have confessed. The four confederates were tried at
the Guildhall. Was the offence, then, committed in the City of London?
The three men were sentenced to be hanged, drawn, and quartered;
the witch was sentenced to be burned. As regards the latter, poor
old Margery, the sentence was duly carried out, for she was “brent”
in Smithfield. The Canon of St. Stephen’s died in his cell the day
before that appointed for his execution; John Hume, the chaplain, was
pardoned and went about his business; the unfortunate “negromancer”
alone, Roger Bolingbroke, paid the penalty of his crime. First he stood
in pillory at Paul’s Cross, with all his instruments, the wizard’s
tools and weapons hanging around him in the presence of the shuddering
crowd; next he was drawn to Tyburn and there hanged, with the usual
accompaniments. He protested his innocence to the last.
As for the Duchess she first took sanctuary at Westminster; then, for
some reason unknown, she left sanctuary and fled to the “Castle” of
Lesnes. Is this Lesnes Abbey near Woolwich? There she was arrested and
examined by the Lords in Council. It is said that she confessed. The
complete silence and inactivity of her husband, who does not appear to
have moved a step in the matter, seems to show that he was convinced of
her guilt, and that he was anxious not to appear involved in an odious
crime which, if Henry were to die, would imperil his succession, or
at least, blacken his name, and strengthen his enemies. Eleanor was
ordered by the Council to do public penance. And here follows one
of the most picturesque incidents in the whole history of Mediæval
London. Accompanied by her women, the Duchess was taken on Monday,
13th November, from Westminster (from which we gather that she was
lodged in the Palace), in a barge to the Temple Stairs. There her
maids took off her shoes and stockings and her rich gown, wrapped her
in a white sheet, took off her hood, tied a white handkerchief over
her head, and placed in her hand a wax taper weighing two pounds. In
this dismal guise, while trumpets went before, and men-at-arms marched
before her and behind her,—one hopes she was allowed the attendance
of her maids,—this great lady, the wife of the Regent or Protector,
the greatest lady in the land, stepped barefooted along the rough
road, while all the streets were crowded and every window was filled
with curious eyes, and the people each asked the other if this pale
and shrinking woman could be the wife of Duke Humphrey, the Duke of
Gloucester, brother to King Henry V., Protector of the Realm? Pity she
received none: who could pity one who had practised arts of devilish
magic? And were not the ashes of her confederate, the witch of Eye,
still smoking on the soil of Smithfield? At St. Paul’s she offered her
taper at the high altar. Two days afterwards, she was again taken by
barge from Westminster to the Swan Stairs, where she landed, and in
the same guise as before, walked “through Bridge Streete, Groschirche
Street, to the Ledenhalle and so to Crichurche.” And on Friday in
the same way she landed at Queenhithe and so into Chepe and to St.
Michael’s, Cornhill. It is a curious illustration of the time and of
the respect due to rank that though this public and infamous penance
was inflicted upon the lady, the Mayor, the Sheriffs, and the Crafts of
London met her every day at her landing. It is not stated whether they
accompanied her in her dolorous walk afoot. The Duchess was taken to
Chester, where she lived in retirement for the rest of her life.
Six years later, the King being now in the hands of William de la Pole,
Earl of Suffolk, the Duke of Gloucester met his end. He was arrested
at St. Edmundsbury on a charge of treason, and on the morrow was found
dead in his bed. People were frequently found dead in their beds in
these circumstances. To give some colour to the charge of treason five
of his people were accused of complicity, and condemned to the usual
mode of death. They were drawn to Tyburn, hanged for a few moments,
cut down alive, stripped naked and “marked with a knife in order to be
quartered.” That is to say, slight incisions were made all about the
body in order to guide the executioner’s hand. They were then, having
experienced nearly all the agonies of death by violence and torture,
unexpectedly pardoned by the Earl of Suffolk. Did the conductor of the
proceedings keep the pardon in his pocket and produce it just at the
critical moment when the knife had drawn those diagrams in lines of
blood round the victims’ naked bodies? or did the Earl send off the
pardon by special messenger who arrived just in time to save them? If
so, then the situation is one of the most dramatic in all the annals
of Tyburn. It is said that their clothes were kept by the hangman, and
that they all had to return, naked and bleeding as they were, to the
City, where they were received with great joy.
[Illustration: HENRY VI. (1421-1461)
From a portrait in Eton College.]
The popularity of the Duke in the City is attested by the memory of his
name which long survived in a proverb, “to dine with Duke Humphrey,”
_i.e._ to have no dinner at all. The name of the “Good Duke,” who was
buried at St. Albans, was given to a certain tomb in St. Paul’s, that
of Sir John Beauchamp, warden of the Cinque Ports, who died in 1358.
It became a custom for certain citizens—probably they were a club or
association of some kind—to meet at this tomb on St. Andrew’s Day in
the morning, and there, under pretence of holding offices under Duke
Humphrey, to conclude with a feast. Also, on Mayday, watermen, bearers
of tankards, and others, came to the tomb and strewed it with nuts
and sprinkled water upon it as if they too were the servants of Duke
Humphrey. This custom perished in the Great Fire, which burned up not
only tombs and churches and great houses but the memory of great men.
The materials for the reign of Henry VI. as regards London are scanty.
We can set forth the principal events in a short space. When the Duke
of Burgundy changed sides and joined the King of France, the citizens
first showed their detestation of perfidy by murdering a great number
of Burgundians and other foreigners resident in the City, and also
provided a large body of troops maintained at their own expense for the
defence of Calais. There was trouble with the Fishmongers, who were
made to abate their pretensions. There was trouble about sanctuary. A
soldier named Knight was in prison at Newgate, his friends trumped up a
charge of debt against him, and as they had expected, it was necessary
for him to go to the Guildhall for trial. His friends, to the number
of five, lay in wait in Panyer Alley and snatched him from the hands
of the guard as he passed St. Martin le Grand. They hurried him into
sanctuary where they defied the power of the City authorities. The two
Sheriffs, however, forcibly entered St. Martin’s, and dragged out the
whole gang, prisoners and rescuers. These they laid by the heels in
Newgate and waited the event. It came, after much argument before the
Judges, in the confirmation of St. Martin’s rights. The prisoners were
all handed back to the Dean of the College, and replaced in sanctuary
where they abode, probably till death.
In Gregory’s _Chronicle_ (see p. 112) we read about a certain Sir
Richard Whyche (or Wick) who with his servant was burned on Tower Hill
for heresy, “for the whyche there was moche trobil amonge the pepylle,
in soo moche that alle the wardys in London were assygnyd to wake there
day and nyght that the pepylle myght nought have hyr ylle purpose as at
that tyme.” The reason of the “trobil” is told by Fabyan. The people
regarded this Richard Wick as a holy and righteous man and greatly
resented his martyrdom. The Vicar of Allhallows, Barking, close by,
thinking to profit in some way by the deception—probably proposing to
get a saint, or martyr, or shrine with offerings, or pilgrimages for
his own church—hit upon a notable design for increasing the popular
reverence. He mixed fragrant powders with the ashes of the heretic as
they lay on Tower Hill: then he loudly called attention to this marvel:
“Lo! the very ashes of the martyr exhale a sweet scent.” And he sold
small portions of the ashes for large sums of money. This villainy
continued for some days until the whole town being disturbed by the
strange story, they arrested the Vicar and made him confess. Perhaps
the Vicar was himself a Lollard and endeavoured in this way to become a
popular martyr. There had been, indeed, many popular martyrs, Sautre,
Bradby, Cobham, Cleydon, and others; the people stood round the stake
in tears, but no one ever dared to move. Lollardy was dying out save
for the hatred entertained by the people against the wealthy Religious
Houses.
In 1429 the King, being then eight years of age, was crowned at
Westminster before being taken over to France to be crowned there. The
ceremony and order of the coronation service are fully set forth by
Gregory:—
“Nowe of the solempnyte of the coronacyon. Alle the prelatys wente
on processyon beryng eche of hem a certayne relyke: and the Pryor of
Westemyster bare a rodde callyde _Virga regia_, ande the Abbot of
Westemyster bare the kyngys ceptoure. And my Lorde of Warwyke bare
the kynge to chyrche in a clothe of scharlet furryd, evyn as the newe
knyghtys of the Bathe wente whythe furryde hoodys with menyver. And
then he was led up in to the hyghe schaffold, whyche schaffold was
coveryd alle with saye by twyne the hyghe auter and the quere. And
there the kyng was sette in hys sete in the myddys of the schaffold
there, beholdynge the pepylle alle aboute saddely and wysely. Thenne
the Arche-byschoppe of Cantyrbury made a proclamacyon at the iiij
quartyrs of schaffolde, sayynge in thys wyse: ‘Syrys, here comythe
Harry, Kyng Harry the v ys sone, humylyche to God and Hooly Chyrche,
askynge the crowne of thy(s) realme by ryght and dyscent of herytage.
Yf ye holde you welle plesyd with alle and wylle be plesyd with hym,
say you nowe, ye! and holde uppe youre hondys.’ And thenne alle the
pepylle cryde with oo voyce, ‘Ye! ye!’ Thenne the kynge went unto the
hyghe auter, and humely layde hym downe prostrate, hys hedde to the
auter warde, longe tyme lyyng stylle. Thenne the arche-byschoppys and
byschoppys stode rounde a-boute hym, and radde exercysyons ovyr hym,
and many antemys i-song by note. And thenne the arche-byschoppes wente
to hym and strypte hym owte of hys clothys in to hys schyrte. And there
was yn hys schyrte a thynge lyke grene taffata, whyche was i-lasyd at
iiij placys of hym. Thenne was he layde a downe a yenne, and helyd
hym with hys owne clothys yn the same maner a-fore sayde. And thenne
the Byschoppe of Chester and of Rouchester songe a letany ovyr hym.
And the Arche-byschoppe of Cantyrbury radde demany colettys ovyr him.
Thenne the arche-byschoppys toke hym uppe a gayne and unlasyd hym,
and a-noynted hym. Fyrste hys bryste and hys ij tetys, and the myddys
of hys backe, and hys hedde, alle a-crosse hys ij schylderys, hys ij
elbowys, his pamys of hys hondys: and thenne they layde a certayne
softe thynge as cotton to alle the placys a-noyntyd: and on hys hedde
they putt on a whyte coyffe of sylke. And so he wentte viij days: and
at the viij dayes the byschoppys dyde wasche hit a-waye with whyte wyne
i-warmyd leuke warme. And the knyghtys of the Garter helde a clothe
of a-state ovyr hym alle the whyle of his waschynge. To the fyrste
processe, aftyr the oyntynge he layde hym doune prostrate a-gayne.
Thenne the arche-byschoppys raddyn solempne colettys with a solempne
prefas. And thenne they toke hym up a-gayne and putte a-pon hym a goune
of scharlette whythe a pane of ermyn, and Synt Edwarde ys sporys,
and toke hym hys cepter in hys honde, and the kyngys yerde i-callyd
_Virga regia_ in hys othyr honde, sayyng there-with, _Reges eos in
virga ferrea_, etc., he syttyng thenne in a chayre by fore the hyghe
auter. And thenne alle the byschoppys seseden with a swerde, they alle
syttynge there hondys thereon, ande alle they saynge thes wordys thys
to hym, _Accingere gladio tuo super femur tuum, potentissime_. And at
every tyme the kyng answeryd and sayde, _Observabo_. Thenne toke they
the swerde a-gayne fro hym, and layde the swerde on the hyghe auter.
Thenne bought the kyng hys swerde a-gayne of Hooly Chyrche for an C
s. in signe and in tokyn that the vertu and power sholde come fyrste
fro Hooly Chyrche. Thenne sette they on hys hedde Synt Edwarde ys
crowne. Thenne rose he owte of hys chayre and layde hym downe prostrate
a-gayne. And there the byschoppys sayde ovyr hym many hooly colettys.
And thenne they toke hym up and dyspoylyd hym of hys gere a-yen, and
thenne a-rayde hym as a byschoppe that sholde sing a masse, with a
dalmadyke lyke unto a tunycule with a stole a-bowte hys necke, not
crossyd, and a-pon hys fete a payre of sandellys as a byschoppe, and a
cope and glovys lyke a byschoppe: and thenne sette a-yen on hys hedde
Synt Edward ys crowne, and layde hym a-pon the schaffold and sette
hym a sete of hys astate, and ij byschoppys stondyng on every syde of
hym, helpyng hym to bere the crowne, for hyt was ovyr hevy for hym,
for he was of a tendyr age. And then they be-ganne the masse, and the
Arche-byschoppe of Cauntyrbury songe the masse. And a nothyr byschop
radde the pystylle. And the Byschoppe of Worsethyr radde the gospelle
at the auter. And at the offretory come the kyng downe and made the
oblacyon of brede and wyne, there whythe offerynge a pounde weyght of
golde, the whiche contaynyd xvj marke of nobbelys. And thenne wente he
uppe a-gayne in to the schaffold and satte there in hys sete tylle the
iij Agnus Dei, and thenne he come downe a-gayne and layde hym prostrate
saying there hys _Confyteor_ and alle the prelatys sayde _Misereator_.
And thenne he sate uppe, knelynge with humylyte and grete devocyon,
ressavyng the iij parte of the holy sacrament apon the paten of the
chalys of the Arch-byschoppe handys. Thenne there come the Byschoppe of
London with the grete solempne chalys by Synt Edwarde and servyd hym
whythe wyne: the whyche chalis by Synt Edwarde ys dayes was praysyd at
xxx M marke: and the Cardenalle of Wynchester and a othyr byschoppe
helde to hym the towelle of sylke: and so he knelyd stylle tylle mas
was i-doo. Thenne rosse he up a-gayne and yede a-fore the schryne, and
there was he dyspoylyde of all the ornamentys that he weryde, lyke the
ornamentys of a byschoppe, as hyt was sayde by-fore: and thenne he was
a-rayde lyke a kynge in a ryche clothe of golde, with a crowne sette on
hys hedde, whyche crowne Kynge Rycharde hadde made for hym selfe. And
so the kynge was ladde thoroughe the palys yn to the halle, and alle
the newe knyghtys be-fore hym in hyr a-raye of scharlette: and thenne
all the othyr lordys comynge aftyr hym: thenne come the othyr lordys
comynge aftyr hem. Thenne come the chaunceler with hys crosse bare
heddyd: and aftyr hym come cardenelle with hys crosse in hys abyte lyke
a chanon yn a garment of rede chamelett, furryd whythe whyte menyver.
And thenne folowyde the Kynge, and he was ladde by-twyne the Byschoppe
of Dyrham and the Byschoppe of Bathe; and my goode Lorde of Warwyke
bare uppe hys trayne. And byfore hym rode my Lorde of Saulysbury as
Constabylle of Ingelonde in my Lorde of Bedforde hys stede, and thenne
my Lorde of Glouceter as Stywarde of Ingelonde. And aftyr hym rode the
Duke of Northefolke as Marchalle of Ingelonde. And before the kynge
iiij lordys bare iiij swerdys, ij in there schaberdys and ij nakyde.
And one wa[s] poynteles of the iiij swerdys above sayde. And as they
[were] syttyng at mete the kyng kepte hys astate: and on the ryght
honde sate the Cardynalle whythe a lower astate: and on the lyfte syde
sate the chaunceler and a byschoppe of Fraunce, and noo moo at that
tabylle. And on the ryght honde of the halle at that borde kepte the
baronys of the Fyffe portys, and soo forthe, clerkes of the Chaunsery:
and on the lefte honde sate the Mayre of London and hys aldyrmen, and
othyr worthy comynerys of the cytte of London. And in the myddys of
the halle sate the byschoppys, and justysys, and worthy knyghtys, and
squyers, and soo fyllyde bothe the myddylle tabyllys of the halle. And
at the ryght honde of the halle uppon a schaffolde, stode the kyngys of
harowdys alle the mete tyme in hyr cote armorys and hyr crownys in hyr
heddys. Ande at the fyrste course they come downe and wente by fore the
kyngys champyon, Syr Phylyppe Dymmoke, that rode in the halle i-armyde
clene as Syn Jorge. And he proclaymyd in the iiij quarterys of the
halle that the kynge was ryghtefulle ayre to the crowne of Ingelonde,
and what maner man that wolde nay hyt, he was redy for to defende
hyt as hys knyghte and hys champyon. Ande by that offyce he holdythe
hys londys, etc.” (“Chronicle” in _Collection of a London Citizen_.)
William Gregory as a good citizen cannot refrain from giving the menu
of the Coronation banquet. One pities the poor child having to go
through the long ceremony of the Abbey first and having to sit out this
long banquet afterwards.
[Illustration: HENRY VI. AT THE SHRINE OF ST. EDMUND
From MS. in British Museum. Harl. 2278.]
Next year Henry was taken over to Paris, and there also solemnly
crowned, with no doubt another Coronation banquet. In the same year
there was a small and unimportant tumult which shows the lingering of
Lollardy. The leader who called himself Jack Sharpe wanted to have a
rising in London in order to take away the temporalities of the Church.
The _Chronicle of London_ says that his name was William Maundeville,
some time a weaver of Abingdon. He chose his time when the King and
most of the lords were away in France, when, with his friends, he
spread abroad bills and placards in every town. Nothing came of it
except to himself and his party, for he and some of his friends were
hanged, drawn, and quartered, and their heads set upon London Bridge.
And, the same year, there was one Russell, a craftsman of free and
independent thought, who purposed to create an entirely new House of
Lords after his own ideas. He, a Reformer before his age, was hanged,
drawn, and quartered. In the same year it is casually mentioned “that
Pucylle was brent at Rone and that was upon Corpus Christi Even.”
In January 1432 the King returned to England, and on St. Valentine’s
Day (Sharpe says 20th February: Gregory says Valentine’s Day) he was
received by the City, the Mayor, Aldermen, and Sheriffs, with an
immense following of citizens, who rode out as far as Blackheath to
meet him. They presented him with the following address:—
“Sovereign Lord as welcome be ye to your Roiaulme of Englond, and in
especial to your notable Cite London, otherwise called your Chambre,
as ever was Christen Prince to place or people, and of the good and
gracioux achevying of your Coronne of Fraunce, we thank hertlich our
Lord Almighty which of His endless mercy sende you grace in joye and
prosperite on us and all your other people long for to regnew.”
The King receiving this address rode on to Deptford, where he was met
by a whole regiment of clergy all in their robes, with monks chanting
psalms of praise. Thence into London where a noble reception awaited
him. The description which follows is also taken from Gregory’s
_Chronicle_.
“At the south end of London Bridge was erected a tower: and in the
tower stood a giant holding a sword and saying solemnly _Inimicos ejus
induam confusione_. On each side of the giant was an antelope, one with
the arms of England and one with that of France. At the drawbridge
was another tower with three crowned empresses namely, Nature, Grace,
and Fortune who gave the young king gifts. On the right hand of the
Empresses stood seven fair maidens in white powdered with stars of
gold, who gave the king seven gifts of the Holy Spirit in the likeness
of seven white doves. On the left side were seven maidens in white
powdered with stars of gold, who gave the king seven gifts of worship,
and the maydens sang an hevynly songe unto the kynge of praysynge and
of hys victorye and welle comynge home.”
At the Conduit of Cornhill there was a tabernacle in which sat a King
in royal apparel: with him the Lady of Mercy, the Lady of Truth, and
the Lady of Cleanness, “hem embracing with Reson.” Before the King
two Judges of great worthiness with eight serjeants-at-law with this
scripture—
“Honowre of kyngys in every mannys syght
Of comyn curtosie, lovythe, equyte, and ryghte.”
At the Great Conduit there was a royal sight like unto Paradise. There
were virgins drawing water and wine of joy and of pleasure and comfort,
the which are to every man’s comfort and health. These maidens were
named Mercy, Grace, and Pity. In this Paradise stood two old men “like
heveynly folk.” They were named Enoch and Eli, and they saluted the
King with words of grace and virtue.
“And soo rode he forthe unto the Crosse in Cheppe. There stood a
royalle castelle of jasper grene, and there yn ij grene treys stondyng
uppe ryght, showyng the ryght tytyllys of the Kyng of Inglond and of
Fraunce, convaying from Synt Edwarde and Synt Lowys be kyngys unto the
tyme of Kyng Harry the vj every kyng stondynge whythe hys cote armowre,
sum lyberdys, and sum flourdelysse; and on that othyr syde was made the
Jesse of owre Lorde ascendyng uppewards from Davyd unto Jesu. And so
rode he forthe unto the Lytylle Condyte. And there was a ryalle mageste
of the Trynyte, fulle of angelys syngyng hevynly songys, blessynge ande
halowynge the kyngys whythe thes resonys in Latyn wrytyn; _Angelis suis
mandavit de te ut custodiant te_, etc. _Longitudinem dierum replebo
in eum et ostendam illi salutare meum._ And thenne vente he forthe
unto Poulys, and there he was ressayvyd whythe bysvhoppys and prelatys
whythe dene and the quere, and whythe devoute songe, as hyt longythe to
a kynge. Ande so he offerryd there and thankyd God of hys goode speede
and of hys welfare. And thenne he rode to Westemyster, and there he
restyd hym: and on the nexte day followynge the mayre and the aldyrmen
whythe a certayne comeners that were worthy men, and they presentyde
the kynge whythe an hampyr of sylvyr and gylte, whythe a M l. there yn
of nobellys, etc.”
The next great Riding was the reception of Margaret of Anjou when she
came over to be married in the year 1445, when the same “properties,”
castle, tower, and other devices, were brought out to greet her.
The disastrous wars in France, the lavish expenditure which produced
nothing but defeat, the unsettled condition of the Low Countries with
which the greatest part of the London foreign trade had been carried
on, a succession of bad harvests, with other causes, affected the
prosperity of the City as well as smaller towns very sensibly. When the
Parliament of 1433 voted a fifteenth and a tenth it assigned £4000 to
the relief of poor towns. Of this sum £76: 15: 6-1/4 was assigned to
eighteen wards of London.
In 1447 a petition was presented to Parliament by four priests of the
City, viz. William Litchfield, Allhallows the Great: Gilbert, St.
Andrew’s Holborn; John Cote, St. Peter’s Cornhill: and John Neil, St.
Thomas Acons Hospital, and St. Peter Colechurch; praying for permission
to set up schools of grammar in their respective parishes. They base
their request on the small and insufficient number of schools in London
compared with the great number that had existed in former days. What
schools were they? FitzStephen mentions three in the time of Henry
II. What grammar schools were founded between 1150 and 1450? Every
monastery it is said had its school. Certainly the novices and the
wards of the Abbot were under instruction: their place was assigned to
them in the Cloisters and there were rules as to their supervision. But
the sons of the citizens were not admitted to these schools. The King
replied that the schools might be established or provided, subject to
the approval of the Archbishop.
We have now arrived at a strange and not wholly intelligible event, the
rising of the Kentish men and their occupation of London.
The most important of these rebellions, known as that of Jack Cade,
was one among many which showed the temper of the people. The reverses
in France, where all that Henry V. had won was lost, never to be
recovered; the exactions and taxations; the many cases in which persons
were accused of treason and thrown into prison in order that others
might obtain their lands; created a widespread discontent, which, in
these risings, became the wrath which seizes on the sword and demands
the ordeal of civil war. There were at least three other leaders in
Kentish risings, one called Blue Beard, another named William Parminter
and a third named John Smyth. In Wiltshire the Bishop of Salisbury was
dragged from the altar and brutally murdered; and the insurgents in
that county were reckoned at 10,000 men.
Why they rose, and what were their grievances, are shown in the
remarkable document in which they are set forth.
As for the people who took part in these risings, it is certain that
they were by no means the common labourers and villeins, such as
those who went out with Wat Tyler. It is also certain that they chose
as their leader one who had some knowledge of war. And it must be
remembered that the men who flocked to the standard of Mortimer were as
well armed, and as good soldiers, as any whom the King could collect or
could command.
The leader called himself, or was called, Mortimer, and it is said
gave out that he was cousin to the Duke of York. His real name it is
said—but there seems some reason to doubt the story—was John Cade; he
was an Irishman by birth and he had been in the service of Sir Thomas
Dacre in Sussex, but had been compelled to abjure the country for
having killed a woman with child. He passed over to France and served
in the French army against England, but later he returned, assumed the
name of Aylmer, and married the daughter of a Squire; at this time he
called himself physician, and on the outbreak of the rebellion assumed
the name of Mortimer.[3]
[3] Gairdner, Introduction to the _Paston Letters_.
On the 1st of June the rebels reached London and encamped at
Blackheath. The King, who was at Leicester, hastened to town with a
large army of 20,000 men and lay at St. John’s Priory, Smithfield.
Instead of marching upon the rebels at once, he waited, and sent
messengers to know what they wanted.
They replied by a long and carefully drawn up “Bill of Articles,”
which was evidently the work of some clerk or lawyer: it was a
document which proves the rising to have been no chance effervescence,
but a deliberate and intelligent attempt to set forth and to remedy
grievances. It must be noted that Jack Cade or Mortimer kept up
correspondence with the City, having appointed one Thomas Cocke,
Draper, as his agent.
The following is the “Bill of Articles”:—
1. “Imprimis, it is openly noised that Kent shoulde be destroyed with
a royall power, and made a wylde foreste for the Deathe of the Duke of
Suffolk, of which the Commons of Kent thereof were never guilty.
2. “Item, the king is stirred to lyve only on his Commons and other
men to have ther revenues of the Crown the which hath caused povertie
in his excellencie, and great payments of the people, now late to the
king graunted in his Parliament.
3. “Item, that the Lordes of his Royall bloud been put from his dayly
presence, and other meane persons of lower nature exalted and made
chiefe of his Privie Counsell, the whiche stoppeth matters of wronges
done in the realme, from his excellent audience, and may not be
redressed as lawe will, but if bribes and giftes be messengers to the
handes of the Sayd Counsell.
4. “Item, the people of his realme be not payd of debts owing for
stuffe and purveyance taken to the use of the king’s householde, in
undoing of the sayd people, and the poor Commons of this realme.
5. “Item, the king’s menial servantes of householde and other persons,
asken dayly goods and lands, of impeached or indited of treason, the
which the king graunteth anon, ere they so endangered be convict.
The which causeth the receyvers thereof to enforge labours and means
applyed to the death of such people, so apeached or indited, by subtyl
means, for covetyse of the said grauntes: and the people so impeached
or indited, though it be untrue, may not be committed to the Lawe
for their deliverance, but helde still in prison, to their uttermost
undoing and destruction, for covetyse of goods.
6. “Item, though divers of the poore people and Commons of the Realme,
have never so great right, trueth, and perfect tytle to these landes,
yet by untrue clayme of enesessment made unto divers States, Gentles,
and the king’s meniall Servauntes in maintenaunces againste the ryght,
the true owners dare not holde, clayme, nor pursue their right.
7. “Item, it is noysed by common voices, that the king’s landes in
Fraunce been aliened and put awaye from the Crown, and his Lordes and
people there destroyed with untrue means of treason, of which it is
desyred, enquiries through all the realme to be made howe and by whom,
and if such traytors may be found guiltie, them to have execution of
Lawe without any pardon in example of other.
8. “Item, Collectors of the 3rd pennie in Kent be greatly vexed and
hurte in paying great summes of money, in the Eqchequere to sue out
a Writ called Quorum nomina for the allowance of the Barons of the
ports, which nowe is desyred, that hereafter in the lieu of the
Collectors the Barons aforesaide may sue it out for their ease at
their own costes.
9. “Item, the Sheriffs and undersheriffs, let to farme their offices
and Bayliwikes, taking great suertie therefore, the which causeth
extortions done by them and by their Bailiffs to the people.
10. “Item, simple and poore people that use not hunting be greatly
oppressed by inditments sained and done by the said sheriffs,
undersheriffs, Baylifs, and oter of their assent, to cause their
increase for paying of their said farme.
11. “Item, they returne in names of conquests in writing into divers
courtes of the kinges not summoned nor warned, where though the people
dayly leese great sumes of money, welny to the uttermost of their
undoing: make levie of amercementes called the Greene Ware, more in
summes of money than can be founde due of recorde in the kinges bookes.
12. “Item, the ministers of the courte of Dover in Kent bere and arest
diver people through all the Shire out of Castle warde passing their
bands and libertie bred of oldde time, by divers subtile and untrue
meanes and actions falsely sained, taking great fee at their lust in
great hurt of the people on all the Shire of Kent.
13. “Item, the people of the saide Shire of Kent, may not have their
free election in the choosing knights of the Shire, but letters bene
sent from divers estates to the great Rulers of all the Country, the
which embraceth their tenants and other people by force to choose
other persons than the common will is.
14. “Item, whereas knightes of the Shire should chose the kinges
collectors indifferently without any bribe taking, they have sent now
late to divers persons, notifying them to be collectors whereupon
giftes and bribes be taken, and so the collector’s office is bought
and sold extortionously at the knightes lust.
15. “Item, the people be sore vexed in costes and labour called to the
Sessions of peace in the sayd Shire, appearing from the farthest and
uttermost parts of the west unto the east, the which causeth to some
men v dayes journey, whereupon they desire the saide appearaunce to be
divided into two parties, the which one part to appeare in one place
an other part in an other place in releving of the grievaunce and
intollerable labours and vexations of the said people.
THE REQUESTES BY THE CAPTAINE OF THE GREAT ASSEMBLE IN KENT
“Imprimis, desireth the Captaine of the commons, the welfare of our
soveraigne Lord the king, and all his true Lords spirituall and
temporall, desiring of our faire soveraigne Lorde, and of all the true
Lordes of his counsell, he to take in all his demaines, that he may
raigne like a king royall, according as he is borne our true Christian
king annoynted, and who so will saye the contrarye, we will all live
and die in the quarrell as his true liege men.
“Item, desireth the said Captaine, that he will avoide al the false
progenie and affinitie of the Duke of Suffolk, the which bene openlye
knowne, and they to be punished after the custome and Lawe of this
Land, and to take about his noble person the true Lordes of his Royal
bloud of this his realme, that is to say, the high and mighty Prince
the Duke of Yorke, late exiled from our saide soveraigne Lordes
presence (by the motion and stirring of the traiterous and false
disposed the Duke of Suffolke and his affinite) and the mighty princes
the Dukes of Exeter, Buckingham, and Norfolke, and all the Earles and
Barons of this land and than that he be the richest king Christen.
“Item, desireth the said Captaine and Commons punishment upon the
false traitors, the which contrived and imagine the Death of the high
and mightful excellent Prince the Duke of Gloucester, the whiche is
too much to rehearse, and which Duke was proclaomed as traitor. Upon
the which quarrell, we purpose all to live and die that it is false.
“Item, the Duke of Exeter, our holy father the Cardinal, the noble
Prince, Duke of Warwick, and also the realme of Fraunce, the Dutchie
of Normandie, Gascoyne and Gwoin, Ansoy and Mayne, were delivered and
lost by the meanes of the sayd traytors and our true Lords, knights,
and esquires, and many a good yoman lost and sold ere they went, the
which is great pitie to heare, of the great and grievous losse to our
Soveraigne Lorde and his realme.
“Item, desireth the said captayne and commons that all the extortions
bred dayly among the Common people, might be layde downe, that is to
say, the Greene Ware the which is falsely bred, to the perpetuall
destruction of the king’s true commons of Kent. Also the king’s bench,
the which is too griefefull to the shire of Kent without provision of
our Soveraigne and Lord and his true Counsell. And also in taking of
Wheate and other graynes, Beefe, Mutton, and all other victual, the
which is importable to the Sayd Commons without the brief provision
of our said soveraigne Lorde and his true Counsell, they may no
longer beare it. And also unto the statute of labourers and the great
extortioners, the which is to say the false traytors, Slegge, Crowmer,
Isle, and Robert Este.”
These bills were of course disallowed by the Council as presumptuous,
and the King was exhorted to suppress the rebels by force. He thereupon
moved from Westminster to Greenwich, but when he would have sent an
army against the rebels the men refused to fight against those who
“laboured to amende the Common Weale.” Then the King temporised, and
since the rebels called out against Lord Saye, he committed him to
the Tower to pacify them. He then returned to Westminster, and two
days afterwards went against the rebels with 15,000 men. But they
had withdrawn to Sevenoaks in Kent. Therefore the King sent off Sir
Humphrey and William Stafford with a strong force to attack them.
They did so, but with the unfortunate result that the force was cut
up and all the men slain, and that Jack Cade and his men returned
to Blackheath. Then the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Duke of
Buckingham held an interview with the leader and found him “discreet in
his answers,” though he would not separate himself from his people.
The King and Queen, meanwhile, hearing of more adherents to Cade’s army
and perceiving the spread of disaffection among their own people, left
London for Kenilworth. Hearing of their departure the “Captain of Kent”
entered Southwark, taking up his lodging at the “White Hart”—was it
accidental or by design that he chose an Inn with the sign of Richard
II.’s badge? On the same day the Commons of Essex in great numbers
encamped at Mile End.
The Chronicles and authorities differ as to the order and details of
what followed. The broad outlines are clear. The authorities, who
appear to have been at first terror-stricken, resolved on putting the
City into a state of defence, chiefly on the exhortation of Robert
Horne, Alderman and Stockfish-monger. They placed a guard at all the
gates and at the lanes and stairs leading to the river; they forbade
the sending of arms outside the City; they placed machines for throwing
stones on the wharves; they gave every Alderman four men to assist him
in keeping the peace in his ward; but, in spite of all, the rebels
came in. There was no resistance, somebody—nobody knew who—got the
keys in some mysterious manner and opened the Bridge. And somehow,
the courageous Horne found himself in Newgate. Jack Cade’s symbolical
action in regard to London Stone is quoted in every child’s history
book. Shakespeare alludes to it in _Henry VI._ (Part II. Act iv. Scene
6)—
“SCENE—_Cannon Street. Enter Jack Cade with his followers. He strikes
his staff on London Stone._
_Cade._ Now is Mortimer lord of this city.”
On the first day there was peace, no acts of violence were permitted.
The rebels roamed at will about the London streets, and probably
if they wanted anything they took it. In the evening most of them
went home again. But some remained inside, and according to Gregory
“searched,” _i.e._ robbed, all night. On the next day the real
brutality of the mob showed itself. They arrested Lord Saye, the High
Treasurer of England, and beheaded him in Chepe after a mock trial
at the Guildhall, and in so great a hurry were they that they would
not give him time to finish his confession. They also beheaded Sir
James Crowmer, High Sheriff of Kent, at Mile End, one John Bayle at
Whitechapel. Cade would also have beheaded Robert Horne, but his
friends ransomed him for 500 marks. According to Fabyan it was after
these murders—according to Gregory it was on the first day—that Cade
began to pillage the rich merchants, commencing with Philip Malpas.
“They spoyled him,” says Gregory, “ande bare away moche goode of hys
and in specyalle moche money, both of sylvyr and golde, the valowe of
a notabylle sum, and in specyalle of merchaundys as of tynne, woode,
madyr, and alym, whythe grete quantyte of wollyn clothe and many ryche
jewellys, whythe othyr notabylle stuffs of fedyr beddys, beddyng,
napery, and many a ryche clothe of arys, to the valewe of a notabylle
sum—_nescio; sed Deus omnia scit_.”
[Illustration: WHITE HART TAVERN, BISHOPSGATE STREET
From an old print.]
Cade also robbed other merchants. Now since nothing so rouses a
merchant to fury as the prospect of being robbed, the Aldermen met
again and seriously determined that at all costs the rebels must be
kept out. They therefore put their defence into the hands of Lord
Scales, Lord Governor of the Tower. And then follows a battle, now
forgotten, which should have been one of the most picturesque in the
whole list of desperate fights. Like the famous Holding of the Bridge
of Rome was the Holding of the Bridge of London by Matthew Gough and
the citizens. It began on the night of Sunday, July the 5th, at ten
“of the bell,” and it continued all night long, without stopping,
till eight in the morning. Sometimes the Kentish men drove back the
citizens, but never beyond the drawbridge: sometimes the citizens drove
back the Kentish men, but never beyond the “bulwark” of the bridge.
Matthew Gough, lieutenant of the Tower, was killed in the encounter, so
was John Sutton, Alderman, with many other stout citizens and sturdy
rebels. All night long, in the clear twilight of the season, while the
quiet tide ebbed and flowed beneath the bridge, there were the clash
of arms and shouts and groans until the early sun rose. Beyond the
Bridge stood the citizens waiting for their turn, which never came, for
no one could pass out or in, but the fighting men in the front surged
backwards and forwards in a solid mass. And in the houses the people
lay sleepless: trembling while the din of battle ceased not.
[Illustration: LONDON STONE]
The rebels were worsted in the end. That is, thinking it impossible to
force their way into the City they withdrew. Then the Archbishop of
Canterbury with the Bishop of Winchester offered them a free pardon, to
include their leader, if they would go home quietly.
In the Church of St. Margaret, Southwark, an interview was held between
Cade and the Archbishop. The pardons signed by the Chancellor were
shown and handed over. The rebels accepted, and in a few hours the
whole army had melted away. Probably Cade found that it was useless
to hope for success since London held out so fiercely against him. It
is said that he tried to continue a hopeless struggle by taking the
prisoners out of the Marshalsea and King’s Bench. He then sent his
treasures by ship to Rochester and prepared to march on that place
with his army of prisoners. Here the story grows confused. There were
certainly not enough prisoners to form an army. Perhaps Cade looked
for local support at Rochester. However, he found that Rochester would
not receive him, so he made an attempt on Queenborough, and he then
fled, making for the dense forest which at that time covered nearly the
whole of Sussex. He was pursued by the new Sheriff, Alexander Iden, and
mortally wounded at a place called Heathfield.
When all was over and there was no more danger, the King returned to
London and marched through the City in state. Mindful, perhaps, of
Richard’s broken promises of pardon to the rebels, Henry continued his
march into Kent and executed twenty-six of them. With these exceptions
there seem to have been no other acts of revenge, and the men were
tried by the King’s Justices. The usual distribution of rebels’
quarters followed, and the decorations of London Bridge were enlarged
by the addition of Jack Cade’s head and by the heads of a few of his
companions.
When we consider this strange insurrection it is impossible to class it
with that of the rabble under Wat Tyler. There were men of substance
among Cade’s followers. We do not find that at first they robbed or
plundered or committed any acts of violence: they called upon all men
to join them; and they undertook, as soon as these things were amended,
to go home quietly again. The insurgents were not a mere rabble.
In many villages they were regularly called out by the constables.
Either they were an orderly body or they were kept in admirable order
by this mysterious leader of theirs. It is true that a charge is
brought against Jack Cade of taking things from the houses of two rich
citizens; and of loading a ship with his plunder. It may be true, on
the other hand it may be the invention of an enemy. When, again, we
examine into the actual crimes charged against Cade we find that he
executed Lord Saye, regarded as one of the greatest enemies of the
realm; also Lord Saye’s son-in-law, late High Sheriff for Kent; one
man whose offence is unknown; and one or two marauders in his own
camp. That concludes the list of executions, or murders. We have also
seen that he had influential friends in London. He kept good order;
he defeated the royal force sent out to capture him; he sent up to
the King, whoever drew it up, a well-drawn statement of grievances;
the Archbishop thought it well to confer with him and was under no
apprehension of ill treatment; on his giving the word of dismissal
his men quietly dispersed and went home. It is impossible to believe
that this man was a mere adventurer seeking an opportunity of private
pillage. Who he was, what he was, whence he came, why he was made
captain of the Kentish army, it is impossible to say. That he was a
common robber and murderer the facts of the case will not allow us
to believe. That he was considered of great importance is proved by
the perfidy which granted him a “charter” of safety and pardon, and
yet offered a reward for his body, dead or alive, and set up his head
on London Bridge looking towards Kent. The “Short English Chronicle”
(“_Three Fifteenth-Century Chronicles_,” Camden Society) contains a
memorable statement. The day after the all-night battle of London
Bridge, the Chancellor—Cardinal Kemp—went to “the capteyne and gave
him a charter and his men another and so withdrewe him homeward.” The
“Charter” means a free pardon. Richard II. had done the same thing in
the case of Wat Tyler’s rebellion. Yet, a day or two afterwards the
charter was disregarded, and a proclamation made of a thousand marks
reward for the capture of the leader quick or dead. The reason of this
broken faith is said by the chronicler to be that it became known that
the leader’s name was not Mortimer but Jack Cade, “and therefore his
charter stode in no strength.” So they hunted him down and killed him.
[Illustration: HENRY VI. AND HIS COURTIERS
From tapestry in St. Mary’s Hall, Coventry.]
The most interesting of all the _Paston Letters_ is one signed John
Payn, in which the writer narrates his personal recollections of the
Cade Rebellion. I quote it entirely as illustrative of the remarkable
movement:—
“Pleasyth it your gode and gracios maistershipp tendyrly to consedir
the grete losses and hurts that your por peticioner haeth, and haeth
jhad evyr seth the comons of Kent come to the Blakheth, and that is at
xv yer passed, whereas my maister Syr John Fastolf, Knyght, that is
youre testator, commandyt your besecher to take a man, and ij of the
beste orsse that were in his stabyll, with hym to ryde to the comens of
Kent, to gete the articles that they come for. And so I dyd; and al so
sone as I come to the Blakheth, the capteyn made the comens to take me.
And for the savacion of my maisters horse, I made my fellowe to ryde a
wey with the ij horses; and I was brought forth with before the capteyn
of Kent. And the capteyn demaundit me what was my cause of comyng
thedyr, and why that I made my fellowe to stele a wey with the horse.
And I seyd that I come thedyr to chere with my wyves brethren, and
other that were my alys and gossippes of myn that were present there.
And than was there oone there, and seid to the capteyn that I was one
of Syr John Fastolfes men, and the ij horse were Syr John Fastolfes;
and then the capteyn lete cry treson upon me thorought all the felde,
and brought me at iiij partes of the feld with a harrawd of the Duke
of Exetter before me in the dukes cote of armes makyng iiij _Oyes_ at
iiij partes of the feld; proclaymyng opynly by the seid harrawd that
I was sent thedyr for to espy theyre pusaunce, and theyre abyllyments
of werr, fro the grettyst traytor that was in Yngelond or in Fraunce,
as the seyd capteyn made proclaymycion at that tyme, fro oone Syr John
Fastolf, Knyght, the whech mynnysshed all the garrisons of Normaundy,
and Manns, and Mayn, the whech was the cause of the lesyng of all the
Kyngs tytyll and ryght of an herytaunce that he had by yonde see. And
morovyr he seid that the seid Sir John Fastolf had furnysshed his plase
with the olde sawdyors of Normaundy and abyllyments of werr, to destroy
the comens of Kent whan that they come to Southewerk; and therfor he
seyd playnly that I shulde lese my hede.
And so furthewith I was taken, and led to the capteyns tent, and j
ax and j blok was brought forth to have smetyn of myn hede; and than
my maister Ponyngs, your brodyr, with other of my frendes, come and
lettyd the capteyn, and seyd pleynly that ther shulde dye a C or ij
[a hundred or two], that in case be that I dyed; and so by that meane
my lyf was savyd at that tyme. And than I was sworen to the capteyn,
and to the comens, that I shulde go to Southewerk, and aray me in the
best wyse that I coude, and come ageyn to hem to helpe hem; and so I
gote th’articles, and brought hem to my maister, and that cost me more
emongs the comens that day than xxvijs.
Wherupon I come to my maister Fastolf, and brought hym th’articles,
and enformed hym of all the mater, and counseyled hym to put a wey all
his abyllyments of werr and the olde sawdiors; and so he dyd, and went
hymself to the Tour, and all his meyny with hym but Betts and j [_i.e._
one] Mathew Brayn; and had not I ben, the comens wolde have brennyd
his plase and all his tennuryes, wher thorough it coste me of my noune
propr godes at that tyme more than vj merks in mate and drynke; and
nought withstondyng the capteyn that same tyme lete take me atte Whyte
Harte in Suthewerk, and ther comandyt Lovelase to dispoyle me oute
of myn aray, and so he dyd. And there he toke a fyn gowne of muster
dewyllers furryd with fyn bevers, and j peyr of Bregandyrns kevert with
blew fellewer [velvet] and gylt naile, with leg-harneyse, the vallew of
the gown and the bregardyns viij l. [£8].
Item, the capteyn sent certeyn of his meyny to my chamber in your
rents, and there breke up my chest, and toke awey j obligacion of myn
that was due unto me of xxxvj l. by a prest of Poules, and j nother
obligacion of j knyght of x l., and my purse with v ryngs of golde, and
xvijs vjd of golde and sylver; and j herneyse [harness] complete of the
touche of Milleyn; and j gowne of fyn perse blewe furryd with martens;
and ij gounes, one furryd with bogey, and j nother lyned with fryse;
and ther wolde have smetyn of myn hede, whan that they had dyspoyled
me atte White Hart. And there my Maister Ponyngs and my frends savyd
me, and so I was put up tyll at nyght that the batayle was at London
Brygge; and than atte nyght the capteyn put me oute into the batayle
atte Brygge, and there I was woundyt, and hurt nere hand to deth; and
there I was vj oures in the batayle, and myght nevyr come oute therof;
and iiij tymes before that tyme I was caryd abought thorought Kent and
Sousex, and ther they wolde have smetyn of my hede.
And in Kent there as my wyfe dwellyd, they toke awey all oure godes
mevabyll that we had, and there wolde have hongyd my wyfe and v of my
chyldren, and lefte her no more gode but her kyrtyll and her smook. And
a none aftyr that hurlyng, the Bysshop Roffe apechyd me to the Quene,
and so I was arrestyd by the Quenes commaundment in to the Marchalsy,
and there was in ryght grete durasse, and fere of myn lyf, and was
thretenyd to have ben hongyd, drawen, and quarterud; and so wold have
made me to have pechyd my Maister Fastolf of treson. And by cause that
I wolde not, they had me up to Westminster, and there wolde have sent
me to the gole house at Wyndsor; but my wyves and j coseyn of myn noune
that were yomen of the Croune, they went to the Kyng, and got grase and
j chartyr of pardon.”
The Civil Wars and the part taken by the City belong to the history of
the nation, and may be briefly dismissed in these pages. The City began
with loyalty to the King. He was the son of their hero and darling, the
Victor of Agincourt; and he was the grandson of their own King whom
they themselves had brought over and set upon the throne. These two
considerations outweighed all others, even the disasters in France,
the miserable condition to which the country had been brought, and
the weakness of the King. Meantime the long-deferred birth of a son
strengthened the loyalty of all Lancastrians. The poverty of the City
at this time is proved by the fact that when, in 1453, an assessment of
half a fifteenth was made, eleven out of the twenty-five wards were in
default. After the battle of St. Albans, 22nd May 1455, the Duke of
York brought the King to London and lodged him in the Bishop’s Palace,
St. Paul’s Churchyard.
There were no Jews to bait and murder, but there were the Lombard
money-lenders. On two occasions there were riots between the mercers
and the Lombards. After the first, two of the Lombards were hanged.
They threatened to retire from the City altogether, but remained and
suffered another attack a year later for which twenty-eight mercers
were committed to prison. The internal dissensions were followed by the
inevitable consequences, of diminished trade, the appearance of pirates
in the Channel, and the descent of the French upon the coasts. They
plundered Sandwich, for instance, and captured thirty ships. Thereupon
the City raised a small force of 2000 men and fitted out ships for them.
The unhappy reign of Henry draws to a close. In 1458 the King tried to
effect a reconciliation between the two rival sections of the nobility,
and called a conference to meet in St. Paul’s. Warwick attended with
a following of 600 men in his livery; the Duke of York and the Earl
of Salisbury were received in the City; the young Duke of Warwick and
others of the opposite factions were kept outside. And still further to
prevent disorder, the Mayor kept a guard of 3000 men in readiness to
stand by the Aldermen in case of a disturbance.
The conference was held, and the reconciliation was effected; a solemn
service with a procession was held in the Cathedral. Six months later
the war broke out again.
Early in 1460 the King issued a commission to the Mayor, Aldermen, and
Sheriffs for collecting men and arms to resist the Duke of York. The
order was received with jealousy as threatening the City liberties, but
the King explained that no such attack was intended. In February the
masters and wardens were ordered to look to their arms and their men
in view of the dangers threatening the City. In June the Yorkist Lords
made a descent on Sandwich, and marched upon London. The City hurriedly
placed itself in a position for defence. There was a great show of
resistance; the rebel Lords were not to be admitted; they were to keep
at a certain distance from the City; then a letter was received from
the Earl of Warwick, and, no one knows why, the gates were thrown open
and the Lords were admitted.
They proceeded to starve the garrison of the Tower into surrender. Lord
Scales, the governor, attempted to reach Westminster by boat in order
to take refuge in Sanctuary. He was discovered by the Thames watermen
and murdered. After the Battle of Northampton, Henry was brought into
London as prisoner. In October of the same year, 1460, the Duke of York
declared his right to the Crown, and the struggle was no longer between
rival sections of nobles, but between the King and the Claimant.
After the Second Battle of St. Albans, the Queen ordered provisions
to be sent to her at St. Albans from London, but the mob stopped the
carts. Margaret moved her troops farther north. Then Edward and the
Earl of Warwick were admitted within the walls, London was lost to the
Lancastrians, and the first half of the Wars of the Roses was at an end.
[Illustration: HANDWRITING IN AN ENGLISH CHARTER, 1457 A.D.
(and fully to be endid, payinge yerely the seid—
successours in hand halfe yere afore that is—
next suyinge xxiij s iiij d by even_e_ porciou_n_s.)]
CHAPTER XII
EDWARD IV
[Illustration: EDWARD IV. (1442-1483)]
The reign of Edward IV., who had now become, as he remained to the end,
the most popular of kings in the City of London, presents a record
of continual agitation and excitement. He stayed first at Baynard’s
Castle, where he began his reign by hanging an unfortunate grocer of
Cheapside, trading under the sign of the “Crown,” for saying that his
son was heir to the crown. Of course Walker must have said more than
that. There were Lancastrians still among the citizens. One could
hardly hang a man for making a feeble pun. His remarks were probably
seditious and disrespectful to Edward’s title. From the death of
Richard II. to the accession of Henry VIII. all the English kings were
extremely sensitive as to the strength and reality of their titles.
The news from the north of the siege of Carlisle would not allow
the King to be crowned at once as was intended. A week after the
Proclamation he started hurriedly for the north to meet Henry, to whom
he gave battle at Towton. The result of the stubborn contest was the
defeat of Henry, who with the Queen and his son Prince Edward and such
of the Lords as were left, fled into Scotland. Edward stayed awhile to
set things in order and then rode south. He was welcomed by the Mayor
and Aldermen and five hundred citizens at Lambeth on 27th July, and was
escorted to the Tower, whence on the 29th—the 28th day of each month
was accounted unlucky—he rode to Westminster and was crowned with due
ceremony.
In the second year of his reign he granted a Charter to the City in
which he confirmed all past privileges and liberties. The Mayor,
Recorder, and Aldermen past the chair, were appointed perpetual
justices as long as they continued to be Aldermen. They were also
constituted justices of _Oyer and Terminer_ for the trying of all
malefactors within their jurisdiction; they were exempt from serving
on Juries or on Foreign Assizes, and from having to undertake certain
offices; they were empowered to hold a Fair in the Borough of
Southwark; and they received certain other privileges connected with
waifs, strays, and treasure trove. Three other Charters were granted by
Edward. All of them will be found in the Appendix.
The year 1463 was taken up by another campaign in the north, with
sieges of castles, and with the usual crop of treasures, perjuries,
arrests, and beheadings. Surely there was never any war or contest more
disgraced by change of sides, broken oaths, and villainies, than this
War of the Roses.
Edward returned to London in February 1463, and was received by a
procession of barges. It has been observed, doubtless, that the
mediæval citizens were at all times perfectly regardless of the season:
they had a Riding in January, a Coronation in December, a water
procession in February quite as happily as in July or August. Yet it is
very certain that the climate was as capricious and as uncertain then
as now.
In 1464 the King married secretly Elizabeth, the young widow of Sir
John Grey, and daughter of Lord Rivers. The Queen was crowned in May
1465. In the same year the unfortunate King Henry was taken prisoner,
and brought to the Tower of London. At this point we may take up
the somewhat tangled story of Alderman Coke. In the early years of
King Edward’s reign Coke was treated with special favour by the
King. Other Aldermen were made plain Knights. Coke was made a Knight
of the Bath. He had a town-house and a country seat, Gidea Hall in
Essex. It was this Coke who, when he was made Lord Mayor, finding at
an entertainment that the most honourable seat at the table, which
belonged to himself, had been taken by the Lord High Treasurer, refused
to sit down at all, and with the Aldermen and the citizens retired to
his own house, where he gave a dinner.
Coke in 1465 was impeached of treason. What kind of treason? Gregory
says that many men both of London and of other towns were also
impeached. Treason was everywhere. Every man’s dearest friend conspired
against him. When one sees the things that were done by great lords we
may believe the charges against the merchants. The times, moreover,
were doubtful. It behoved men who were afraid of losing their
substance, if not their heads, to be ready at any moment for a change.
Therefore Alderman Sir Thomas Coke, K.C.B., may very well have carried
on treasonable correspondence with the other side. He was arrested,
released on bail, arrested again, his effects seized, and his wife
committed to the care of the Lord Mayor. He was acquitted, but in
spite of his acquittal he was sent to the Bread Street Compter, and
thence to the King’s Bench, and there kept till he paid £8000 to the
King, and £800 to the Queen. Moreover, the servants of Lord Rivers had
pillaged his house in Essex, destroyed the deer in his park, killed his
rabbits and his fish, carried off all his brass and his pewter, and
Lord Rivers obtained the dismissal of the judge who acquitted him. When
Henry VI. was restored Coke had his property restored, but on power
being regained by Edward, he fled. He was caught, imprisoned, and then
pardoned, with everybody else concerned. Coke is an ancestor both of
Sir Francis Bacon and the Marquis of Salisbury.
In a few years the proverbial instability of fortune was again
illustrated, together with the wisdom—the cunning of a fox—of keeping
in with both parties. It was Edward’s lavish gifts to the Queen’s
brothers and cousins, and his neglect of the few great nobles left,
that caused the next disturbances. The defection of Warwick, and the
Rebellion of Lincolnshire, hardly belong to London history. But it
must be recorded that the rebels reached Charing Cross, that they
found in the “Palace called the Mews” Lord Rivers and his son, whom
they beheaded, and that they captured the King. Edward, however, found
means to escape and reached London, where he was received with loyal
assurances. And so the war began again, as may be read in the History
of England.
On October the 1st, Edward fled to Scotland where he was certain to
find safety at least. The Queen, then enceinte, took refuge in the
Sanctuary. The Tower of London was surrendered to the Mayor, who held
it until the arrival of Warwick and Clarence. But Henry was removed
from his prison to the State apartments. There appears to have been no
order maintained or attempted in the City during these distractions.
Every man made haste to change his side, and the caps that had been
tossed up for Edward now darkened the sky for Henry with equal zeal.
There was a rising of the City rabble, headed by one Sir Geoffrey
Gates, whose character is vaguely summed up by Maitland in the words,
“of abandoned principles.” The mob, under his leading, spoiled the
foreign merchants—Lombards, Flemings, and others—and then, probably
having met with some resistance, they got over to Southwark, where they
robbed, burned, and destroyed and ravished through all the Borough,
together with St. Catherine’s, Limehouse, and Ratcliffe, the City not
attempting anything until the arrival of Warwick, when the mob was
dispersed and the ringleaders hanged.
[Illustration: SHIPS OF THE PERIOD
From MS. in Brit. Mus. Reg. 15, Ed. IV.]
Henry was once more a King, and lodged in the Bishop’s Palace. The
Parliament, summoned in haste, met in St. Paul’s Chapter House and
called Edward a usurper. But the Mayor took care to be sick and
confined to his bed. Coke occupied his place, which seems to increase
the probability of that alleged treason. The restoration of the
unfortunate Henry lasted for six months. In April, Edward entered
London again with the customary rejoicings, sallied forth immediately,
met Warwick at Barnet, defeated and slew him, and returned for more
rejoicings and in order to lead Henry clad in a long gown like a
bedesman back to the Tower, and then marched into the west, where
Tewkesbury witnessed the final destruction of the Lancastrian cause.
Then followed, as concerns London, the gallant attempt of the captain
known as the Bastard of Falconbridge. We may look upon this leader
as a freebooter and as a pirate, or we may look upon him as a loyal
and faithful follower of Warwick. From either point of view it is a
striking episode in the history of the time as well as the history of
London. Moreover, it is one of the few early recorded appearances of
the English sailor.
Thomas, the Bastard of Falconbridge, was an illegitimate son of William
Nevill, Lord Falconbridge or Falconberg, Earl of Kent, and brother of
the Earl of Warwick. He had received the freedom of the City in the
year 1454, seventeen years before his attempt. (Sharpe, _London and
the Kingdom_.) This distinction was in recognition of his services in
connection with the destruction of pirates at the mouth of the Thames.
As for his age, if he were about twenty-five at that time, he would be
about forty when he led his men to the siege of London. He was by no
means an unknown or an obscure person. The Earl of Warwick[4] had made
him Vice-Admiral of the Sea, “so that none should pass from Calais to
Dover for the succour of Edward,” a post of no mean responsibility.
Then, Grafton tells us, being driven into need and poverty, he became
a pirate, and through his robbery and “shameful spoyling” got together
a great navy of ships. We need not believe in the piracy; he probably
held the navy for the Earl of Warwick, for whom he seems to have had a
sailor-like fidelity. Nor is there anything to show need and poverty.
Hearing, however, that his patron was again in the field, the Bastard
resolved on striking a blow for him. He landed, therefore, on the
coast of Kent and raised a large force of Kentishmen, who seem to have
forgiven Henry for his perfidy in the Cade business and now joined the
stout-hearted sailor who called himself Captain of King Henry’s people
in Kent. He was not therefore a rebel, he was a soldier on the side
of the Red Rose. He sent his ships up the Thames with orders to await
his coming in the Pool off Blackwall; and with 17,000 men he marched
through Kent and appeared before the gates of London Bridge. He wrote
to the Mayor from Blackheath asking for permission to pass through
the City, promising that no violence would be committed by any of his
men. What the ships were to do meanwhile does not appear. It looks,
however, very much like an attempt to seize the City. It is certain,
further, that he had not received the news of Barnet, or of the death
of his illustrious cousin. The Battle of Barnet was fought on 13th
April. News could certainly reach the City on the same day, within two
or three hours. But it was very possible that in those disturbed times,
the ordinary channels of communication being broken off, the news
might not reach Kent for some weeks. However that may be, or whenever
Falconbridge heard of it, he did not know of Warwick’s death when he
began to levy his men.
[4] In 1462 the Earl of Warwick was Lord High Admiral, in the
following year his brother the Earl of Kent succeeded him, in the same
year he was superseded in favour of the Duke of Gloucester; in 1470
Warwick was again Admiral, in 1471 Richard succeeded him.
[Illustration: THE BASTARD OF FALCONBRIDGE ATTACKS LONDON BRIDGE
From a MS. in the University Library, Ghent.]
Sharpe has found both Falconbridge’s letter and the Mayor’s reply in
the archives of the City. The latter stated that he might possibly hold
a commission for the Earl of Warwick, but that the Earl of Warwick was
dead, slain on the field of Barnet together with his brother Montague.
That further, since that battle, another, that of Tewkesbury, had been
fought a week before (this was May 11, and Tewkesbury was fought on
May 4), of which they had certain information from their own runners:
that “Sir Edward,” the son of Henry VI., was killed after that battle.
They therefore exhorted this Captain to disband his forces and to
acknowledge King Edward IV. But as for passing through the City they
were determined he should not do so. The Bastard professed not to
believe that Warwick and Prince Edward were dead; perhaps he really
did not believe it. In what followed, however, he certainly showed the
intention of making himself master of the City if he could, and the
Mayor evidently understood this to be his intention, for he proceeded
to fortify the river bank, which, the wall having been long since
taken down, was now accessible at fifty points by stairs and narrow
alleys and courts leading from Thames Street to the river. The City
had not been threatened with an attack from the river since the time
of King Canute. The details of the fight which followed are very
scanty. Falconbridge landed some of his men—three or four thousand—at
St. Katherine’s, and attempted a simultaneous attack on Bishopsgate,
Aldgate, the riverside, and London Bridge. Fabyan says that they shot
guns and arrows and fired the gates, but nevertheless they seem to
have effected nothing in their attack from the river; at Aldgate they
actually got in, but the portcullis was dropped and none of them got
out again. Robert Basset, the valiant Alderman of Aldgate Ward, was
conspicuous for his courage on this occasion. He drove back the Kentish
men, put them to flight and killed three hundred of them in their
endeavours to reach their boats at Blackwall. Meantime, Falconbridge
with the main body of his men was trying to fight his way across London
Bridge. They lost heart on hearing of the repulse at Aldgate and fled,
being pursued as far as Deptford, a great number being slain. Ralph
Jocelyn, late Mayor, was in command of the citizens; he, too, like
Robert Basset, performed prodigies of valour. Many of the men were
taken prisoners and held for ransom “as they had been Frenchmen,”
says Fabyan. The rising was treated as a rebellion, a good many being
executed for their share in it. The Captain got on board ship and
on the following night dropped down the river with his fleet and so
escaped. At Sandwich he fortified himself, for, as he had 47 ships
and 800 men, he was strong enough to dictate his own terms—pardon for
himself and his men, in return for which he was ready to deliver the
ships into the hands of the King. Edward accepted, and the Bastard did
deliver up his ships. Six months later, we hear that he was captured
at Southampton; and, one knows not on what pretence, they beheaded
him. What are we to call the Bastard, pirate or patriot? Henry was
still living, though his very hours were now numbered, for on Edward’s
return—he had been brought back—it was announced that he was dead,
having met with nothing but care and sorrow during the whole of his
most wretched life. Gloucester—not of course Humphrey, but Richard—is
said to have killed him; but then Gloucester is said to have killed
everybody; tradition makes him a universal murderer. At the same time,
as everybody else belonging to the Lancastrian party was killed, there
seems a sort of rounding off and completion of the work by the murder
of Henry. The fight happening so soon after Tewkesbury as to appear
uninfluenced by that event, was a splendid example of the City loyalty.
What the Mayor would have done had Tewkesbury gone the other way, it is
impossible to say. Loyalty, fidelity, honour, truth, in the Wars of the
Roses never survived defeat. They were, however, hugely encouraged by
a victory. And when Edward rode back to London he heard with pleasure
that while he had smitten his enemies in the West of England, his loyal
City, his “Chamber,” had bravely rid him of all that were left in the
South.
The Battle of London Bridge is recounted in a contemporary ballad:—
“In Sothwerke, at Bambere heth, and Kyngston eke,
The Bastarde and his meane in the contre abowte,
Many grett men in London they made seke,
Man, wyff, ne childe there durst non rowte,
Oxin, shepe, and vetayle, withowtyn any dowte,
They stale away and carrid ever to and froo.
God suffirs moche thyng, his wille to be doo.
Moche sorow and shame the wrecchis thay wroughte,
Fayre placis they brend on the water side.
Thayre myschevus dedis avaylid ham noughte,
Schamfully thay wrougte, and so them betyd.
Thay wolde not leve ther malice, but therin abyde,
Thay cryed kynge Edward and Warwicke also.
Thus the wille of God in every thynge is doo.
At Londone brygge they made asawte, sham to see,
The utter gate on the brygge thay sett on fyre;
Into Londone shott arrows withowte pete.
With gunnus thay were bett that sum lay in the myre.
Thay asked wage of the brygge, thay paid them thayre hire
Ever amonge thay had the worse, then wakynd thaire woo,
False men most be poyneshed, the will of God is soo.
At London brige anodyr sawte thay made agayne,
Wyth gunpowdir and wildefire and straw eke;
Fro the gate to the drawbrygge that brent down playne,
That x myle men mygte se the smeke.
Thay were not of thayre entent the nere of a leke
For into the cite they mygte not com for a wele ne for woo;
God restid thayre malice, the wille of hym was soo.
At Alegate thay sawtid in an ill seasoun;
Thay brente fayre howsis, pitie was to se.
Thus these false men did opyne tresoun,
Supposynge evermore to enture into cite.
God and good seyntes thereof had pitie.
Thayre malice was sesid and turned hem to woo
Thus in everythynge, Lorde, thy will be doo.
The erle of Esex, and also the aldurmen,
At Bysshopus gate togedder they mette,
And owte therat sewde like manly men.
Thay bete hem down, no man mygte hem lett;
Freshely on thayre enmyes that day did thay fyghte.
Thayre false treson brougte theym in woo;
Thus in every thynge, Lorde, thy wille be doo.
The erle Revers, that gentill knygte,
Blessid be the tym that he borne was
By the power of God and his great mygte,
Throw his enmyes that day did he passe.
The maryners were kellid, thay cryed ‘Alas!’
Thayre false tresoun brougte hem in woo,
Thus in every thynge, Lorde, thy wille be doo.”
(_Political Poems and Songs, Ed. III.—Rich. III._, p. 277;
edited by Thomas Wright.)
These tumults appeased, and the Civil Wars apparently ended, the City
got itself to work upon a question of morals.
William Hampton, Mayor in 1473, hit upon a notable device of terrifying
evil-doers. Until then, one pair of stocks had been considered
sufficient for the whole City. Hampton set up a pair in every Ward.
He also hunted out the women of loose conduct; “he corrected”—_i.e._
flogged—
“strumpets and causyd them to be ladde aboute the towne with raye
hoodes upon their heddes divers and many; and spared none for mede nor
for favour, that were by the law atteynted, notwithstanding that he
might have taken xl pounds of redy money to hym offerid for to have
spared one from that jugment.” (Fabyan.)
Henry’s remains lay in state at St. Paul’s and at Blackfriars. It was
necessary that people should understand that he was really dead and
out of the way. They were then carried to Chertsey where they were
buried. Edward knighted all the Aldermen. Sharpe gives the list, in
which one is grieved to find neither Robert Basset nor Ralph Jocelyn.
In the year 1475 by an Act of Common Council the election of the
Mayor was ordered to be made henceforth by the Mayor, Aldermen,
Common-Councilmen, and Liverymen of the City. And so it has remained
ever since. Only while the City gave the election to the Liverymen it
included all those who had the freedom of the City, excluding any other
residents, tenants, foreigners, great Lords, or their followers. The
house called “Gildhalla Teutonicorum,” the Steelyard, was in this year
granted to the Hanseatic League. The history of this house will be
considered separately.
Two more charters were obtained from the King. One granted permission
to hold lands in mortmain to a limited extent: the other gave the
City the privilege of package, portage, garbling of spices, gauging,
wine-drawing, etc., a charter of a commercial and technical kind.
As for the rest of the acts of King Edward they concern not much the
City of London. He entertained the Mayor and Aldermen at a hunt; he
also sent the Lady Mayoress six fat bucks and a tun of wine, of which
they made a great feast at Drapers’ Hall; he murdered his brother, the
Duke of Clarence; he invaded France and came back again;—one must needs
speak of his mistress, Jane Shore;—and he borrowed a great deal of
money which he did not repay.
The history of the King’s mistresses should hardly claim a place
in the history of London. There are, however, one or two of these
favourites who, in some way inexplicable, have captured the imagination
of the people, and have won their sympathies. Why do we think more of
Jane Shore than of Alice Perrers? Why, out of the long list of frail
beauties about the court of Charles II., do we fix our eyes upon Nell
Gwynne and neglect the rest? Certain it is that, not only in her own
lifetime but also long afterwards, Jane Shore was remembered with
kindliness and pity. Everybody knows her story: she was the wife of a
London citizen, a goldsmith; she attracted the attention of the man who
is commonly believed to have been the handsomest man in the country,
as he was certainly the most dissolute. If, however, the portrait
of Edward IV. in the possession of the Society of Antiquaries is to
be trusted, his beauty did not lie in his face; it must have been
his stature and his strength which gave him this reputation. When he
died, Jane Shore, whose husband had cast her off, fell into the power
of Hastings or of the Marquis of Dorset. When Hastings was beheaded,
Richard endeavoured to convict her of witchcraft, probably he had some
private reason for personal malice against Jane Shore. This attempt
failing, he accused her of unchastity, which was not to be denied.
She was taken to the Bishop’s Palace there clothed in a white sheet,
a wax taper was placed in her hand, and she was led to the Cathedral
beside the Palace, where she offered the taper, and to Paul’s Cross,
where she made confession of her sins. One is glad to think that the
poor creature had so short a distance to walk in this deplorable guise.
Some, as Stow says, may think this woman “too slight a thing” to be
written of: yet who can read the words of the grave Sir Thomas More,
and still think so? And one cannot read the words of Stow himself
without feeling that it was no common woman who could thus draw all
hearts to her; who could leave behind her the memory of so many good
deeds; who expiated a youth of such splendid sin by an old age of such
terrible poverty and neglect.
Here are the words of Sir Thomas More:—
“Her stature was mean: her hair of a dark yellow, her face round
and full, her eye grey, delicate harmony being betwixt each part’s
proportion, and each proportion’s colour; her body fat, white, and
smooth; her countenance cheerful, and like to her condition. That
picture which I have seen of her, was such as she rose out of her bed
in the morning, having nothing on but a rich mantle, cast under her
arm, over her shoulder, and sitting in a chair on which her naked arm
did lie. What her father’s name was, or where she was born, is not
certainly known: but Shore, a young man of right goodly person, wealth,
and behaviour, abandoned her bed, after the King had made her his
concubine.”
And, next, hear Stow:—“This woman was borne in London, worshipfully
friended, honestly brought up, and very well married, saving somewhat
too soone, hir husband an honest citizen, yong and godly, and of good
substance. But for as much as they were coupled ere they were wel ripe,
she not very fervently loved, for whom she never longed, which was
happily the thing that the more easily made hir incline unto the King’s
appetite, when he required hir. Howbeit the respect of his royaltie,
the hope of gay apparell, ease, pleasure, and other wanton wealth, was
able soone to pierce a soft tender heart.
But when the King had abused hir, anone hir husband (as he was an
honest man) left hir up to him altogether.
When the King died, the Lord Chamberlain tooke hyr, which in the King’s
dayes, albeit he was sore enamoured upon hir, yet he forebare hir,
eyther for reverence, or for a certain friendly faythfulnesse. Proper
she was and fayre: nothing in hir bodie that you would have chaunged,
but if you would have wished hir somewhat higher.
Thus say they that knewe hir in hir youth. Albeit some that nowe see
hir (for yet she liveth) deeme hir never to have bene wel visaged,
whose judgement seemeth me somewhat like as though men should gesse
the beautie of one long before departed, by her scalpe taken out of
the charnelhouse: so now is she olde, leane, withered, and dryed up,
nothing left but riveled skin and hard bone. And yet being even such:
who so wil advise her visage, might gesse and devise, which parts how
filled would make it a faire face. Yet delited not men so much in her
beautie, as in her pleasant behaviour. For a proper wit had she, and
coulde both reade well and write, merrie in companye, readie and quicke
of aunswere, neyther mute nor full of bable, sometime taunting without
displeasure, and not without disporte.
The King would say that he had three concubines, which in their diverse
properties diversly excelled. One the merriest, another the wyliest,
the third the holyest harlot in his realme, as one whom no man could
get out of the Church lightly to any place, but it were to his bed. The
other two were somewhat greater personages, and nathelesse of their
humility content to be namelesse, and to forbeare the praise of those
properties. But the meriest was this Shors wife, in whom the King
therefore took special pleasure. For many he had but hir he loved,
whose favour to saye the truth (for sinne it were to belie the Devil)
she never abused to any man’s hurt, but to manye a mannes comforte
and relief: where the Kyng tooke displeasure, she would mitigate and
appease his mynde: where men were out of favour she woulde brynge them
in his grace. For manye that hadde highlye offended shee obtayned
pardon. Of great forfeytures she gat men remission. And finally, in
many weightie sutes she stoode many men in great steade, eyther for
none or very small rewardes, and those rather gaye than riche: eyther
for that she was content with the deed selfe well done, or for that
shee delyted to bee sued unto, and to shewe what she was able to doe
with the King, for what wanton women and wealthy be not always covetous.
I doubt not some shall thinke this woman too sleyghte a thing to be
written of, and set among the remembrances of great matters: whych
they shall specially thinke, that happilye shall esteem hir onely by
that they nowe see hir. But me seemeth the chaunce so muche the more
worthy to be remembered, in how much she is nowe in the most beggerlye
condition, unfriended and worn out of acquaintance, after good
substance, after as great favour with the Prince, after as greate sute
and seekyng to with all those that those dayes had businesse to speede,
as many other men were in theyr tymes, which be now famous only by the
infamye of theyr yl dedes. Hir doings wer not much lesse albeit they
be much lesse remembered because they were not so evil. For men use if
they have an evill turne to write it in Marble; and who so doeth us a
good turne, we write it in duste, whiche is not worst proved by hir:
for at this day she beggeth of manye at thys daye lyving, that at this
day had begged if she had not bin.”
[Illustration: “THE HIERARCHY OF THE SCIENCES,” AS CONCEIVED BY
MEDIÆVAL THOUGHT
From the Berri Bible in British Museum. Harl. 1585.]
It will be observed that Stow speaks of Jane Shore as living at the
time he wrote. She was born about 1450; and she became mistress of
Edward IV. about 1470; the King died in 1483, when she became the
mistress of the first Marquis of Dorset for a short time. She was
imprisoned in the Tower on a charge of sorcery, her goods were seized
and sold, she did penance as above described, she was imprisoned in
Ludgate, she fell into poverty and she lived to an advanced age, dying,
it is supposed, about the year 1526, at the age of seventy-five or six.
Seeing Stow was born in 1525 how can he speak of Jane Shore as living
at the time he wrote? He is obviously quoting some older writer. Sir
Thomas More, who was born in 1478, and died in 1535, was five years of
age when Jane Shore did penance; he could hardly remember the event,
even if he saw it. Nor could the unfortunate woman retain much of her
early beauty when More was of an age to observe and to compare. At
the same time he probably knew plenty of people who could remember the
London beauty in her pride, and in the full flow of her generosity and
wit and grace.
The funeral of Edward was celebrated with great splendour. The
following account is taken from _Archæologia_, vol. i.:—
“But when that noble prince the good King Edward the iiiith was
deceased, at Westminster in his paleys, which was the 5th day of April,
the xxiii yer of his reign:
First, the corps was leyde upon a borde all naked, saving he was
covered from the navell to the knees, and so lay openly X or XII
hourez, that all the lordes both spirituell and temporell then beying
in London or ner theraboute, and the meyer of London with his bredre
sawe hym so lyng, and then he was sered etc. and was brought into the
chapell on the morn after, when wer songen iii solemn massez: first
of our Lady songe by the chapeleyn: and so was the second of the
courte: the iiide masse of Requiem whiche was songen by the bishop of
Chichester, and at afternoon ther was songen dirige and commendacion.
After that he had the hole psalter seid by the chapell, and at nyght
well wecched with nobles and oder his servants, whose names ensuen
like an apperethe in the watche rolle from the first nyght in tyme he
was beryed. And at the masse of Requiem the lorde Dacre, the queen’s
chambreleyn, offred for the quene, and the lordes temporell offred
dayly at that seid masse, but the lordez spirituells offred not to
the bishop but to the high auter, and oder the King’s servants offred
also: this ordre was kept in the paleys viii dayez, savinge after the
first daye ther was but on solemp masse, whiche alway was songen by
a bishop: and on Wednysday the xvii day of the monyth, the corps was
convenied into the abbey born by divers knyghts and esquires that wer
for his body: having upon the corps a riche and a large blak cloth
of gold with a crosse of white cloth of gold, and above that a riche
canapye of cloth imperiall frenged with gold and blue silk. And at
every corner a baner. And the Lord Howard ber the King’s baner next
before the corps, having the officers of armez aboute them. Wher was
ordeyned a worthy herse like as it apperteyneth, having before hym a
grete procession. And in that herse, above the corps and the cloth of
gold abovesaid, ther was a personage like to the similitude of the king
in habite roiall, crowned with the verray crown on his hed. Holding in
that one hande a sceptr, and in that other hand a balle of silver and
gilte with a crosplate. And after that the lordes that wer within the
herse, and the bisshoppez had offred, the meyer of London offred, and
next after hym the chef juge and other juges and knyghts of the Kings
hous with the barons of the eschequier and aldermen of London as they
myght went to. And when the masse was don and all other solempnite, and
that the lordes wer redy for to ryde: ther was ordeyned a roiall char
covered with blak velvet, having about that a blak clothe of gold with
a white cross of gold: under that a mageste clothe of blak sarsenet,
drawen with vi coursers trapped with blac velvet with certeyn scochens
betyn upon sarsenet betyn with fyne gold. Apon the fore hors and the
third hors sate ii charet men. And on the iiii oder hors satte iiii
henchemen. On either side the for seid draught went divers knyghts
and esquiers for the body and other: some leying their handez to the
draught and some leyding the hors unto tyme they passed the townes
whose namez ensuen.
And the Lorde Haward, the Kings banerer, rode next before the
forschorse bering the Kings baner upon a courser trapped with blak
velvet with divers scochons of the Kings armez with his morenyng hudd
on his hed. When the corps with the personage as above with procession
of bishoppes in pontificalibz and the iiii ordrez of frerez was
conveyed to the chare. And in ordre as above to Charingcrosse wher
the bishops sensed the char, and the lordes toke their horse, and so
proceded to Syon that nyght, where at the churche dore the bishoppes
censed the corps, etc., the corps and the personage was born as before
in the qure. And ther the bishop of Duresm did the service. And on the
morn in like ordre as above he was conveyed to the chare, and from
thens to Wyndesore.”
CHAPTER XIII
RICHARD III
On the death of Edward IV., the Duke of Gloucester made haste to seize
upon the Prince, his elder son, then a boy of thirteen, on his way from
Ludlow Castle to Westminster.
[Illustration: RICHARD III. (1452-1485)
After the painting in Windsor Castle.]
The City thereupon began to busy itself about the Coronation Festival.
The civic procession was already organised (Sharpe, _London and the
Kingdom_, i. 319). The City Fathers were to meet the young King who
would come into the City: they were to be arrayed in gowns of scarlet,
their attendants, including five sergeants at mace belonging to the
Mayor and nineteen belonging to the Sheriffs, would have gowns of pied
de lyon colour: the sword-bearer with four hundred and ten persons,
forming a deputation from the guilds, were to have gowns of murrey. The
riding out duly took place: the procession met the young King and the
Duke of Gloucester at Hornsey and rode back with them to the Tower.
That same day the Queen-mother with her younger son took sanctuary
again at Westminster.
Gloucester took up his quarters at Crosby House or Hall, which still
remains though greatly altered. The house was built by Sir Thomas
Crosby, Grocer and Woolman, in the year 1466, on a piece of land
belonging to St. Helen’s Nunnery, let to him by Alice Ashfield,
Prioress, for ninety-nine years. Sir John Crosby cleared away the
tenements which covered the spot, together with the poor people who
lived in them, and built this palace, where he died in 1475. When the
long lease expired there was no nunnery left to claim the ground.
[Illustration:
_Grove and Boulton._
NORTH-EAST VIEW OF CROSBY HALL
INTERIOR OF THE COUNCIL ROOM, CROSBY HALL]
What follows belongs to the history of England. Yet it must be briefly
narrated for the part taken in these events by the City. Gloucester
began by executing without trial and without law Lord Hastings, the
most powerful friend of the young King, on a trumped-up charge of
conspiracy. He then called the Mayor and Aldermen to the Tower and gave
them his version of the business. For himself the execution served his
purposes: it removed an obstacle and it proclaimed his power. He next
issued a proclamation as to the treason of Hastings, whom he connected
with the notorious and unbridled incontinency of the late King. He then
courted the City favour by bestowing honours on the City magistrates.
London has always been open to flattery by royal distinctions. He made
the Mayor a Privy Councillor. This drew to his side, one may suppose,
not only the Mayor himself, but some of the Aldermen, with the Mayor’s
brother, Dr. Shaw, a celebrated preacher. It was arranged that Shaw,
who was to preach on the following Sunday at Paul’s Cross, should
open the subject of the succession. The subject and the matter of the
sermon were obviously agreed upon beforehand. The sermon is “reported”
in More’s _Life of Edward V_. If his account of it be true then Shaw
must have been one of the most brazen liars then living. His text was
taken from the Book of Wisdom, and it showed at the outset what line
the sermon would take. The words “Bastard slips shall take no deep
root.” He said that the late King having promised marriage to the Lady
Elizabeth Lucy before she would consent to her own dishonour, and
having had a child by her, was already married to her—yet a Catholic
Priest knew very well that there is no marriage except that which is
celebrated by the Church: that his marriage with Elizabeth Woodville
was therefore null and void, and that his children by Elizabeth were
illegitimate. Therefore, of course, they could not succeed.
Next, neither the late King, nor his late brother, the Duke of
Clarence, nor, consequently, the son of Clarence, had any right to the
throne because, as was well known—the allegation may have had some
slight foundation in scandals and gossip but could not be known to the
citizens,—their mother, the late Duchess of York, was an adulteress,
and these two Princes were the children of a certain person about the
Duke of York’s Court. “But,” he cried, “in ancestry my Lord Protector,
that noble Prince, the Pattern of all Virtuous and Heroic Actions,
carried in his Air and in his Mien and in his Soul the perfect Image of
his illustrious father the Great Duke of York.”
According to some Gloucester was to have appeared at this point as if
by accident, but he did not come. Either he mistook the time, or he was
hindered, or his mind misgave him, or news came to Baynard’s Castle,
which was no more than five minutes’ distance, that the people were
cold and quiet. If this account be true, the _coup_ was missed. It is,
however, stated by Fabyan that the Duke of Gloucester, accompanied by
Buckingham and other Lords, was present during the sermon which branded
his mother as an adulteress. One would willingly believe that Fabyan
was wrong. In what follows, one hopes that he was right. For he tells
us that Dr. Shaw never ceased to feel the agonies of remorse for this
sermon, which helped to bring death upon two innocent boys, and that
he died shortly afterwards. Next, the Mayor and Aldermen, the Common
Council, and the principal citizens, were summoned to Guildhall to hear
the Duke of Buckingham on affairs of State. The City was in silent
surprise: most men knew, or feared, what was coming. The Princes in
the Tower; sanctuary broken and by order of the Archbishop; Hastings
executed; Shaw proclaiming the illegitimacy of the Princes and their
father; what but one thing could these actions mean? The citizens
assembled, however, in silence: and in silence they stood while
Buckingham, in a long oration, endeavoured to bring them round to the
point which he desired. If it be reported truly, or only in substance,
as he delivered it, the speech must be accounted a remarkable effort.
Unfortunately, it must be considered as apocryphal, as the speeches
in history usually are. As it is reported, however, he attacked the
morals of the King, his lewdness and incontinency, which was easy;
he asked them to remember the many cruelties of his reign, which was
also easy—but Edward was no more revengeful or bloodthirsty than his
enemies; he recalled the bloodshed and slaughter through which he had
climbed to the throne, the heavy taxes he had imposed—in which he
compared favourably with his predecessors; he repeated the calumnies
and statements of Dr. Shaw; he showed—which was the most moving
argument of all—the miseries of having a child for King. “Vae Regno
cujus Rex puer est!” What sufferings had the realm endured through the
long minority of Henry VI.! Finally, he called upon them in impassioned
terms to proclaim Richard, Duke of Gloucester, lawful King of England.
No one replied: the citizens stood in cold silence. The Duke repeated
part of his speech: they still remained impassive. The Mayor suggested
that perhaps they resented an address from one who did not belong to
them: they expected to hear the voice of their Recorder. The Duke
therefore ordered their Recorder to speak to them, in accordance with
City usage. The Recorder did so, repeating the Duke’s own words. Yet
still the citizens remained silent. Buckingham thereupon told them
that their voice was not wanted in the matter at all: the succession
was already decided upon by the Lords. He had invited their voices as
a compliment to the City. They might, however, answer Yea or Nay—would
they have the Protector to reign over them? A few hats were thrown up
with the cry, King Richard! King Richard! upon which the Duke declared
that the citizens were unanimous, and retired. The day after, Richard,
being then at Baynard’s Castle and not at Crosby House, as is generally
supposed, received the Mayor and Aldermen, and, pretending it to be
much against his wish, accepted the proffered crown.
In the dead silence, neither of approval nor of dissent, which greeted
the Duke’s speech we may read anxiety, doubt, and even dismay. The
history of Henry III., of Richard II., of Henry VI., all cried aloud
the dangers that awaited a country whose King was a child. All the
rivers of blood, the destruction of noble houses, the loss of France,
the national humiliation, the waste of treasure, the ruin of trade, of
the last sixty years were caused by the feebleness of a child King,
and the dissensions of his guardians. Were all those troubles to be
begun again? It would seem so. We have seen a similar hesitation
with the Archbishops over the invasion of Sanctuary. Both Princes,
if the younger should join his brother in the Tower, would be most
certainly murdered; no one could doubt that; yet—yet—what were the
lives of these two boys compared with the chance of bringing peace
once more to this distracted country? I am, therefore, of opinion that
the Archbishops consented to the removal of the younger boy and the
violation of Sanctuary deliberately, and knowing full well beforehand
that the children would be murdered: yet feeling that the evils of a
long minority were far worse than the murder of two boys: and that a
strong King sitting on the throne, however he got there, was above all
things needed by the distracted and bleeding and impoverished country.
In the same way I am of opinion that in the City the nomination of
Richard was a thing agreed upon by the City—it certainly was agreed
upon—deliberately and perhaps unanimously, perhaps also in heaviness of
spirit—in order to prevent worse calamities.
After the defeat and death of Buckingham, Richard received a loyal
welcome from the City, together with a petition in which the citizens
boldly told him that they were resolved no longer to live in thraldom
and bondage, “oppressed and injured by extortions and new impositions
against the laws of God and man.” Richard received this protest
graciously, and passed a statute acknowledging that the exaction
of money under the name of a benevolence was unconstitutional. He
also pleased the City by forbidding alien merchants to have alien
apprentices. In 1484-85, when it was known that Henry Tudor would
attempt an invasion, the City presented the King first with the sum of
£2400 and afterwards with £2000. Thus assisted, Richard marched out of
London and met his enemy at Bosworth Field.
With the death of Richard we may fitly close the history of Mediæval
London. The City no longer stands in isolation surrounded by its grey
old walls: on the East and North suburbs are rising outside the walls:
along the roads stand inns and taverns and houses for half a mile
beyond the gates: Westminster is joined to London by a mile of Palaces
as well as by the river highway: the old danger that the City might
become another Venice—a state in itself—is gone: the other danger,
that it would be seized by any King and deprived of its liberties is
also gone. London was the chief town of the kingdom: the centre of the
Parliament: the centre of intellectual life. Its institutions were by
this time fully grown and fully formed.
PART II
SOCIAL AND GENERAL
CHAPTER I
GENERAL VIEW
[Illustration: SKETCH MAP OF LONDON IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY]
Let us go back to the fourteenth century; let us walk about London in
the reign of Edward III., great Captain and glorious Sovereign. Before
we enter the City we will first stand upon the wall and look out upon
the country outside. The wall itself, of Roman origin so far as the
foundation and the core, has been faced and refaced and repaired over
and over again. It is provided still, however, as in Roman times,
with round bastions about 250 feet apart. One of these bastions, much
rebuilt, overlooks, beyond the ditch, the church and churchyard of St.
Giles, Cripplegate; the towers, erected at irregular intervals, belong
to a period after the Romans. The wall is twenty-two feet high; the
height of the towers is forty feet.
The wall kept out the Danes in six successive sieges, it kept out Earl
Godwin in 1052.
[Illustration: THE WHITE TOWER]
The most important repairs which the wall has lately received are
those of the Barons in 1215, who, after entering the City by Aldgate,
breaking into the Jews’ houses, pillaging them of their valuables, and
taking away all their money, used the stones of their houses for the
repair of the gates and the wall. In the year 1257 Henry III. caused
the wall to be again repaired and strengthened. In 1282 the south-west
corner was shifted west in order to enclose the House of the Dominicans
lately removed from their old house in Holborn. This new part of the
wall rose along the bank of the Fleet. It was built, but very slowly,
by the Corporation. Once more, in 1328, the walls were repaired, and
again in 1386, when there was a scare about a French invasion, and the
citizens in great haste repaired the wall and the gates and cleared
out the ditch. The frequency of the repair seems to indicate bad and
slovenly work. In 1477 the wall was strengthened in many places. After
this, little or nothing seems to have been done for it.
The whole circuit of the wall is 2 miles and 605 feet. It is provided
with battlements on the outside and a ledge or standing-place within,
two or three feet wide, for the defenders. There may have been also
some kind of rail for protection on the inside; the railing, however,
sometimes found on old walls still existing, as at Chester, is modern;
and we observe that the walls of York, Aigues Mortes, Avignon, and
other places, are without any railing. Outside the wall lies the ditch,
broad and deep, first constructed in the early part of the thirteenth
century; the water is kept flowing by means of a culvert in the wall
which leads it into the old bed of the Walbrook; it is renewed and kept
fresh by certain small streams which fall into it from the Moorfields;
it is full of fish, but since nothing can keep the people from throwing
things into it, the water is always growing more shallow and the ditch
always needs more dredging. The White Tower is built upon the original
eastern end of the wall. Just north of the Tower on the east side is a
postern of late date giving access to the riverside; and it serves as
access to two religious houses, but there are no dwelling-houses there.
St. Katherine’s by the Tower, one of the religious houses, stands on
the bank of the river. It is quite a small foundation, but from the
beginning it has been closely connected with the Queens of England.
On the north of St. Katherine’s rises the stately Abbey of Grace,
Graces, or Eastminster, not one of the most wealthy monasteries, but an
important house, provided with very beautiful buildings (see vol. ii.
pt. iii. ch. xxvi.). Between the ditch and the monastery is the open
space called Little Tower Hill with its Stone Cross.
[Illustration: ST. KATHERINE’S BY THE TOWER
From Dugdale’s _Monasticon_.]
The Town Ditch begins just south of Smithfield at the angle. There is
no ditch along the west wall; probably there never was any, the Fleet
River serving here for the moat. There is a Bridge over the ditch for
the Grey Friars’ Postern, and another outside Aldersgate.
As we walk along the wall northwards, looking over the battlements, we
see, running across the broad stretch of level ground, a roadway. It is
not in the least like a modern road, or a Roman road; it is simply a
wide grassy track broken up by feet of horses and by ruts! the latter
are both broad and deep, for wheels are broad and carts are heavy.
Trees stand here and there along the road; dotted about the fields are
farm buildings, barns, and gardens. Presently, our view across the
fields is blocked by the House of the Sorores Minores, the Sisters of
St. Clare. You can see the nuns walking in their cloister garth; the
buildings lying among their gardens and their orchards look strangely
quiet and peaceful. As for the Sisters, they are reputed to be good
and pious; the voice of scandal may be making free with the Mendicant
Friars, and with the richly endowed monks; but no word or whisper of
scandal has ever been uttered as regards these Franciscan Sisters.
The farm beside their house, with the meadows, farm buildings, and
farm-yard, rich with cows, sheep, swine, and fowls, belongs to the good
Sisters, and is cultivated for them. It is one of the most ancient of
the market gardens of London.
We arrive at the first of the City gates—Aldgate, otherwise spelt
Algate or Alegate; but, according to Prof. Skeat, _ald_ is Med. Eng.
for _old_. It was not one of the Roman gates, because the Romans
would not make a gate opening simply to the outside, and there was no
Roman road connected with this part of the wall. It is, however, a
sufficiently ancient gate. The gate is double, with two portcullises,
but the drawbridge has become practically a permanent bridge; beside
the gate is a hermitage. Such hermitages near gates and bridges are not
uncommon. The hermit lives on the alms of the passers-by and promises
his prayers in return. There are sometimes two or three hermits lodged
together in one cell; their piety is occasionally doubtful; but
concerning the piety of the Aldgate hermit have I heard nothing. It is
not known when this gate was first constructed, certainly before the
time of Fitz Stephen; probably after the arrival of the Conqueror. We
may, if we please, ascribe its opening to Henry I., connecting it with
the tradition which used to make his Queen the builder of Bow Bridge.
In the neighbourhood of this gate, many years subsequently to the era
we are considering, Roman coins were found sixteen feet deep.
Each of the City gates is granted to a Sergeant-at-Arms, who occupies
the chambers over the gateway, and whose duty it is to keep watch at
night, being assisted by a watchman (_wayte_) whom he keeps at his own
expense. During the day each gate, according to the City regulations,
is kept by two men well armed; sometimes the Bedel is directed to
summon the men of the Ward to watch the gate armed, those absent
finding substitutes at their own expense. This is done as a reminder
of their duty. The City Gates, the Gate of London Bridge, and the City
Posterns, are let to certain persons from time to time, for the profit,
no doubt, arising from the farming of the tolls; Geoffrey Chaucer at
this very time has taken a lease of that at Aldgate. The keepers of the
City Gates are sworn, among other things, not to allow lepers to pass
into the City.
Newgate and Ludgate have been prisons from time immemorial. All the
chambers over all the gates are let on the condition that they may be
taken over as prisons if they are wanted.
[Illustration: CHAUCER
From the Ellesmere MS.]
On the north side, just outside the gate, stands one of the churches
dedicated to St. Botolph, the saint who protected travellers. The first
church built outside the wall must have been erected when times grew
somewhat settled,—it would have been little use building up a church
which at any time could be destroyed by marauders. Now as Botolph was a
Saxon Saint this church must have been built after the Danes had become
Christian, but before the Norman Conquest. In St. Botolph’s honour the
old town of Icanhoe changed its name to Botolphstown, or Boston.
Beyond the church are certain inns for the convenience of travellers;
among them the “Nuns” Inn. By this way come all the travellers and the
waggons out of Essex, the garden of England. In the broad courtyard
of the inns stand for safety the covered waggons laden and piled high,
to be driven to market in the morning. About a hundred yards beyond
the gate stands Aldgate Bar, corresponding to the later turnpike.
There are other bars which mark the bounds of the City liberties, but
the distance from each gate is not always the same. Temple Bar, for
instance, is a long way beyond Ludgate; Aldersgate Bar is near the
north end of Aldersgate Street; Bishopsgate Bar is near the Prior’s
Almshouse, Norton Folgate. Along the broad grassy track beyond Aldgate
Bar stands a small white chapel, that of St. Mary Matfelon, and there
are already a few houses, but not many. Beyond Aldgate and before
Bishopsgate the wall runs in a northwesterly direction; on the opposite
bank of the ditch there are certain small tenements. At this point
the ditch is called Houndsditch, because, it is said, “dead dogs are
thrown in here.” But dead dogs are thrown into other ditches as well.
People do not carry a dead dog to this part of the wall in order to
throw it into the ditch, so that this derivation does not ring true.
Houndsditch was probably so named from the kennels standing on the
north side—“dog-houses” they are called by the people. The breeding of
dogs for the hunt is a very important branch of trade; it can only be
carried on in the open country outside the wall of the City. A low wall
has been erected on the north side of the ditch to prevent the shooting
of rubbish into it, but, apparently, without effect. Beyond the wall
the broad stretch of fields belongs to the Priory of the Holy Trinity.
The next gate is Bishopsgate, the most stately of all the London gates.
The Bishop after whom it is named is Bishop Erkenwald (cons. 675, d.
693), perhaps because he rebuilt or repaired its predecessor. Not
exactly on this spot, but very near to this spot, on the east, stood
the Roman gate of which these are the successors. The foundations of
this original gate have been found in Camomile Street. There is a row
of Almshouses at Bishopsgate Bars for poor bedridden folk, who are
provided with a roof at least, while they beg their bread of passers-by.
If we remember that Newgate was also rebuilt some distance south of its
original position, we shall find strong confirmation of the theory that
London was for a while a deserted City. For it is impossible that the
occupation of a City should be continuous if the old position of the
gates is forgotten. Nor is it only the site of the gates itself which
is concerned; the change of position of a gate means the destruction
and the obliteration of the old streets in the City which led to it;
also of the roads outside which led to it: it means total oblivion of
the former position of houses and streets. All this is meant by the
transference of a gate. As for the date of the transference, we have
the tradition which makes the good Bishop Erkenwald the builder; we
have, close by the gate, the Church of St. Ethelburga, who was the
Bishop’s friend. On the other hand, Alfred found the wall in a ruinous
condition and strengthened it. Perhaps it was he who built the gate.
The actual gate before which we are now, in imagination, standing,
was erected in 1210, and succeeded that built by either Alfred or
Erkenwald. The two stone images of Bishops on the south side of this
represent St. Erkenwald and William the Norman; the other two images
are those of Alfred and his son-in-law Ethelred, Earl of Mercia.
Outside this gate we observe a second church dedicated to St. Botolph,
and opposite the church one of the great inns which are found outside
every City gate. This is the “Dolphin.” The broad road outside leads
past the poverty-stricken House of St. Mary of Bethlehem, now reduced
to two or three Brethren, through an almost continuous line of houses
as far as the noble and beneficent foundation of St. Mary Spital,
whither the sick folk of London are brought by hundreds to lie in the
sweet fresh country air outside the foul smells of the City. The road
leads also to Holywell Nunnery on the west, and as far as the little
church of St. Leonard Shoreditch, lying among the gardens and the
orchards. At the east end of the road is a great field, “Teazle Field,”
where they used to cultivate teazles for the clothmakers: at the
time we are considering it is the place where the crossbow-men shoot
for prizes. In Lollesworth Field, behind St. Mary Spital, there was
formerly a Roman cemetery: many evidences of the fact have been found.
Leaving Bishopsgate and walking along the straight line of wall running
nearly east and west we look out upon the open moor. It is dotted
by ponds and intersected by sluggish streams and ditches; there are
kennels belonging to the City Hunt and to rich citizens, and all day
long you can hear the barking of dogs. There is a stretch of moorland,
waste and uncultivated, covered with rank grass and weeds and reeds
and flowers of the marsh, which is an area of irregular shape, roughly
speaking, 400 yards from east to west by 300 yards from north to
south. Any buildings erected here must stand upon piles driven into
the London Clay. There is talk about the construction of a postern
opening upon the moor and of causeways across the moor. These would be
of great convenience to people wishing to go across to Iselden, or upon
pilgrimage to Our Lady of Muswell Hill or Willesden. There is already
a causeway leading from Bishopsgate Street without to Fensbury Court,
where there was a quadrangular house with a garden and a pond belonging
to the Mayor; and here are the kennels for the “Common Hunt.” Houses
now become thicker outside the wall; and when we reach Cripplegate we
find there is a considerable suburb, with a church called after St.
Giles. It was built two hundred years ago in the reign of Henry I.,
so that, as far back as the twelfth century, there was at least the
beginning of a suburb at this place.
As to the first building of Cripplegate there has been a good deal
of conjecture. Since the church was founded about the year 1090,
it is certain that there must have been, even then, a postern at
least for communication between the City and this suburb. And since
the name Cripplegate has nothing to do with any cripples but means
small—“crepul”—gate, the name seems to point to existence of a postern
at first. The gate, whoever built it originally, has been already
rebuilt; once in 1244 by the Brewers—perhaps they changed it from a
postern to a gate—who also constructed rooms above, which serve for the
imprisonment of debtors. You may see one at the barred window, holding
a string with a cup at the end of it, for the charity of pitiful
persons. Put in it a penny for the poor debtors. I think, from the
appearance of the gate, that it will have to be repaired again before
long.
Here the wall bends suddenly to the south by west, running in that
direction for 850 feet. Then it turns sharply to the west and after a
little to the south again. Why did it take this sudden bend? There has
never been anything in the nature of the ground to necessitate any such
turn: there is neither stream, nor lake, nor rock, nor hill, in the
way. Outside the wall, when it was first put up, there was moorland at
this spot as all along the north, yet there must have been some reason.
I have already ventured to offer a suggestion, which I repeat in this
place, that this is the site of the Roman amphitheatre.
Just beyond the turn of the wall we come to Aldersgate. There appears
to be no tradition concerning the date of this gate. It was one of the
first four gates of the City; and it has been enlarged by the addition
of a great framework house on the south side, and another on the east
side, the latter of which is remarkable for the possession of a very
deep well within its walls. Outside the gate is yet another church of
St. Botolph. Beyond the church you may observe the modest buildings of
a Fraternity. It is an Alien House called the Brotherhood of St. Fabian
and St. Sebastian. Beyond the House of this Brotherhood are two or
three great houses belonging to nobles. The cluster of religious houses
in this neighbourhood may account for the number of houses which very
early began to grow up around them. Under the wall is the Hospital of
St. Bartholomew; beyond the Hospital is the Priory; beyond the Priory
is the House of the Carthusian Friars; and on the west of these are the
houses of the Knights Hospitallers and the Clerkenwell Nuns. Standing
on the wall we command an excellent view of these buildings: grouped
about in picturesque beauty, they stand among trees and gardens; beyond
them, close to the City wall, lies the level plain of Smithfield with
its trees and ponds, with its Horse Fair and its Cloth Fair, with its
race-course and its gibbet, the place of amusements, the place of
executions, the place of ordeal.
Beyond Aldersgate the wall runs west for a little, when it turns south
again and passes Newgate. This is a goodly and a strong gate, and
beside it stands the prison of which, at another time, we will speak at
length. As we have said, Newgate, like Bishopsgate, was not built upon
the site of the Roman Gate but near it. This is the traditional history
of the gate:—
“This gate was first erected about the reign of Henry the First or of
King Stephen, upon this occasion. The Cathedral Church of St. Paul,
being burnt about the year 1086 in the reign of William the Conqueror,
Mauritius, then Bishop of London, repaired not the old church, as
some have supposed, but began the foundation of a new work, such as
men then judged would never have been performed: it was to them so
wonderful for heighth, length, and breadth, as also in respect it was
raised upon arches or vaults, a kind of workmanship brought in by
the Normans, and never known to the artificers of this land before
that time. After Mauritius, Richard Beaumore did wonderfully advance
the work of the said church, purchasing the large streets and lanes
round about, wherein were wont to dwell many lay-people, which grounds
he began to compass about with a strong wall of stone and gates. By
means of this increase of the church territory, but more by enclosing
of ground for so large a cœmitery or churchyard, the high and large
street stretching from Aldgate in the east to Ludgate in the west, was
in this place so crossed and stopped up, that the carriage through
the city westward was forced to pass without the said churchyard wall
on the north side, through Paternoster row; and then south, down
Ave Marie lane; and again west, through Bowyer row to Ludgate; or
else out of Cheap, or Watheling Street to turn south through the old
Change; then west through Carter lane, again north up Creed lane and
then west to Ludgate. Which passage, by reason of so much turning,
was very cumbersome and dangerous both for horse and man. For remedy
whereof a new gate was made, and so called, by which men and cattle,
with all manner of carriages, might pass more directly (as before)
from Aldgate, through west Cheap by St. Paul’s, on the north side:
through St. Nicholas Shambles and Newgate market to Newgate, and from
thence to any part westward over Holborn bridge, or turning without
the gate into Smithfield, and through Iseldon to any part north and
by west. This gate hath of long time been a gaol or prison for felons
and trespassers, as appeareth by records in the reign of King John and
of other kings; amongst the which I find one testifying, that in the
year 1218, the 3rd of King Henry the Third, the King writeth unto the
Sheriffs of London, commanding them to repair the gaol of Newgate for
the safe keeping of his prisoners, promising that the charges laid out
should be allowed unto them upon their accompt in the Exchequer.”
Continuing our walk we overlook the Fleet River, which is much choked
with filth and rubbish, especially from things thrown into it from
the Fleet prison, whose walls it washes and whose refuse it receives.
Perhaps after heavy rains it becomes a cleaner stream. Over against
it rises the steep slope of Holborn crowned with its ancient church
of St. Andrew. The broad road on which it stands is the military
road, which branched off from the Roman road, when London Bridge
was built. Formerly, and long after the building of the Bridge, the
highway between the north and the south ran across the marshes round
Westminster, and over Thorney Island itself.
Ludgate—perhaps, we do not know—was built as a postern before the
Conquest. It was rebuilt or strongly repaired, in the year 1215, by the
Barons when they entered the City and pillaged the Jews, as already
mentioned. Ludgate is now—in this fourteenth century—also a prison
concerning which more will be said hereafter.
The wall of London at first passed in a direction due south to the
river from this gate, which was on the hill just without the Church of
St. Martin. Between the wall and the Fleet was a small piece of wet and
undesirable ground on which the Dominicans were permitted to settle;
it was their precinct, outside the jurisdiction of the City. Presently
the Friars were allowed to pull down the City walls beside them. This
was in 1276. The King ordered the City to apply some of the murage dues
to building a new wall on the banks of the Fleet, so as to include the
House of the Dominicans. Three years later the order was renewed, yet
the wall remained unfinished. The lack of zeal probably meant a growing
disbelief in the importance of the wall, especially that part of it
which overlooked the muddy banks and the mouth of the Fleet. The wall,
however, was finished in due course.
We have now completed our circuit of the City wall and have seen what
was in the immediate neighbourhood of London. Farmhouses and pasture
lands in the direction of Stepney and Mile End; beyond them, which we
could not see, the low-lying lands and marshes of the river Lea. North
of Bishopsgate is a line of houses, three or four stately monasteries,
and inns for travellers; north of Moorgate a vast marsh crossed by
causeways, given over chiefly to kennels; beyond the moor, the pleasant
village of Iselden. At Cripplegate, a suburb populous but composed
entirely of craftsmen; outside Aldersgate, stately monasteries, a noble
hospital for the sick, a tract of ground, flat, dotted with ponds,
with some small clusters of trees upon it, decorated by a gibbet on
which hang always the mouldering remains of some poor dead wretches, a
gallows-tree on which half a dozen can be comfortably hanged at once.
This place is also the site of a great cloth fair held once a year,
of a horse fair once a week; and a part is given over to the Jews for
their burial-place. On the west, looking out from Ludgate, there is
the slope to the Fleet River, with its bridge; the street beyond with
its one or two great houses and its shops and taverns beginning to
spring up; beyond this street there is the rising slope of the Strand,
with its glittering streamlets. And standing on the southern tower of
the wall we can look across the river, and see on the other side, the
immense marsh that extends from Redriff to Battersea, and the gentle
rise of the Surrey Hills beyond. Along that southern marsh there are
few houses as yet. Southwark is little more than a High Street. There
are one or two houses belonging to Bishop, Abbot, and noble; there are
the infamous houses on Bankside; there is the Archbishop’s Palace at
Lambeth, but on this side there is little more.
Let us now leave the wall and begin to walk about the streets of the
City—we are still, it must be remembered, in the fourteenth century.
The first and most distinctive feature of every mediæval city, as
compared with its modern successor, is the number of its churches and
of its monastic foundations. The latter, it is true, are situated
outside the very heart of the City—thus, there are no convents in
Thames Street. The Dominicans, as we have seen, were at first outside
the wall: one religious foundation there was in Cheapside itself, but
that was due to the birthplace of a saint; all the rest were placed
near the wall, either within or without, one reason being that they
were founded late when the inner part of the City was already filled
up, and another, that they were founded, for the most part, with
slender endowments, so that they were compelled to get land where
it was cheapest. But the churches stand in every street; one cannot
escape the presence of a church; and the minute size of the parishes
proves, among other things, the former density of the population.
Take, for instance, that part of Thames Street which extends from St.
Peter’s Hill to Little College Street. That is a length of 1600 feet
by a breadth averaging 400 feet. This area, which is divided along the
upper part by Thames Street, consists almost entirely of warehouses,
wharves, and narrow lanes leading to the river stairs; the south of it
consists of that curious little collection of inhabited streets, the
whole of which was reclaimed from the foreshore; there are a tangle of
narrow lanes and noisome courts lying among and between the wharves,
which lanes and courts are always foul and stinking, inhabited by the
people belonging to the service of the Port. There are actually five
parishes in that little district. The first of them, St. Peter’s,
contains not quite two acres; the second, St. Mary Somerset, about
four acres; the third, St. Michael’s, Queenhithe, about two acres and
a half; the fourth, St. James, Garlickhithe, the same; and the fifth,
St. Martin Vintry, about three acres and three-quarters. Five parishes
in this little slip of land! But if we take the whole slip of land,
which we call the riverside—an area of a mile in length by about 400
feet in width, we find that there are no fewer than eighteen parishes
in it. All the churches now within the City, together with those which
must have been burned or destroyed, are standing in the century we are
considering. So frequent are the churches, so scanty the dimensions of
the parish, that the most remarkable feature in the architecture and
appearance of the City is the church which one sees in every street
and from every point of view. These churches have been already rebuilt
over and over again. At first they were small wooden structures, like
that at Greenstead, Chipping Ongar, with their walls composed of
trunks cut in half and placed side by side. A few were of stone, for
the name of St. Mary Staining commemorates such a church. After the
Conquest a rage for building set in, builders and masons came over
from the Continent in numbers, and the period of Norman architecture
began. Still, however, the parish churches continued to be small and
dark. But the City grew richer: the nobles who lived in the City and
the merchants began to rebuild, to decorate, and to beautify their
churches: they pulled down the old churches, they built them up again
larger and lighter, in Early English first and next in Decorated Style.
Small the City churches continued and remained, but to some of them
were added gateways and arches. Adorned as they were by the pious care
of the citizens, for generation after generation, by this fifteenth
century they had become beautiful. The citizens had filled the windows
with painted glass, they had covered the bare walls with paintings,
they had erected tombs for themselves with fine carved work and figures
in marble and alabaster, they had covered the carved font with a carved
tabernacle, they had glorified the roof with gold and azure, they had
given the chancel carved seats, they had adorned the altars, they had
given organs, they had endowed the church with singing men and boys,
and they had bestowed upon it such collections of plate, furniture,
rich robes, candlesticks, and altar cloths, as makes one wonder where
the Church found room to stow everything. Everybody knows the Treasury
of Notre Dame, of St. Denys, of Aix-la-Chapelle. The cupboards are
crammed with ecclesiastical gear and relics and reliquaries. We must
realise that the same thing, on a smaller scale, is to be seen, in the
fourteenth century, in every parish church of London. We look into
church after church. There are treasures in every one, treasures that
the priests and the sacristans bring out with pride. And the monuments
over the graves of City worthies bring out very strongly, as we stand
in the churches and read the names, the fact that the members of the
great distributing Companies, largely, if not entirely, belong to
families of gentle birth: upon this fact there will be more to say in
another place. Another point is that there are few monuments older than
this—the fourteenth-century. Thus, taking half a dozen of the churches
as we walk about the streets, we find that a monument of the thirteenth
century occurs in one or two cases only. What does this mean? That the
monuments of all the merchants who died in London and are buried in the
City churches have been removed or wantonly destroyed? I think not.
It has another meaning. The erection of monuments to the dead belongs
to a very primitive stage of civilisation, and it is also found in
an advanced stage; in times of continual uncertainty and warfare it
does not always exist: nor does the craftsman or the rustic desire a
post-mortem memory. The citizens of London before this time have not
generally nourished the desire of posthumous honour. They left money
for masses, or to beautify the church; or they founded doles for the
Mind Day, but not for the erection of a monument. This desire seems to
belong to a time when the conditions of life have been smoothed and
some of the old miseries have abated. Not that the dangers of fire,
famine, or pestilence ever weigh heavily upon the minds of a people
actively engaged; or that they are bowed down by the consciousness that
war, with a painful death on the field, is always a possibility for
them; or that they find life intolerable by reason of its diseases,
its chances, its changes, or its brevity. But it is quite certain
that they do realise so vividly the world to come, that in all their
transactions it is acknowledged in words, if not really felt, to be of
far greater importance than the world in which they live. Since, after
a time of Purgatory, one is going for ever to sit among the Saints,
what matters it whether one’s name is preserved or not? When many of
the old dangers are abated; when fortune is more stable; when wealth
accumulates; when the growth of the City brings dignity, honour, and
authority to the citizens,—then it may become natural for the people to
erect monuments in memory of the men whose personality in life has been
large and full of dignity; and then every man will begin to desire such
a monument in memory of those surprising achievements of which he alone
is conscious. Every family will begin to desire such a commemoration,
if only to swell the family pride, and to make the church itself
proclaim the glory of the line. But in the thirteenth century these
aspirations were rare. Henry of London Stone, first Mayor and Mayor for
five-and-twenty years, was one of those thus honoured.
Let us exchange generalities for a single example.
We are standing at the entrance of a narrow lane leading north from
Thames Street. It is the street called Fish Street Hill or Labour in
Vain Hill. On the south-east corner stands the very ancient church of
St. Mary Somerset. It is placed a little back from Thames Street with
part of its churchyard on the south side: it is a large and handsome
church; the churchyard is planted with trees and the graves are mounds
of grass. We enter the street, which presents a steep incline: down
the middle runs a tiny stream, for there has been rain; offal, bones,
grease, fish-heads, dirty water, refuse of all kinds float down this
stream, which, after a heavy shower, keeps the street comparatively
clean and wholesome. There are, however, fortunately, other scavengers
besides the rain; they swoop down out of the sky, they alight in the
street, they tear the offal with their beaks and claws, they carry it
up to the house-tops; these are the kites and crows, who build their
nests on the church towers and roofs, and find their food in the refuse
thrown out into the streets. Were it not for these birds, London
streets would be intolerable.
It is a morning in May: along the street on either side are houses;
here is a rich merchant’s house standing behind its wall, and beside it
is a little tenement occupied by a craftsman. Looking up the street one
can see green trees here and there, from those of St. Mary Somerset on
the south to those of St. Nicholas Cole Abbey on the north. Half-way up
we come upon a low wall; looking over it we see a churchyard shaded by
trees and covered with graves, the grass growing long and rank; on the
west side of the churchyard stands the church—it is a very small church
called St. Mary Mounthaw, one of the latest of the City churches, and
built originally as a chapel for a private family. Its name shows that
the parish was a slice of St. Mary Somerset, just as St. Katherine
Coleman was carved out of St. Katherine Cree, and All Hallows the Less
out of All Hallows the Great. The door is open—if we look in we see a
few women kneeling; there is the murmur of a chantry priest, for it
is morning, singing his daily mass; the church is Early English, the
roof is high, with beams crossing and recrossing, they are painted
red and gold; springing out from the side of the church are angels
with outspread wings; high up in the roof itself above the beams is a
sky all blue with silver stars. The walls of the church are decorated
with bright-coloured paintings from the life of the Blessed Virgin and
her Son; the windows are richly painted; the altar is covered with
candlesticks, crosses and furniture in white silk, gold, silver, and
latoun. There are two noble monuments, each with its effigy and its
chapel of white marble: one effigy wears a Bishop’s mitre; another is
the image of an Alderman, who was a benefactor to the church. Dozens of
candles stuck on iron sticks are burning, with a few great wax tapers
paid for by a bequest; at the door sit two old women, beggars. On the
north side of the church, and outside it, is a projecting structure
half underground. This is the anchorite’s cell (see vol. ii. pt. ii.
ch. v.): on the level of the ground is a small aperture protected by a
rusty iron grating without glass and without shutter; by this window
everything must be handed in to the occupant. If we look through the
bars, we see that within there reigns a dim and terrible twilight,
for no gleam of sunshine can penetrate this cold and gloomy den, and
even on this bright and sunny morning the air is cold and damp like
the air of a crypt. On the other side is a narrow slit in the wall,
like the leper’s squint, through which the anchorite can witness the
Elevation of the Host; at the end of the cell a raised stone serves
for an altar, a crucifix stands upon it, and before it the anchorite
spends most of his time day and night, praying. The present occupant
has been built up into this cell for many years; he subsists on what is
brought him. There is never any fear of his being starved or forgotten:
he is well provided for, and the people offer him dainties which he
will not touch, for he lives on bread and water: sick or well, he will
never leave this cell till they find him lying dead on the floor and
carry him out. And when the cell is empty there will be no difficulty
in finding a successor to occupy his place and fulfil the same dreary
austere life.
Let us leave the church and pass on. The street is very narrow, but
not so narrow as some. The houses, which are for the most part two and
three stories high, are gabled, and the windows are glazed: many of
them, such as those on Labour in Vain Hill, do not contain shops but
are what we should call private houses, some are let for lodgings to
those who come to town on business; and when the lodger is an _armiger_
or a noble, he hangs his scutcheon out of the window, or fixes it
on the wall above the door. Thus, Chaucer’s attention, you will
remember—see that famous lawsuit tried but the other day, Scrope _v._
Grosvenor—was first called to the doubtful heraldry on the Grosvenor
shield by seeing the scutcheon hanging out of the window in Friday
Street. The houses are not in line, but are placed as the builders
choose, fronting in various directions and abutting at different depths
on the street. Here is a narrow court leading out of the street, it
is so narrow that a man standing in the middle can easily touch
each side. It contains about a dozen small tenements inhabited by
craftsmen, who are all at work in the ground-floor rooms, which are
at once workshop, kitchen, and sleeping-room. All about, in the air,
one hears the continual noise of work, the sound of hammering, sawing,
grating, the ringing of the anvil, the voices of women who quarrel and
scold. Now and then rises, all in a moment, without warning, a sudden
brawl between two of the working men, at once knives are drawn and in
a moment the thing is over, but it leaves a little pool of blood in
the middle of the street, and a woman binds up a bleeding arm. We have
seen enough of the court. Come back into the street. Here is a gateway
and over it a gatehouse, but without battlements or portcullis. Two or
three men-at-arms are hanging about the gate, and within is a broad
square court in which boys, pages practising tilting, are riding about.
There are buildings on all four sides; one of these is a stately hall
with a lofty roof and lantern, and the others are noble buildings. This
is the town house of a great Baron, who rides with a following of three
hundred gentlemen and men-at-arms, and owns manors broad, rich, and
numerous. He maintains five hundred people, at least, in his service.
Next, there is another gateway and another court with another hall, but
not so great. This is the town house of the Bishop of Hereford. There
is no tilting or riding in his court: it is, on the other hand, turned
into a garden with roses and lilies blossoming in the flower-beds, a
fountain sparkling in the sunshine and splashing musically. There is a
south aspect, and vines are trained upon the wall; there is a sun-dial,
and some seats are placed upon the grass. As for the house, the
windows and porches are full of beautiful carved woodwork and shields
are carved on the walls. Below the windows are figures in bas-relief
representing all the virtues, and the great window of the hall is of
painted glass with the family arms of the Bishop, a man of no mean
descent, in the centre. Near the Bishop’s house, and like unto it in
appearance, but of lesser splendour, is the house of a great merchant,
as great men went in the fourteenth century. We will presently enter
one of these houses and see how they are furnished. And among the great
houses standing side by side, rich and poor together, as it should be,
are tenements of the craftsmen, such as we have seen in the narrow
court which we have just now passed. In the street itself, dabbling
in the water barefooted, are the children, rosy-cheeked, fair-haired,
playing, running, and shouting, as they do to this day, and always have
done since the beginning of the City.
Shall we next enter the City at Ludgate and walk about its streets from
there? Ludgate is half-way up the hill that rises above the valley of
the Fleet; passing through it we stand before the west front of St.
Paul’s. The noble church must be reserved for another occasion. We walk
through the churchyard, and so by the north-east gate of the Precinct
find ourselves in Chepe.
This is the greatest market of the City. Hither come the craftsmen, for
to each craft is assigned its own place in the market. Not only do the
trades work together, but they sell their wares together, so that there
is no underselling, and everything is offered at a fixed price.
There is a great deal to be said for this custom. It is convenient for
the apprentice to live and work in the atmosphere, so to speak, of
his own trade, and to see all day long his own industry. It is also
convenient for men of the same craft to work together, first, because
solitary labour is bad for a man, next, because hours of labour can
only be enforced when men work in companies, third, because bad work
cannot be successfully palmed off as good where all work is in common,
and, last, if any other reason were wanted, because in some trades
tools are costly, and by this method can be held and used in common.
Out of this working in common spring the fraternities and guilds and,
in fulness of time, the companies. There also grows up, what would
never have arisen out of solitary labour, the pride and dignity of
trade. The dignity of trade will be greatly increased when the City
Companies become rich and strong, and when each fraternity can carry on
occasions of state its own banners and insignia, and can wear its own
distinctive dress.
There were changes in the quarters of trade from time to time owing to
causes which we can only guess.
“Men of trades and sellers of wares in this City have oftentimes
since changed their places, as they have found their best advantage.
For whereas mercers and haberdashers used wholly then to keep their
shops in West Cheap; of later time they held them on London Bridge,
where partly they do yet remain. The Goldsmiths of Gutheron’s Lane
and the Old Exchange are now, for the most part, removed into the
south side of West Cheap. The pepperers and grocers of Soper’s Lane
are now in Bucklersbury, and other places dispersed. The drapers of
Lombard Street and of Cornhill are seated in Candlewick Street and
Watheling Street. The skinners from St. Marie Pellipers, or at the
Axe, into Budge Row and Walbrook. The stockfish-mongers in Thames
Street. Wet-fish-mongers in Knightriders Street and Bridge Street. The
ironmongers of Ironmongers’ Lane and Old Jury into Thames Street. The
vintners from the Vinetree into divers places. But the brewers for the
most part remain near to the friendly water of Thames. The butchers in
East Cheap, St. Nicholas Shambles, and the Stockes market. The hosiers,
of old time, in Hosier Lane, near unto Smithfield, are since removed
into Cordwainer Street, the upper part thereof, by Bow Church, and last
of all into Birchovers Lane by Cornhill. The shoemakers and curriers of
Cordwainer Street removed, the one to St. Martin’s le Grand, the other
to London wall near to Moorgate. The founders remain by themselves
in Lothbury. The cooks or pastelars, for the more part, in Thames
Street; the other dispersed into divers parts. The poulters of late
removed out of the Poultry, betwixt the Stockes and the Great Conduit
in Cheap, into Grass Street and St. Nicholas Shambles. Bowyers from
Bowyers’ Row by Ludgate into divers parts; and almost worn out with the
fletchers. The paternoster bead-makers and text-writers are gone out
of Paternoster Row, and are called stationers of Paul’s Churchyard.
The patten-makers, of St. Margaret Pattens Lane, are clean worn out.
Labourers every work-day are to be found in Cheap, about Soper’s Lane
end. Horse-coursers and sellers of oxen, sheep, swine, and such like,
remain in their old market of Smithfield.”
[Illustration: THE OLD FOUNTAIN IN THE MINORIES, BUILT ABOUT 1480,
DEMOLISHED 1793
From an old print.]
West Chepe is a broad place covered with movable stalls arranged in
prescribed order; and this arrangement marks out the streets. On the
north and south are large “selds,” which are warehouses and shops in
which the servants have their sleeping-rooms, but there is, as yet,
very little order or regularity observed in the erection of the seld.
Already many of the stalls, especially on the south side, are shops
with houses above them. In the midst of Chepe is the Standard, as
important a part of the City as Paul’s Cross, for it is the old Town
Cross, the Cross that marks the centre of the City, and round the
Standard are stalls for fish and vegetables; there are also “stations”
for the sale of small things. There are other associations connected
with the Standard—it has been used for execution. In the time of the
present King’s grandfather, Edward, first of the name, were some who
had their right hands struck off for rescuing a prisoner: only the
other day we saw two fishmongers beheaded here. Not far from the
Standard is Queen Eleanor’s Cross, which is opposite Wood Street.
The “Frame” houses are beginning to be built on the south side of
Chepe. They are not, like the palaces of the wealthy merchants and
the nobles, built round a court, but are simply developments of the
ordinary citizen’s house, decorated and better built. The “frame” is of
strong and thick oak, folded in with plaster, and the front, carried
up to three or four stories, is covered with carved woodwork; here are
shields and the arms of the trade to which the owner belongs, here are
effigies and carvings of men and creatures, here are bright paintings
in red and blue and gold. We have passed through Chepe and are in the
Poultry.
This large house, with its solid gate and its spacious court, is the
residence of the Lord Mayor for the year. Observe that the posts
outside his gates are gilded, a pretty decoration for the street. Yet
it is not in pride that the Chief Magistrate of the City sets up two
pillars of gold before his house, it is the City custom thus to mark
the house of Mayor, Alderman, or Sheriff. The posts may be painted or
they may be gilt. When Proclamations of the King are read they are set
up on these posts, and they who read them do so bareheaded, to show
their respect for King and Mayor.
Let us not forget to notice the “Room-lands” of which there were many,
though now they are greatly reduced in number and in space. There was
the broad space round St. Paul’s Cathedral, the place where the Folk
Mote assembled. This area was in course of time partly covered with
buildings, and with graves and receptacles for bones: another vacant
area was that at the north-west corner of the City Wall, where the
Franciscans built their House: West Chepe was a Room-land: East Chepe
was another: and there were broad spaces designedly left unbuilt upon
at Billingsgate, Queenhithe, and Dowgate. The Coal Exchange stands upon
the site of the Billingsgate Room-land.
The changes that crept over London during the centuries we are
considering were so slow and so imperceptible that the ordinary
observer must have thought the world was standing still. Always there
had been the Church with its services, always the Friar in the street,
always the market and the selds: he did not know, because he had no
power of judging, that the City was growing richer, that the standard
of comfort had risen immensely, that life was not so rude as it had
been, that, perhaps, there was less violence. As much uncertainty there
always was, for in the midst of life we are in death, and there were
many terrors—the pestilence that stalked the streets, invisible, by
day and by night, fire, famine, and war. The population of the City did
not increase so fast as its wealth; there were more stately houses,
more carved work, more gold and silver cups, finer tapestry, finer
weapons, but the world, in the eyes of the ordinary citizen, stood
still: as things had been, so they were still, so they would be till
the end of all things; there was no hope, no thought of a larger and
nobler humanity, all his hope lay beyond the world. Let us remember
this fact, because it explains a great deal of mediæval history.
West Chepe was the heart of the City: but it was not the Exchange.
There was no Exchange. The merchants met in the most convenient place,
that is to say, for foreign trade, in Thames Street. They had their
houses for the most part in the sloping streets north of Thames Street;
here they received the foreign merchants. The lesser sort transacted
business at the tavern.
As we continue our walk we discover that there are three or four
principal streets in the City. The apparent labyrinth is pierced by
parallel thoroughfares and by others at right angles, so that one need
not be lost in the winding lanes. The most important is the street—if
we may call that a continuous street which is interrupted at so many
places—which enters at Newgate. It is here called Flesh-shambles or
Newgate Street, but it is interrupted at Blowbladder Street, and it
becomes Chepe; it is interrupted by the Poultry, and it goes along
Cornhill and Leadenhall Street, and so out at Aldgate. It is crossed
by Grasschurch Street and Bishopsgate Street and by a great number of
narrow streets. Other streets of less importance are Candlewick Street,
East Chepe, Tower Street, Walbrook, Lombard Street, Fenchurch Street,
Watling Street, Knightrider Street, besides a great number of narrow
lanes, themselves intersected by courts and alleys. Remark, however,
that as yet every house of any importance has its garden. The citizen
of London clings to his garden, however small it is.
One thinks that, with streets and lanes so narrow, where there is no
system of sewage, and everything is thrown into the street, the filth
and general uncleanness must have been intolerable. Look around: we
are in the midst of narrow lanes, but where is the intolerable filth?
Let us consider. There is a great deal of rain which washes the street
continually, and these lanes mostly stand on a slope; there is a
service, not very effective, but still of some use, carried on by the
“rakers,” who pick up things and take them to lay-stalls; there are
the scavenger birds of which we have spoken; and, the most important
point of any, there is public opinion. All the people have to use these
lanes to go up and down about their daily business; the children play
in them; the housewives go to early mass and to market; the great lady
who, with her maids, lives in the house behind the gates before you
has to use this lane. Think you that these people will consent to have
their ways defiled and made impassable? Not so. Therefore the streets
are kept tolerably clean. I say not, that in August, after a month
or two of hot weather, they are so sweet and fresh as they should
be. But one will find more inconvenience from the people than from
the streets. What can one expect? Most of them have but one suit of
clothes which they wear all the year round. But seen in this way, by
walking from one narrow lane into another, where all the streets are
narrow except Cheapside, one cannot get a just idea of the size and
the splendour of the ancient City. Let us therefore, since the tide
is flowing, take boat at the Iron Gate Stairs between the Tower and
St. Katherine’s. This is the end of the town, a gathering of houses
round the venerable church and college, a river embankment, ruinous in
places, and a low-lying marsh beyond, this is all that one can see of
the east of London. Marshes lie on either side of the City, moorland
and forest are on the north, and there are marshes on the south. In
the Pool are moored the ships, not yet in long lines four deep, but
here and there; some of these are lying off the Tower, some are in the
port of Billingsgate, and some sailing up the river; all of them have
high poops and low bows, and most of them two masts and four square
sails. Other vessels there are, vessels of strange build of which
we know not the names. We drop across the river, and hoisting sails
gently glide with wind and tide up the river as far as Westminster.
The Tower looms large above the waters. It is the fortress of London,
the Palace and Fortress and Prison of the King, and is guarded with
jealous care by moat, outward and inner wall, and barbican against any
attack of the citizens within rather than any enemies from without. The
King’s Lieutenant never leaves the place; he has his guard of archers
and men-at-arms; as well as the prisoners of State in his charge. He
has his entrance from the river, and from the east, so that he is
quite independent of the City. That little forest of masts belongs to
the Port of Billingsgate, one of the ancient ports of the City. The
riverside houses between the Tower and Billingsgate are mean and small:
the quarter is inhabited by sailors and sailors’ folk, by foreign as
well as English sailors. After Billingsgate the houses are higher:
some are built out upon piles driven into the mud of the river. Here
we pass under London Bridge. On the south bridge gate are stuck on
poles the heads of a dozen traitors. Alas! it would be hard to make
out the features, so blackened are they by weather and so shrunken and
decayed. Yet there are old crones standing about the Surrey side of
the bridge for doles from the Bridgemaster and Brethren, who know the
name of each, and can tell you his history, and when he suffered, and
why. At each end of the bridge stands a church—as if to guard it—St.
Magnus on the north and St. Olave on the south—though why should there
be two Danish saints to guard an English bridge? In the middle is the
chapel—that of an English saint. This bridge, in the imagination of the
citizens, is the finest in the world. Admire the number of the arches,
and note that no two arches are of the same breadth; look at the houses
on the bridge; the way between them is narrow and dark, yet here and
there are open spaces, where carts and waggons and pack-horses can
wait their turn for passing. Once a house fell from the bridge into
the river; once a child fell and was rescued by an apprentice who
afterwards married her, and many other stories there are. Now we are
through the bridge safely, though many boats have been upset and many
brave fellows drowned in shooting the arches. There are no great ships
above bridge, but there are a good many of the smaller kind laden with
cargoes for Queenhithe Port and Market. And now look up. Saw one ever
such a forest of spires and towers? Can we make them out? The light
and slender steeple behind the bridge is St. Helen’s; the still more
beautiful spire is that of Austin Friars; the tall square tower is St.
Michael’s, Cornhill; on the right, the tower and low spire belong to
St. Peter’s. And so on.
[Illustration: NORTH-WEST VIEW OF THE ANTIENT STRUCTURE OF
MERCHANT-TAYLORS HALL, AND THE ALMS-HOUSES ADJOINING, IN THREADNEEDLE
STREET
From drawing taken by William Goodman in the year 1599 and now in
possession of the Worshipful Company of Merchant Taylors.]
The heavy barges, laden to the water’s edge, have come down from
Oxfordshire and Wiltshire; observe the swans, the fishing-boats, and
the swarm of watermen plying between stairs, for this is the highway of
the City. Not Cheapside, or East Cheap, or Thames Street, or the Strand
is the highway of the City, but the river. And as on a main road we
pass the noble Lord and his retinue, on their war-horses, caparisoned
and equipped with shining steel and gilded leather, and after him a
band of minstrels or a company of soldiers; or a lady riding on her
palfrey followed by her servants and her followers; so on the river we
pass the stately barge of some great courtier, the gilded barge of the
Mayor, the common wherry, the tilt-boat, the loaded lighter, and the
poor old fishing-boat decayed and crazy.
Look at the riverside houses. Yonder great palace, with its watergate
and stairs and its embattled walls, is Fishmongers’ Hall. It is a
wealthy company, albeit never one beloved of the people, whom they must
supply with food for a good fourth part of the year. That other great
house is Cold Harbour, of the first building of which no man knows.
Many great people have lived in Cold Harbour, which, as you see, is a
vast great place of many storeys, and with a multitude of rooms. Within
there is a court, invisible from the river, though its stairs may be
seen.
Almost next to Cold Harbour is the “Domus Teutonicorum,” the Hall of
the Hanseatic Merchants. What you see from the river is the embattled
wall on the river side, one side of the Hall, some windows of the
dormitories, stone houses built on wooden columns, also the great
weighing-beam and the courtyard. The front of this fortress—for it is
nothing less—contains three gates, viz. two small gates easily closed,
and one great gate, seldom opened. You see that they have their own
watergate and stairs. In everything they must be independent of the
London folk, with whom they never mix if they can keep separate. The
men live here under strict rule and discipline; they may not marry;
they stay but a short time as a rule; and when they are recalled by
the rulers of the great company they are allowed to marry. Here, from
the south side of the river, we get the only good view of the church
of St. Paul. ’Tis a noble Church: is there a nobler anywhere? If we
consider how it stands upon a hill dominating the City and all around
it, of what length it is, of what height, how its spire seeks the
sky and draws the clouds, then when one realises these things one’s
heart glows with pride at the possession of so great and splendid a
church. See how it rises far above the houses on its south side! Was
it by accident, think you, that the churches between the bank and the
Cathedral, St. Mary Magdalene, St. Nicolas Cole Abbey, St. Benedict,
and the others, were all provided with short square towers without
steeples so as to set off the wondrous height of the Cathedral? Was
it by accident that on the west side of the Cathedral rose the spire
of Blackfriars, and on the east the lesser spire of St. Augustine’s,
making a contrast with the lofty proportions of the great church? In
front of us is the ancient port once called Edred’s Hythe after the
name of a former Wharfinger or Harbour Master or Port Captain; it was
afterwards called Potter’s Hythe and later Queen Hythe, because King
John gave it to his mother Queen Eleanor, which name it still retains.
The port is square, and open on one side to the river; there are
never any storms to wreck the shipping within. It is now filled with
ships, chiefly of the smaller kind, because the larger craft cannot
pass through the Bridge. For this reason Billingsgate long surpassed
Queenhithe in the number and importance of its ships and the magnitude
of its trade. However, at Queenhithe they are busy. The cranes wheeze
and grunt as they turn round; carriers with bales and sacks upon their
backs toil unceasingly. All round the quay runs a kind of open cloister
with an upper storey on pillars: this is the warehouse of the Harbour.
[Illustration:
_Grove and Boulton._
A SOUTH-EAST VIEW OF LONDON BEFORE THE DESTRUCTION OF ST. PAUL’S
STEEPLE BY FIRE, A.D. 1560]
The earliest harbour, whose mouth we passed just now, is an
insignificant stream; one cannot understand how it could ever be a
harbour for ships. It was once, however, a full and deep stream
running rapidly down its valley, and sometimes swollen by rains. It
drained Moorfields, and half a dozen rivulets joined together to make
the brook, but when the ditch was dug round the wall, the brook fell
into the ditch, and although a culvert was cut in the wall for the
surplus water to pass down the old bed, little flowed through, and the
Walbrook was only kept up as a stream by two or three springs in the
northern part of the City.
There is a street in Rouen called the rue des Eaux de Robec, which
suggests something of the appearance of the Walbrook before the
sixteenth century. The street, which is fairly straight, contains a
double row of houses, tall and ancient, projecting in three upper
storeys, and decayed from former respectability. Such at the present
day, were they still standing, would be the houses lining the course of
the Walbrook in the fourteenth century. Along one side of the street
runs a rapid stream in a deep channel; the water is black, whether from
the darkness or the impurity I know not; it is partly bridged over; the
bridges have been broadened until they are no longer narrow footways,
but platforms on which workmen sit at their trade, and stalls are set
out with things for sale. On the other side is the narrow roadway with
its pavement of small uneven square blocks; there is no central gutter,
because the stream carries everything off. Such was the appearance of
the Walbrook. At first foot-bridges crossed it at intervals; then it
was confined to a narrow channel; then other uses were made of the
stream; then the footways became floors of stone or woodwork, with the
stream open between them; then these openings became gradually filled
up, and the stream was shut out of sight and forgotten. If you wish to
understand how Walbrook appeared in our imaginary walk, go to see the
rue des Eaux de Robec in Rouen.
The stately Palace rising straight from the water’s edge with its
river-gate and stairs and its lofty face is Baynard’s Castle, so called
from its first founder. Within, there are two spacious courts with
rooms to accommodate hundreds of followers. It was formerly the House
of the Castellain, for the rights and title of Castellain at first
went with the possession of the Castle. When Robert FitzWalter in 1275
parted with Baynard’s Castle he reserved, so far as he could, these
rights. They were exercised only in time of war, and at such a time it
was the duty of the Castellain, mounted and caparisoned, with nineteen
knights and his banner borne before him, to proceed to the great Gate
of St. Paul’s, where he was met by the Mayor, Aldermen, and Sheriffs,
all arrayed in arms, the Mayor holding the City Banner in his hand, the
ground of which was bright vermilion, or gules, with a figure thereon
of St. Paul in gold—the feet, hands, and head of the Saint being argent.
At the West End of St. Paul’s was a piece of open ground upon which
the citizens made muster of arms for the defence of the City under the
inspection of the Lord of Baynard’s Castle. At the East End there was
another piece of open ground where the citizens assembled for their
folkmote and for making parade of arms for keeping the King’s peace.
Here was Paul’s Cross, and here was the clochier or Campanile, the
great bell of which summoned the citizens either to the folkmote or to
the muster of arms. The following is the order of the ceremonies:—
[Illustration: TEMPLE CHURCH, LONDON
From an engraving by Measom.]
“And as soon as the said Robert shall see the Mayor, and the
Sheriffs, and the Aldermen, coming on foot out of the said church
armed, with such banner, the said Robert (or his heirs who owe this
service unto the said city) shall then dismount from his horse, and
shall salute the Mayor as his companion and his peer, and shall say
unto him: ‘Sir Mayor, I am come to do my service that I owe unto the
city’; and the Mayor, and the Sheriffs, and the Aldermen shall say:
‘We deliver unto you here, as to our Banneret in fee of this city,
this banner of the city, to bear, carry, and govern, to the honour and
to the profit of our city, to the best of your power.’ And the said
Robert, or his heirs, shall receive the banner in his hand, and shall
go on foot as far as the outside of the gate, with the banner in his
hand; and the Mayor of the said city, and the Sheriffs, shall follow
him to the gate, and shall bring a horse unto the said Robert, of the
price of twenty pounds; and the horse shall be saddled with a saddle
with the arms of the said Robert thereon, and covered with cendal with
the same arms thereon. And they shall take twenty pounds sterling, and
shall deliver them unto the chamberlain of the said Robert, for his
expenses of that day. And the said Robert shall mount the horse which
the said Mayor has presented unto him, with the banner wholly in his
hand.
And as soon as he shall be mounted he shall tell the Mayor to cause a
Marshal to be chosen forthwith, of the host of the city of London. As
soon as the Marshal is chosen, the said Robert shall cause the Mayor
and his burgesses of the city to be commanded to have the communal
bell of the said city rung; and all the community shall go to follow
the banner of Saint Paul and the banner of the said Robert; the which
banner of Saint Paul the self-same Robert shall carry in his own hand
as far as Alegate. And when they are come to Alegate, the said Robert
and the Mayor shall deliver the said banner of Saint Paul, to be borne
onward from Alegate, unto such person as the said Robert and the Mayor
shall agree upon, if so be that they have to make their exit out of
the city. And then ought the Mayor to dismount. and the said Robert,
and of each Ward two of the wisest men behind them, to provide how the
city may best be guarded. And counsel to this effect shall be taken in
the Priory of the Trinity, by the side of Alegate.
And before every city or castle that the said host of London besieges,
if it remains one whole year about the siege, the said Robert ought
to have for each siege, from the commonalty of London, one hundred
shillings for his trouble, and no more.
And further, the said Robert and his heirs possess a great honour,
which he holds as a great franchise in the said city, [and] which the
Mayor of the city and the citizens of the same place are bound to do
unto him as of right; that is to say, that when the Mayor wishes to
hold his Great Council, he ought to invite the said Robert, or his
heirs, to be present at his council and at the council of the city;
and the said Robert ought to be sworn of the council of the city
against all persons, save the King of England or his heirs. And when
the said Robert comes to the Hustings in the Guildhall of the city,
then ought the Mayor, or the person holding his place, to rise before
him, and to place him near unto him; and so long as he is in the said
Guildhall, all the judgments ought to be given by his mouth, according
to the record of the Recorders of the Guildhall; and as to all the
waifs that come so long as he is there, he ought to give them unto
the bailiffs of the city, or unto such person as he shall please, by
counsel of the Mayor of the said city.” (Riley, _Liber Custumarum_.)
Yonder is the mouth of the Fleet: as this stream is now, so was the
Walbrook of old. On its western bank stands the Palace of Bridewell
over against the House of the Blackfriars with its splendid group of
buildings and its tall _flèche_. And now is London left behind us;
there is no more trade along the banks of the river save a little at
Westminster. These stairs upon the bank, and these carved and painted
barges belong to the Palaces of the Bishops, Abbots, and great Lords.
We pass Essex House, Arundel House, Somerset House, Burleigh House,
the Savoy, Bedford House, Durham House, York House, all with gardens,
terraces, and spacious courts. And so we come to the King’s Stairs,
Westminster. Here is the King’s Palace, a crowded, busy, noisy place,
and beyond is the Abbey of St. Peter, rich and famous. A noble church
it is; but it is not so noble, nor is it yet so famous as the Church
of St. Paul. Coronations, marriages, funerals, and tombs of kings
do ennoble a great church, but there are other kinds of nobility.
St. Paul’s is the centre, the heart of a City, which is the centre,
the heart of the nation. As the people to the King, so is St. Paul’s
Cathedral to Westminster Abbey Church.