Lord Mayor, and then to John Best, Alderman, from whom it was purchased
by Sir Thomas More, the famous Lord Chancellor. Doubtless it was in the
chambers of Crosby Place that he wrote his _Utopia_. He sold the lease
to his beloved friend, Antonio Bonvisi, an Italian gentleman, who had
long lived in England; and when the Dissolution of Monasteries took
place, and the possessions of the Priory of St. Helen's were seized by
the Crown, the King allowed the Italian to retain possession of Crosby
Place. We need not record all its worthy owners. It was frequently used
as a fitting place for the lodging of foreign ambassadors, and here
Sir John Spencer, having restored the house, kept his mayoralty in
1594. Enormously wealthy, he lived in great splendour and entertained
lavishly. He was a great favourite of Queen Elizabeth. It was not
from Crosby Hall, but from his house at Canonbury, that his only
daughter effected her escape in a baker's basket in order to wed the
handsome Lord Compton. Terrible was the father's wrath, and everyone
knows the charming story of the Queen's tactful intervention, how she
induced Sir John to stand as sponsor with her for an unknown boy, whom
Sir John declared should be the heir of all his wealth, and how this
boy was, of course, Lady Compton's child, and how a full reconciliation
was effected. It is a very pretty story. It is not so pleasant to read
of the disastrous effect of the possession of so much wealth had on
the brain of Lord Compton, when he came into possession of his lady's
riches. She was a little vixenish, spoilt and exacting, if she really
intended seriously the literal meaning of that well-known letter which
she wrote setting forth her needs and requirements. It is too long to
quote. Lord Compton was created Earl of Northampton, and that precious
child of his when he grew to man's estate was killed fighting for the
Royalist cause in the Civil War.
During that disastrous time Crosby became a prison for Royalists, and
later on a great part of the house was destroyed by fire, and its
ancient glories departed. For a hundred years the Hall was used as a
Nonconformist chapel. In 1778 part of the premises was converted into
a place of business by Messrs. Holmes and Hall, the rest being used
as private dwellings. It provided a model for the banqueting-hall of
Arundel Castle, and some of the carved stones of the Council Chamber
were removed to Henley-upon-Thames to adorn a dairy. Alien buildings
soon covered the site of the destroyed portion of the old house. In
1831 it was left forlorn and untenanted, and in a state of considerable
decay. Then arose a considerable excitement, of which the struggle
of the present year reminds us. Crosby Hall was doomed. But zealous
lovers of the antiquities of the city determined to try to save it.
An appeal was made, and a restoration fund started, though, like many
other restoration funds, it proved itself inadequate. A benevolent
lady, Miss Hackett, gallantly came to the rescue, and practically saved
Crosby Hall. Her idea was to convert it into a lecture hall for the
Gresham Professors; but this plan came to nothing, though the building
was repaired, the south wall of the Throne and Council Chambers
being rebuilt. Then a company was formed to take over Miss Hackett's
interest, and the Crosby Hall Literary and Scientific Institution
was formed, but that scheme came to nothing. Then it was bought by
Messrs. F. Gordon & Co., who restored the building, attached to it an
annex of half-timbered construction, and converted the premises into
a restaurant. Thus it remained for several years. Recently the site
was acquired by a banking company, and its demolition was threatened.
Immediate action was taken by Sir Vesey Strong, the Lord Mayor, and
others, to save the building. The fight was fought strenuously and
bravely. Apathy was found in some quarters where it would least have
been expected, and all efforts were fruitless. It is deplorable to have
to record that the last of the mansions of the old city magnates has
been allowed to disappear, and that Crosby Hall is now only a memory.
THE PAGEANT OF LONDON
BY THE EDITOR
We have stated in the Preface that London needs no pageant or special
spectacular display in order to set forth its wonderful attractions.
London is in itself a pageant, far more interesting than any theatrical
representation; and in this final chapter we will enumerate some
of those other features of Old London life which have not found
description in the preceding pictures. We will "stand by and let the
pageant pass," or, rather, pass along the streets and make our own
pageant.
The great city is always changing its appearance, and travellers
who have not seen it for several years scarcely know where they are
when visiting some of the transformed localities. But however great
the change, the city still exercises its powerful fascination on
all who have once felt its strangely magnetic force, its singular
attractiveness. Though the London County Council have effected amazing
"improvements," constructing a street which nobody wants and nobody
uses, and spending millions in widening Piccadilly; though private
enterprise pulls down ancient dwellings and rears huge hotels and
business premises in their places--it is still possible to conjure up
the memories of the past, and to picture to ourselves the multitudinous
scenes of historic interest which Old London has witnessed. Learned
writers have already in these volumes enabled us to transport ourselves
at will to the London of bygone times--to the mediæval city, with its
monasteries, its churches, its palaces, its tragedies; to Elizabethan
London, bright and gay, with young life pulsing through its veins; to
the London of Pepys, with its merry-makings, its coarseness, and its
vice. In this concluding chapter we will recall some other memories,
and try to fill the background to the picture.
Westminster, the rival city, the city of the court, with its abbey and
its hall, we have not attempted to include in our survey. She must be
left in solitary state until, perhaps, a new volume of this series
may presume to describe her graces and perfections. The ever-growing
suburbs of the great city, the West End, the fashionable quarter,
Southern London across the river, with Lambeth and its memories of
archbishops--all this, and much else that deserves an honoured place in
the chronicles of the metropolis, we must perforce omit in our survey.
Some of the stories are too modern to please the taste of those who
revel in the past; and if the curious reader detects omissions, he may
console himself by referring to some of the countless other books and
guides which the attractions of London are ever forcing industrious
scribes to produce.
Christ's Hospital
Many regrets were expressed when it was found necessary to remove
this ancient school from London, and to destroy the old buildings. Of
course, "everything is for the best in this best of possible worlds."
Boys, like plants, thrive better in the open country, and London
fogs are apt to becloud the brain as well as injure health. But the
antiquary may be allowed to utter his plaint over the demolition of
the old features of London life. The memorials of this ancient school
cannot be omitted from our collection.
[Illustration: CHRIST'S HOSPITAL.]
We are carried back in thought to the Friars, clad in grey habits,
girt with cord, and sandal shod, who settled in the thirteenth century
on the north side of what we now call Newgate Street, and, by the
generosity of pious citizens, founded their monastery. Thus John Ewin
gave them the land in the ward of Farringdon Without, and in the parish
of St. Nicholas Shambles; William Joyner built the choir; William
Wallis the nave; William Porter the chapter house; Gregory Bokesby
the dormitories, furnishing it with beds; Bartholomew de Castello
the refectory, where he feasted the friars on St. Bartholomew's Day.
Queen Margaret, the second wife of Edward I., was a great benefactor
of the order, and advanced two thousand marks towards the cost of a
large church, which was completed in 1327, and was a noble structure,
300 feet in length, 89 feet in breadth, and 74 feet high. "Dick"
Whittington built for the friars a splendid library, which was finished
in 1424. The church was the favoured resting-place of the illustrious
dead. Four queens, four duchesses, four countesses, one duke, two
earls, eight barons, and some thirty-five knights reposed therein. In
the choir there were nine tombs of alabaster and marble, surrounded
by iron railings, and monuments of marble and brass abounded. The
dissolution of monasteries came with greedy Henry, and the place was
rifled. The crown seized the goodly store of treasure; the church
became a receptacle for the prizes taken from the French; and Sir
Martin Bowes, Mayor of London, for the sum of £50, obtained all the
beautiful tombs and brasses, marble and alabaster, which were carted
away from the desecrated shrine.
But Henry's conscience smote him. The death of Charles Brandon, Duke
of Suffolk, the King's boon companion, moved him "to bethink himself
of his end, and to do some good work thereunto," as Fuller states.
The church was reopened for worship, and Bishop Ridley, preaching at
Paul's Cross, announced the King's gift of the conventual grounds and
buildings, with the hospital of St. Bartholomew, for the relief of the
poor. Letters patent were issued in 1545, making over to the Mayor
and Commonalty of London for ever "the Grey Friars' Church, with all
the edifices and ground, the fratry, library, dortor, chapter-house,
great cloister, and the lesser tenements and vacant grounds, lead,
stone, iron, etc.; the hospital of St. Bartholomew, West Smithfield,
the church of the same, the lead, bells, and ornaments of the same
hospital, with all messuages, tenements, and appurtenances."
It was a poor return to the Church for all of that the King had robbed
her. Moreover, he did not altogether abandon a little profit. He made
the monastic church, now called the Christ Church, do duty for the
parishes of St. Nicholas in the Shambles, St. Ewins, and part of St.
Sepulchre, uniting these into one parish, and pulling down the churches
of the first two parishes. It would be curious to discover what became
of the endowments of these parishes, and of the fabrics.
[Illustration: Carrying the Crug-basket]
For some years nothing was done to further the cause of this charity,
but in 1552, when Bishop Ridley, who was a mightily convincing
preacher, was discoursing upon charity before Edward VI., the boy-King
was so moved that he conversed with the bishop, and, together with
the Lord Mayor and aldermen of the city, determined to found three
hospitals--Christ's Hospital for the education of poor children, St.
Thomas's for the relief of the sick and diseased, and Bridewell for
the correction and amendment of the idle and the vagabond. Before his
last illness, Edward had just strength enough to sign the charter for
the founding of these institutions, ejaculating: "Lord, I yield Thee
most hearty thanks that Thou hast given me life thus long to finish
this work to the glory of Thy name." The good citizens of London, with
their accustomed charity, immediately set to work, before the granting
of the charter, to subscribe money for the repair of the old monastic
buildings, and in 1552 three hundred and forty children were admitted,
not so much for educational purposes as for their rescue from the
streets, and the provision of shelter, food, and clothing. It must have
been a welcome sight to the citizens to see them clothed in livery of
russet cotton, the boys with red caps, the girls with kerchiefs on
their heads, lining the procession when the Lord Mayor and aldermen
rode to St. Paul's on Christmas Day. On the following Easter the boys
and "mayden children" were in "plonket," or blue--hence the hospital
derived the name of the Blue Coat School. The dress of the boys,
concerning the origin of which many fanciful interpretations have been
made, is the costume of the period generally worn by apprentices and
serving men, consisting of a long blue coat, with leathern girdle, a
sleeveless yellow waistcoat and yellow stockings, clerical bands and a
small black cap completing the dress. "Four thousand marks by the year"
from the royal exchequer were granted by the King for the maintenance
of the school, which sum was largely supplemented by the citizens and
other pious benefactors, such as Lady Ramsay, who founded "a free
writing schoole for poor men's children" at the hospital. Camden says
that at the beginning of the seventeenth century six hundred children
were maintained and educated, and one thousand two hundred and forty
pensioners relieved by the hospital in alms, and, later on, as many as
one thousand one hundred and twenty children were cared for by this
institution. The governors, moreover, started "place houses" in other
districts--at Hertford, Ware, Reading, and Bloxburn--where boys were
educated.
[Illustration: Wooden Platters and Beer Jack.]
The buildings were greatly injured by the fire of 1666, when the
old monastic church was entirely destroyed. The great hall was soon
rebuilt by Sir John Frederick, and then the famous Royal Mathematical
School was founded through the exertions of Sir Robert Clayton, Sir
Jonas Moore, Sir Christopher Wren, Sir Charles Scarbrough, and Samuel
Pepys. King Charles II. granted a charter and £1,000 a year for seven
years, and the forty boys who composed the school were called "King's
boys." They were instructed in navigation, and wore a badge on the
left shoulder. A subordinate mathematical school, consisting of
twelve scholars, denoted "the Twelves," who wore a badge on the right
shoulder, was subsequently formed. Pepys took a keen interest in the
school, and a series of a large number of his letters is in existence
which show the efforts he made to maintain the mathematical school. He
tells also of a little romance connected with the hospital, which is
worth recording. There was at that time a grammar school for boys and
a separate school for girls. Two wealthy citizens left their estates,
one to a bluecoat boy, and the other to a bluecoat girl. Some of
the governors thought that it would be well if these two fortunate
recipients were married. So a public wedding was arranged at the
Guildhall chapel, where the ceremony was performed by the Dean of St.
Paul's, the bride, supported by two bluecoat boys, being given away by
the Lord Mayor, and the bridegroom, attired in blue satin, being led to
the altar by two bluecoat girls.
[Illustration: Piggin: Wooden Spoon. Wooden Soup-ladle.]
A noble gift of Sir Robert Clayton enabled the governors to rebuild the
east cloister and south front. The writing school was erected by Sir
Christopher Wren in 1694, at the expense of Sir John Moore. The ward
over the east side cloister was rebuilt in 1705 by Sir Francis Child,
the banker, and in 1795 the grammar school was erected. Some of the
buildings of the old monastery survived until the beginning of the last
century, but they were somewhat ruinous and unsafe, hence, in 1803,
a great building fund was formed. The hall erected after the great
fire was pulled down, and a vast building in the Tudor style begun in
1825, which was so familiar to all who passed along the eastern end
of Holborn. John Shaw was the architect. You will remember the open
arcade, the buttresses and octagonal towers, and the embattled and
pinnacled walls, and, above all, you will remember the crowd of happy
boys, clad in their picturesque garb, kicking about the merry football.
The dining hall was one of the finest rooms in London, being 187 feet
long, 51 feet wide, and 47 feet high; lighted by nine large windows,
those on the south side being filled with stained glass. There hung the
huge charter picture, representing Edward VI. presenting the charter
to the Lord Mayor, the Chancellor, officers of State, and children of
the school being in attendance. This picture has been attributed to
Holbein, but since the event occurred in 1553, and that artist could
have produced no work later than 1534, the tradition is erroneous. Two
portraits of Edward VI. are also in the possession of the hospital
attributed to Holbein, but they have been proved to be the work of a
later artist. Verrio's portrait of Charles II., and his picture of
James II. receiving the mathematical boys, are very large canvases.
It is unnecessary to describe all the buildings which so recently
existed, but have now been swept away. It is more interesting to note
some of the curious customs which exist or formerly existed in the
school, and some of the noted of the old "Blues." Christ's Hospital was
a home of old customs, some of them, perhaps, little relished by the
scholars. Each boy had a wooden "piggin" for drinking small beer served
out of a leathern or wooden jack; a platter, spoon, and soup-ladle of
the same material. There was a quaint custom of supping in public on
Sundays during Lent, when visitors were admitted, and the Lord Mayor
or president of the governors sat in state. Quaint wooden candlesticks
adorned the tables, and, after the supper, were carried away in
procession, together with the tablecloths, crug-baskets, or baskets
used for carrying bread, bowls, jacks, and piggins. Before the supper
a hymn was sung, and a "Grecian," or head boy, read the prayers from
the pulpit, silence being enforced by three blows of a wooden hammer.
The supper then began, consisting of bread and cheese, and the visitors
used to walk about between the tables. Then followed the solemn
procession of the boys carrying their goods, and bowing repeatedly to
the governors and their guests. It was a pleasing custom, honoured
by the presence of many distinguished guests, and Queen Victoria and
Prince Albert on one occasion witnessed the spectacle.
[Illustration: CHRIST'S HOSPITAL: THE GARDEN.]
Then there were the annual orations on St. Matthew's Day, commemorating
the foundation of the school, and attended by the civic magnates.
A state service was held in Christ Church, Newgate Street, and,
afterwards, the Grecians delivered speeches, and a collection was made
for the support of these headboys when they went to the University.
The beadles delivered up their staves to the Court, and if no fault
was found with these officers their badges were returned to them. The
Company was regaled with "sweet cakes and burnt wine."
At Easter there were solemn processions--first, on Easter Monday, to
the Mansion House, when the Lord Mayor was escorted by the boys to
Christ Church to hear the Spital or hospital sermon. On Easter Tuesday
again the scholars repaired to the Mansion House, and were regaled
with a glass of wine, in lieu of which lemonade, in more recent times,
could be obtained, two buns, and a shilling fresh from the Mint,
the senior scholars receiving an additional sum, and the Grecians
obtained a guinea. Again the Spital sermon was preached. The boys were
entitled, by ancient custom, to sundry privileges--to address the
sovereign on his visiting the city, and the "King's boys" were entitled
to be presented at the first drawing-room of the season, to present
their charts for inspection, and to receive sundry gifts. By ancient
privilege they were entitled to inspect all the curiosities in the
Tower of London free of any charge, and these at one time included a
miniature zoological garden.
[Illustration: OLD STAIRCASE.]
Many are the notable men renowned in literature and art who have sprung
from this famous school. Charles Lamb, S. T. Coleridge, Leigh Hunt,
and countless other men might be mentioned who have done honour to
their school. Some of their recollections of old manners reveal some
strange educational methods--the severe thrashings, the handcuffing of
runaways, the confining in dungeons, wretched holes, where the boys
could just find room to lie down on straw, and were kept in solitary
confinement and fed worse than prisoners in modern gaols. Bread and
beer breakfasts were hardly the best diet for boys, and the meat does
not always appear to have been satisfactory. However, all these bygone
abuses have long ago disappeared. For some years the future of the
hospital was shrouded in uncertainty. At length it was resolved to
quit London, and now the old buildings have been pulled down, and the
school has taken a new lease of life and settled at Horsham, where
all will wish that it may have a long and prosperous career. We may
well conclude this brief notice of the old school in the words of the
School Commissioners of 1867, who stated: "Christ's Hospital is a thing
without parallel in the country and _sui generis_. It is a grand relic
of the mediæval spirit--a monument of the profuse munificence of that
spirit, and of that constant stream of individual beneficence, which
is so often found to flow around institutions of that character. It
has kept up its main features, its traditions, its antique ceremonies,
almost unchanged, for a period of upwards of three centuries. It has
a long and goodly list of worthies." We know not how many of these
antique ceremonies have survived its removal, but we venture to hope
that they may still exist, and that the authorities have not failed to
maintain the traditions that Time has consecrated.
The City Churches
In the pageant of London no objects are more numerous and conspicuous
than the churches which greet us at every step. In spite of the large
number which have disappeared, there are very many left. There they
stand in the centre of important thoroughfares, in obscure courts and
alleys--here surrounded by high towering warehouses; there maintaining
proud positions, defying the attacks of worldly business and affairs. A
whole volume would be required to do justice to the city churches, and
we can only glance at some of the most striking examples.