Mediæval London

Richard II. riding out of London to the War in Ireland.
From a MS. of Froissart’s Chronicles. British Museum, Harl. 4380.

Tudor Period.—Two Lord Mayors and six Aldermen died of the sweating sickness in the first year of Henry the Seventh’s reign. The citizens, as we have already noted, had been accustomed to practise archery north of the city. A regular field was enclosed for them in 1498 in Finsbury, which was the origin of the present Artillery ground. The river Fleet was made navigable as far as Holborn Bridge, and Houndsditch was arched over. Henry VIII. built the royal palaces of St. James’s and Bridewell. Stricter rules were made for the preservation of order, nuisances were removed, and the streets were widened and paved. The first Act for the pavement and improvement of London describes the streets as “very foul and full of pits and sloughs, very perilous and noyous, as well for all the King’s subjects on horseback as well as on foot and with carriages.”

We should note the sumptuary law passed by the Mayor and Common Council in 1543 by which the Mayor was ordered to confine himself to seven dishes at dinner or supper; the Aldermen and Sheriffs to six; and the Sword-bearer to four.

In the reign of Edward VI. the hospitals of St. Thomas, St. Bartholomew, and Christ were founded, and the palace of Bridewell was also converted into a hospital. The borough of Southwark was constituted a ward of the city.

Passing over the terrible martyr-fires of Smithfield in the days of Mary, we come to the reign of Elizabeth, a very prosperous one as far as London was concerned. The refugees from Alva’s cruelties in the Netherlands found a home in London, and did wonders for the improvement of its manufactures. There were, as elsewhere, extravagances in the way of spectacles and tournaments, and much opportunity was seized to flatter Gloriana, who was nowise averse thereto. It was apparently looked upon as always the correct thing, to flatter sovereigns. The Preface to the Authorised Version of the Bible and Bacon’s Dedication of his Advancement of Learning will be sufficient illustrations of this. Here is the inscription to a monument to Queen Elizabeth, which was put up in the Church of All Hallows the Great in Dowgate:—

“Spain’s rod, Rome’s ruin, Netherlands’ relief,
Heaven’s gem, Earth’s joy, World’s wonder, Nature’s chief.
Britain’s blessing, England’s splendour,
Religion’s nurse, and Faith’s defender.”

In the neighbouring Church of St. Michael, Crooked Lane, the same year, was set up the following inscription. The contrast is refreshing:—

“Here lieth, wrapt in clay,
The body of William Ray.
I have no more to say.”

Soon after the accession of Elizabeth, Ralph Aggas published a very curious plan and view of London, with the title Civitas Londinensis. It reveals how much of field and garden there was then in the very heart of the city. The most crowded part was from Newgate Street, Cheapside, and Cornhill to the river. With the exception of Coleman Street, and a few scattered buildings from Lothbury to Billingsgate and from Bishopsgate to the Tower, all (N. and E.) was open or garden ground. Whitechapel was a small village; Houndsditch, a single row of houses opposite the city walls, opened behind into the fields; Spitalfields, from the back of the church, lay entirely open; Goswell Street was known as the road to St. Albans; St. Giles’s was a small cluster of houses, known then, as indeed it is still, as “St. Giles’s in the Fields.” Beyond, all was country, both N. and W., Oxford Street having trees and hedges on both sides. As late as 1778 a German writer on London speaks of Tyburn, the place of execution, as being “two miles from London.” From Oxford Street round to Piccadilly there was a road, called the Way from Reading, proceeding through Hedge Lane and the Haymarket—which avenues were entirely destitute of houses—to St. James’s Hospital, afterwards the Palace; and a few small buildings on the site of Carlton House were all that existed of the present Pall Mall. Leicester Square was open fields; St. Martin’s Lane had only a few buildings above the church toward the Convent Garden, which extended to Drury Lane. The Strand was a street with houses; those on the South side had gardens right down to the river, and were the property of nobles, as mentioned in another chapter; the present Treasury occupies-the site of the Cockpit and Tilt Yard; opposite to it stood the Palace of Whitehall, which since the days of Henry VIII. was occupying the former residence of the Archbishop of York. From King Street, which has this year disappeared, to the Abbey the buildings were close and connected, as also from Whitehall to Palace Yard. The noblemen who lived in the Strand used to proceed to the Court at Whitehall in their own barges from their River ‘stairs,’ and retained a number of watermen, whom their livery protected from impressment. On the Surrey side there were but six or seven houses between Lambeth Palace and the shore opposite Whitefriars. There a line of houses with gardens began which was continued to the Bishop of Winchester’s Palace, where now is Barclay and Perkins’s Brewery. Opposite Queenhithe was a great circular building for bull and bear-baiting. It was largely patronised, by Queen Elizabeth among others. Southwark extended but a little way down High Street. London Bridge was crowded with buildings. Along Tooley Street to Horsley Down there were many buildings.

Such was London towards the end of what we have defined as the Mediæval period. But it was, thanks to the enterprise of the time, on the rapid move. The citizens were able to send sixteen ships fully equipped, and armed with 10,000 men, against the Spanish Armada. In 1594 the Thames water was first raised for the supply of the city. In 1613 Sir Hugh Myddleton completed the New River. In 1616 the paving of the streets with flagstones was first introduced. Many years, however, were to elapse before sanitary science could be called in for the public health. In 1603 the plague destroyed 30,578 lives.

CHAPTER II.

The old hall, which Stow describes as “a little cottage,” was replaced by “a large and great house as now it standeth,” in 1411. The building occupied ten years, the funds being procured from gifts of the livery guilds, fees, fines, and money payments in discharge of offences. The porch and crypt have survived in much of their original beauty. The former consists of two vaulted bays richly groined, with moulded principal and secondary ribs, the intersections being adorned with sculptured bosses, the two principal of which bear the arms of Edward the Confessor and Henry VI.

The porch was known as the Guildhall Gate, and there was a lower gate which was probably situated in a line with the Church of St. Lawrence Jewry, in Gresham Street.

The crypt is one of the best of the few mediæval examples remaining in London. It forms the eastern portion of the sub-structure of the hall, and is 76 feet by 45¼, with an average height of 13 feet 7 inches. It is divided into three equal portions by clustered columns of Purbeck marble, from which spring the stone-ribbed groins of the vaulting. The bosses at the intersections are all carved with devices of the usual mediæval character, and include the arms assigned to the Confessor and those of the See and City of London.

Of these crypts—a beautiful feature of ancient architecture in which London formerly abounded—the great part have disappeared. There are those of the Church of St. Bartholomew the Great, Smithfield; Bow Church, Cheapside (used for burial purposes); Etheldreda’s Chapel, Ely Place; the Priory Church of St. John, Clerkenwell; Lambeth Palace; Merchant Taylors’ Hall; and St. Stephen’s Chapel, Westminster. Several fine examples have been destroyed within quite recent times, including the crypt or Lower Chapel of Old London Bridge, Gerard’s Hall crypt in Basing Lane, and that under the Manor of the Rose in Lawrence Pountney Hill, the two latter buildings being fine examples of the houses of distinguished citizens. To this tale of destruction must be added the crypts of Lamb’s Chapel in Monkwell Street, Leathersellers’ Hall, St. Martin’s-le-Grand, and St. Michael, Aldgate.

The Guildhall was, in a very real sense, the centre of civic government. In early times the Mayor, Aldermen, and Sheriffs were practically the King’s servants, and responsible to him at their personal peril for the good and quiet government of the city. For this purpose an adequate authority was conferred upon the civic magnates over the life and liberty of each individual citizen. The city was divided into twenty-five wards, over each of which an Alderman presided, who was responsible for its good government to the Mayor. Severe was the punishment for an insult offered to one of these dignitaries. In 1388, Richard Bole, a butcher, for insulting William Wotton, alderman of Dowgate, was, by order of the Mayor, imprisoned in Newgate, and ordered, as a penance, to carry a lighted torch, with head uncovered and bare legs and feet, from his stall in St. Nicholas’ Shambles to the Chapel of the Guildhall. Rough-and-ready justice was administered by the Mayor and his brethren, the Aldermen. In 1319, William Spertyng, who was found guilty of exposing for sale at the shambles two putrid carcases, was sentenced to be put in the pillory, and to have the carcases burnt beneath him. A vintner named John Penrose, convicted in 1364 of selling bad wine, was ordered to drink a draught of the “same wine which he sold to the people,” the remainder to be poured on his head, and he to forswear the calling of a vintner in the City of London for ever. For giving short weight, in 1377, two charcoal dealers were set in the stocks on Cornhill, whilst six of their badly filled sacks were burnt beside them. A baker, for selling bread of light weight, was dragged through the city on a hurdle with the offending loaf hung about his neck. An illustration of this punishment is given in an ancient book belonging to the city records, known as the “Liber de assisa panis.” Another punishment which must have been sufficiently deterrent was that of whipping at the cart’s tail for petty larceny and other minor offences.

One of the most ancient prisons of the city was the Tun, in Cornhill, the site of which is still marked by the Cornhill pump. The prison consisted of a wooden cage, with a pillory and pair of stocks attached. Below it was the conduit built by Henry Wallis, Mayor, in 1282.

The City Gates were also used for the confinement of prisoners, chiefly Ludgate and Newgate; the former was devoted to prisoners for debt, and the latter to those charged with criminal offences. The scanty accommodation afforded by these structures caused grievous suffering to the unhappy offenders, gaol-fever frequently breaking out, and raging not only amongst the prisoners themselves, but also among the judges and other officials of the neighbouring Courts of Justice.

Close by, on the east side of Farringdon Street, near Ludgate Circus of to-day, was the Fleet Prison, which, like that of Ludgate, had a grate, behind which the prisoners used to beg for relief from the passers by. Its early history can be traced back to the period of the Conquest; it formed part of the ancient possessions of the See of Canterbury, and was held in conjunction with the Manor of Leveland, in Kent, and with the “King’s Houses” at Westminster. The wardenship or sergeancy was anciently held by eminent personages, who also had custody of the King’s Palace at Westminster. This, with other city prisons, was burnt down by the followers of Wat Tyler in Richard the Second’s reign.

Besides the King’s prisons were the Compters, or city prisons, two in number—one belonging to each of the Sheriffs. They were used for the confinement of debtors, for remands and committals for trial, and for the custody of minor offenders.

The great prosperity of the City of London brought its citizens a large measure of wealth and influence. They were thus enabled, by gifts and loans to the various English sovereigns, who had constantly to contend with financial difficulties, to secure for themselves franchises and liberties far exceeding those of any other city or town. In several of their early charters they are addressed by the King as his Barons of the City of London. These privileges, or some of them, were frequently revoked by the early kings for real or alleged offences on the part of the citizens, but were always re-granted on the payment of a sufficient fine.

William the Conqueror’s charter, as we have seen, is still preserved in the Guildhall. King John granted the Londoners the right of electing their Mayor, and in the following reign they were permitted to present their newly elected Mayor for the King’s approval to the Barons of the Exchequer whenever the King was absent from Westminster. Previous to the election of a new Mayor, a religious service, consisting of the Mass of the Holy Ghost, was held in the Chapel of St. Mary Magdalen, adjoining the Guildhall. The ceremony of swearing in the new Mayor on the day before his assumption of office still takes place annually at the Guildhall, and has probably but little altered during the last four centuries. Besides presiding over the Court of Aldermen and the Courts of Common Council, Common Hall, and Husting, it was the duty of the Mayor, assisted by the Recorder and Common Serjeant, to administer justice in the Mayor’s Court, as well as at the Newgate Sessions. He also attended St. Paul’s Cathedral in state on several occasions in the year, as well as minor religious services at the Guildhall Chapel and elsewhere. The religious processions on these occasions, and the secular pageantry which was still more frequent, were ardently looked forward to by the citizens and their apprentices as an excuse for a holiday. Chaucer, speaking of the city apprentice of his day, says that—

“When there any riding was in Chepe
Out of the shoppe thider wold he lepe,
And till that he had all the sight ysene
And danced well, he would not come agen.”

The great City Fairs were opened by the Mayor with much state, the proceedings displaying a curious mixture of religious and secular ceremonial. To open the Fair of Our Lady in Southwark, the Mayor and Sheriffs rode to St. Magnus’ Church, after dinner, at two o’clock in the afternoon. They were attended by the Sword-bearer and other officials, and were met by the Aldermen in their scarlet gowns. After evening prayer, the whole of the company rode over the bridge in procession, and, after passing through the fair, returned to the Bridge House, where a banquet was provided for them. With equal solemnity, the well-known Fair of St. Bartholomew in Smithfield was opened by the civic fathers. Here a Court of Piepowder[2] was held for settling disputes without delay, this Court being described by Blackstone as being the most expeditious court of justice known to the law of England.

The chief pageant of the year was that prepared for the Mayor of London upon his installation into office. The origin of these “ridings,” as they were termed, dates back to King John’s charter of 1215, already mentioned, which stipulated that, after his election by the citizens, the new Mayor should be submitted to the King for approval.

From this originated the procession to Westminster, when the Mayor was accompanied by the Aldermen and chief citizens on horseback, with minstrels and other attendants. For nearly two centuries the procession retained much of its original simplicity. The first recorded instance of a pageant approaching the character of the spectacles of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries occurs in the year 1415. John Wells, Grocer, was Mayor, and three wells running with wine were exhibited at the conduit in Cheapside, attended by three virgins to personate Mercy, Grace, and Pity, who gave of the wine to all comers. These wells were surrounded with trees laden with oranges, almonds, lemons, dates, &c., in allusion to the Mayor’s trade and Company.

The greatest of these spectacular efforts were reserved for Royal visits to the City. On the return of Edward I. from his Scottish victory in 1298, Stow tells us “every citizen, according to their severall trades, made their several shew, but specially the fishmongers, which in a solempne procession passed through the citie, having amongst other pageants and shews foure sturgeons gilt, carried on foure horses; then foure salmons of silver on foure horses, and after them sixe and fortie armed knights riding on horses, made like sluces of the sea; and then one representing St. Magnus (because it was on St. Magnus’s day) with a thousand horsemen,” &c. At the Coronation procession of Henry IV., in 1399, there were seven fountains in Cheapside running with red and white wine. The King was escorted by a large number of gentlemen with their servants in liveries and hoods; and the City Companies attended, clothed in their proper liveries, and bearing banners of their trade. When Henry V. arrived at Dover from France in 1415, the Mayor, Aldermen, and “craftsmen” rode to Blackheath to meet the King on his road to Eltham with his prisoners. They were attended by three hundred of the chief citizens, uniformly clad, well mounted, and wearing rich collars and chains of gold.

Another picturesque ceremony was the Marching Watch, on the Eve of St. John the Baptist and St. Peter’s Eve, which developed at a later period into a costly and sumptuous pageant. Elaborate dresses were worn both by the citizens who attended in the procession and by the men who carried cressets and other lights. The Mayor’s household, from small beginnings, came eventually to consist of nearly forty officers under the control of the four esquires, who were the Sword-bearer, the Common Hunt, the Common Crier, and the Water Bailiff. To these must be added the Lord Mayor’s Jester or Fool; the name of one who held this office, Kit Largosse, has come down to us.

The office of Common Hunt recalls the hunting privileges of the Mayor and citizens. Under the charter of Henry I., dated 1101, the citizens received a grant and confirmation of their “chaces” to hunt “as well and fully as their ancestors had” in the forests of Middlesex and Surrey, and on the Chiltern Hills. This much-valued right has long since been commuted by the grant of venison warrants, under which the Lord Mayor, Sheriffs, with the Recorder and other officers, still receive deer from the Royal forests to the total number of twelve bucks and twelve does annually.

The city sceptre is undoubtedly of Anglo-Saxon date, but the rest of the civic insignia—city purse, mace, and swords of state—belong to Tudor or later times. There are two city seals: one, the corporate seal, with an ancient obverse of St. Paul, bearing a sword and banner surrounded by the inscription, “Sigillum Baronum Londoniarum;” the reverse originally bore the effigy of St. Thomas a Becket, for which, in 1530, the city arms were substituted. The other seal, that of the mayoralty, was made in 1381 to replace an older seal. It bears the images of St. Peter and St. Paul with the arms of the city beneath, supported by two lions; the encircling legend is, “Sigillum Officii Majoratus Civitatis Londini.”

The Court of Common Council had an origin subsequent to that of the Court of Mayor and Aldermen. In 1273, divers men whose names are recorded in the city books were elected by the whole community to consult with the Mayor and Aldermen on the affairs of the city. This method of election gave way, in 1347, to the selection of representatives from each ward. Under a precept of Edward III., in 1376, the representation of the commonalty was transferred from the men of the wards to the men of the guilds, each of the latter nominating from two to six of their number as members of the Common Council. This lasted until 1383, when the right of election was restored to the wards, and a proportionate number of representatives assigned to each. Both the Lord Mayor and Aldermen formed then, as now, constituent parts of the Court of Common Council.

The office of Sheriff of London dates back to a period before the Norman Conquest, and its origin cannot be traced. King Henry I., soon after his accession in 1100, granted to the citizens of London the revenues of the county of Middlesex to farm, on their paying an annual rent of 300l., and gave them liberty also to appoint from among themselves a sheriff to receive the demesne dues. The Sheriff of Middlesex therefore represented the whole body of citizens acting in their corporate capacity, the duties of the office being performed by the two sheriffs jointly. The election of sheriffs took place annually at Guildhall on Midsummer Day, the liverymen of the various Companies being there assembled in Common Hall for that purpose. In civic ceremonials the sheriffs ranked below the aldermen, being, in fact, the Mayor’s deputies as they are styled by John Carpenter, Common Clerk in the time of Sir Richard Whittington. Each sheriff had a Court, in which he sat as judge; and, besides other obligations to the Sovereign and the Mayor, they were responsible for the safe keeping of the prisoners in the city prisons, as well as for the carrying out of sentence on those capitally condemned. They also had their “ridings” when they attended to be sworn into office, and were accompanied by the members of their guild with drummers and minstrels.

Before leaving the subject of the Corporation, we may pause for a moment to recall some of the more striking scenes which have taken place at the Guildhall. The fine building, when at length completed at the close of the reign of Henry IV., was a beautiful and conspicuous object with its high-pitched roof and two handsome louvres. Among the principal contributors to this great work were the King himself, all the aldermen, who between them glazed the windows, and Sir Richard Whittington, who, by his executors, paved the hall with Purbeck stone. In January, 1308, Queen Isabella, the wife of Edward II., wrote from Windsor to the Mayor, Aldermen, and Commonalty of London to inform them of the birth of her son. The whole of the week following was given up to solemn thanksgivings mingled with festivities, the latter including a sumptuous repast at the Guildhall, “which was excellently well tapestried and dressed out.” Another sumptuous entertainment took place in May, 1357, in honour of Edward the Black Prince and his prisoner, John, king of France. One of the last public acts of Sir Richard Whittington as Mayor was to entertain in princely fashion Henry V. and his Queen at the Guildhall. This was one of the earliest occasions of the use of the new building for such a purpose. At this banquet Whittington is reported, with what truth it is impossible now to determine, to have thrown into the fire bonds under which the King was indebted to him to the extent of some 60,000l.

Scenes of a sterner kind have cast their shadows over the memories which surround this ancient hall. One of the earliest trials recorded to have taken place beneath its roof arose out of a conflict between the poulterers and fishmongers in the year 1340. The Lord Mayor and Sheriffs, while endeavouring to suppress the riot, were assaulted; two of the ringleaders, having been arrested, were brought for trial to the Guildhall. They were at once condemned to death by Andrew Aubrey, the Mayor, and were forthwith beheaded in Cheapside. The King, on being informed of the matter, commended the Mayor for the action which he had so promptly taken. Others who suffered in mediæval times, after condemnation in Guildhall, were Master Roger and Master Thomas, who were tried for treason and sorcery in 1441; Roger Bolingbroke, found guilty in the same year of conspiracy against Henry VI.; and Lord Say, who was brought from the Tower to Guildhall to be tried in July, 1450. Guildhall was the scene of a momentous decision on June 24th, 1483, when the Duke of Buckingham, who had been sent by the Protector Gloucester to win the citizens of London over to his cause, drew from them a most unwilling consent to the proclamation of his patron as King Richard III.

There were two important buildings within the precincts of Guildhall. Adjoining the Guildhall Chapel, and placed under the charge of its College of priests and chaplains, was a “fair Library” founded by Richard Whittington, through his executors, and by the executors of William Bury, in 1425. The building stood by itself, and was substantially built with an upper and lower floor. It was known as the “common library at Guildhall,” and John Carpenter, Common Clerk, one of Whittington’s executors, left a selection of his books at the discretion of his executors, to be chained in the Library for the use of its visitors and students. The story of the despoiling of this noble institution belongs to a later period, when the Protector Somerset, not content with destroying churches and mansions to build himself a Palace in the Strand, in the year 1550 borrowed all the books from Whittington’s Library at Guildhall and never returned them. Blackwell Hall, another famous building, adjoined Guildhall Chapel to the south, facing Guildhall Yard. The building was originally the property of the Basings and the Cliffords, and passed subsequently to the Banquelles or Blackwells, whence its name was derived. Reverting afterwards into the hands of the Crown, it was sold in 1398 by Richard II. to the Mayor and Corporation for 50l., and was then thrown open as a market-place for the sale of all descriptions of woollen cloth. The appointment of keeper of Blackwell Hall was in later times vested in the Drapers’ Company.

The origin of the Livery Companies is wrapped in impenetrable obscurity. The attempt to trace them back to Roman times, though put forth by some writers of authority, is entirely wanting in evidence for its support; and the want of continuity in the early history of this country between Roman and later times forbids the acceptance of such a theory. Other writers have found the origin of the Guilds in the Gilda Mercatoria or Guild Merchant, but this view is equally without evidence, as in London no traces of the existence of a Guild Merchant are to be found. The derivation of the term “Guild” is from the Anglo-Saxon verb “gildan,” to pay, and the primary obligation of each member of a guild was to contribute his fixed annual payment to the common fund of the brotherhood; his other duties included attendance at the business and religious meetings of the guild, and at the funerals of deceased brethren. Two, at least, of the Guilds—the Saddlers and the Weavers—clearly date back to the Anglo-Saxon period. At the west end of Chepe, and on its north side, was a locality known as the Saddlery of West Chepe. In its midst, adjoining Foster Lane, was Saddlers’ Hall, and close by, to the west, were the precincts of the ancient monastery of St. Martin-le-Grand. The two institutions were on friendly terms, as is shown by a document in the Chapter House, Westminster, undated, but ascribed to the latter half of the twelfth century, which records the terms of a convention between the Guild and the church, the substance of which is as follows:—In return for the prayers of the Brethren of St. Martin for the souls of the members of the Fraternity of Saddlers, both living and deceased, the Saddlers covenant to make their offerings at St. Martin’s shrine, and to pay all other lawful demands. This deed, within one hundred years of the Conquest, makes mention of ancient statutes then existing between the two bodies; there is consequently little doubt that the origin of the Guild of Saddlers belongs to Anglo-Saxon times. The Guild of Weavers is at least of equal antiquity. This powerful body paid the sum of 16l. into the King’s Exchequer in the year 1130 by the hand of Robert, son of Lefstan, who was probably Alderman of their Guild, the head of a guild being known by the title of Alderman in the earliest times.

It is not easy to decide whether the guilds were at first bodies of London artificers who were subsequently associated for religious and social purposes, or whether they had their origin on the social and religious side, their connection with a particular trade being of subsequent date. In either case the association between the guild and the craft must, from the conditions of London society in the Middle Ages, have inevitably arisen. The different trades were located in separate districts of the city. Besides the Saddlers, there were the Goldsmiths of West Chepe, the Mercers further east, the Poultry adjoining, the Pepperers of Soper Lane; Cordwainer Street, where the shoemakers lived; Threadneedle Street, the home of the tailors; Stocks Market for the fishmongers, the Shambles for the butchers, Bread Street for the bakers, the Vintry for the wine-sellers or vintners, and so on.

It seems most probable that in the first instance the association between guild and craft was a local one, namely that of neighbours who met together for purposes of good-fellowship and for association in religious duties. This view is strengthened by the fact that all the older guilds have a patron saint, on whose day their annual elections were held with full civic and religious formalities, which survive in many of their details to the present day. Thus, the Fraternities of the Mercers, Drapers, Pewterers, and other Guilds were dedicated to the Virgin Mary. The Haberdashers possess a patron saint in St. Catherine; the Goldsmiths in St. Dunstan, the famous artificer in metals and courageous Bishop of London in Saxon times. The Vintners claim St. Martin for their patron, and St. Cecilia is the patroness of the Musicians’ Company. St. Anthony is the patron of the Grocers’ Company, St. Clement presides over the destinies of the Founders, and the Barber-Surgeons are under the protection of two saints, viz., St. Cosmo and St. Damian.

Henry II. amerced several of the guilds as “adulterine,” that is, set up, without the King’s licence, among them being the Goldsmiths, Pepperers, and Butchers. Henry III. granted charters to the Cappers and Parish Clerks, and confirmed that of the Burrillers or Cloth Dressers; and Edward I., his successor, incorporated the Fishmongers, and the Linen Armourers or Merchant Taylors. In the following reign was laid the foundation of the municipal functions and privileges of the guilds. Edward II., in his charter to the Mayor and citizens, ordered that no person should be admitted to the Freedom of the City unless he were a member of one of the trades or mysteries.

Up to this period, the control of the various crafts and trades carried on within the City had been directly in the hands of the Court of Mayor and Aldermen, who summoned to their aid when necessary the leading men of any particular trade, with whose concerns they were occupied for the time being. Owing to the growing importance of the guilds and their recognition by Royal incorporation, the City fathers gladly delegated to them the settlement of minor trade matters and disputes, and permitted them to draw up draft Ordinances for the regulation of their trade. These Ordinances were then submitted to the legal officers of the city, and if found not to conflict with the privileges of other crafts, the rights of the City itself, and those of the citizens in general, they were duly sanctioned by the Court of Aldermen.

The transformation of the Guilds or Fraternities into Crafts or Mysteries was rapidly effected in the reign of Edward III. That monarch, recognising that these societies had a powerful influence in extending the trade of the kingdom, showed them especial favour. To many he granted Charters of Incorporation, under which the head of the Company was styled the Master or Warden, instead of the old title of Alderman; the privileges which they had previously exercised by prescription being now confirmed by letters patent. The King himself became a member of the Linen Armourers’ Company, and his example was followed by his successor, Richard II., and by large numbers of the nobility, both of the clergy and laity. Among the other Companies so honoured were the Mercers and Skinners, and, at a later date, the Grocers and Fishmongers.

During this reign also a new grade or rank was established among the members of each craft, namely that of Liverymen. They were distinguished from the ordinary members or freemen by a distinctive dress or livery, and by higher privileges, the chief of which was that the selection of members of the governing body, or Court of Assistants, was made solely from the liverymen. An interesting example of the “clothing” or livery in the fifteenth century is depicted on the charter granted by Henry VI., in 1444, to the Leathersellers’ Company. The dress is parti-coloured of red and blue divided into equal halves after the peculiar fashion of the period. It is furred at the bottom, at the sleeves and round the collar, and closed at the waist by a light-coloured girdle. The figures have the hair closely cropped, and wear scarlet pantaloons peaked at the toes.

An important Act passed in 1364 obliged all artificers and people of mysteries to choose each his own mystery, and, having so chosen it, to use no other. At the close of Edward the Third’s reign, in 1376, a further ordinance was made, as we have seen, by the City Commonalty, transferring the right to elect all City dignitaries and officers, including members of Parliament, from the ward representatives to the members of the Trade Guilds. The right of electing members of the Common Council was soon restored to the inhabitants of the wards, but the election of the Lord Mayor, Sheriffs, Chamberlain, and other officers has continued in the hands of the livery down to the present day, a privilege unique in the history of the country.

From an early period certain of the chief Companies have been separated from the remaining Guilds, and known as the Twelve Great Companies, the rest of the Companies following after them in an acknowledged precedence. The Twelve Companies were distinguished by their greater wealth, and the Lord Mayor was obliged as a necessary qualification for office to be a member of one of these Guilds.

The inner life of these ancient Guilds, which were in high prosperity during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, abounds in features of quaint and picturesque interest. The chief event of annual importance in the life of the Guild was the Election Day, with its religious services, feasts, and ceremonies. A solemn dirge or requiem was held on the Eve of the Festival for the repose of the souls of the deceased brethren and sisters of the Fraternity. The procession was lighted by numerous wax torches, garnished with “points” (i.e., bows) and streamers of ribbon. A frugal repast followed, consisting of a kilderkin of ale, white buns, cheese, and spiced bread. The important proceedings of the following day, that of the festival itself, began with a solemn performance of grand mass at one of the great monastic churches or at one of the larger parish churches, the musical part of the service being rendered by the Company of Parish Clerks. The brethren attended in their new liveries, and the invited guests included Priors, Abbots, noblemen, and the Mayor and Corporation, with the chief City officials. From the church they returned in the same state to the Hall to dinner, but first the chief business of the day, the election of the new Master and Wardens proceeded with all due formality. The retiring Master and Wardens entered with garlands on their heads, preceded by the beadle and by minstrels playing. Then the garlands were taken off, and after a little show of trying whose heads among the assistants the said garlands best fitted, it was found by a remarkable coincidence that the persons previously chosen were the right wearers. The oath of office was then administered; a loving cup was next brought in, from which the old Master and Wardens drink to the new Master and Wardens, who, being now fully installed in their offices, were duly acknowledged by the fraternity.

Richard II. delivered by Bolingbroke to the Citizens of London.
From a MS. of the Metrical History of Richard II. by François de Marque.
British Museum, Harl. 1319.

We have been talking of Royal processions and their spectacular beauty. Our illumination gives us one scene of a tragic character. On the 1st of September, 1399, Bolingbroke, duke of Lancaster, conveyed Richard II. as a prisoner to London. He was taken to Westminster, and next day to the Tower. On the 30th, in Westminster Hall (which he had rebuilt), the unhappy King was declared deposed, amid uproarious shouts of joy, and Bolingbroke immediately rose and claimed the vacant throne. His claim was acknowledged, and the two Archbishops placed him in the royal seat. The French inscription tells how “the commons and the mob” of London led away their King to Westminster, while the Duke turned and entered by the “maistre porte” of London—“washing his hands of him,” adds the old chronicler, “like Pilate.”

CHAPTER III.

The great obstacle to the navigation of the river was the picturesque but obstructive Old London Bridge. Its numerous narrow arches, whose piers rested on huge sterlings, caused so great a fall in the stream that the passage through was a feat which none but experienced boatmen could safely attempt. John Mowbray, the second Duke of Norfolk, a companion of Henry V. in his French wars, nearly perished here in 1428. Taking barge with his retinue at St. Mary Overy, he prepared to pass through the bridge; but, through unskilful steering, the barge struck against the piles, and was overturned. Several of the party perished, but the Duke and two or three other gentlemen saved themselves by leaping on to the piles, and were drawn up with ropes to the bridge above.

The great fall of the rushing tide through the narrow arches is well shown in the earliest known view of the bridge, which is given in the beautiful illumination of the manuscript poems of Charles, duke of Orleans, who was a prisoner in the Tower of London. The date of this interesting pictorial record has been assigned to the year 1500.

The bridge consisted of a drawbridge and nineteen broad-pointed arches, with massive piers varying in breadth from twenty-five to thirty-four feet. Outside the piers were immense wooden sterlings, which were probably added later to keep the foundations of the piers from being undermined. By these obstructions the entire channel of the river was reduced from its normal breadth of 900 feet to a total waterway of 194 feet, or less than one-fourth of the whole.

Peter of Colechurch was the architect and builder of London Bridge, replacing the older wooden bridge by a stone structure which was finished in 1176. The weakness of the new building, however, soon showed itself. In 1280, less than eighty years after its completion, the bridge was so decayed that men were afraid to pass over it, and a subsidy was granted towards its restoration. A hundred years later its condition engaged the attention of “a great collection or gathering of all archbishops, bishops, and other persons.” Notwithstanding the counsels of this distinguished assembly, things went from bad to worse; and in a professional survey made in 1425, one of the arches was found to be cracked, and the water-course of the Thames was seen below. This was the reason of an Act made by the Court of Aldermen, that no person should drive a cart or car shod with iron over the bridge, upon pain of “punishment of his body and to pay 6s. 8d.” In 1492, a reward of five shillings was given to John Johnson, that the King’s “great gonne should not pass over the bridge, but rather by another way.” “The other way” involved at this date a journey up river to Kingston, where the first bridge was to be found.

For the greater part of its length, houses were built completely over the bridge, leaving only three vacancies, one an open space called the Square, not far from the city, and another at the Southwark end where the drawbridge was. The thoroughfare passed through the centre of the bridge beneath the houses, forming a kind of tunnel with shops on either side. As there was no footway, it was the safest and most usual custom to follow a carriage which might be passing across.

The practice of erecting houses on bridges frequently prevailed in early times, the object doubtless being to secure property for the maintenance of the bridge. In many instances, too, a chapel was added. A curious instance of this custom was on the bridge at Droitwich, where the road passed through the chapel, and separated the congregation from the reading-desk and pulpit. Another famous bridge chapel was erected over the river Calder at Wakefield.

London Bridge had a beautiful chapel dedicated to St. Thomas of Acon, and consisting of two floors, the upper being on a level with the Bridge road, and the lower only slightly above the level of the river, its apartment occupying the interior of the chapel pier. Another notable building was the Bridge Gate or Tower, situated at a distance of about one-third of the length from the Southwark end, and forming the boundary limit between the City and that borough. Adjoining it on the Surrey side was the drawbridge, which could be lowered for the passage of vessels up the river, and for defence of the City from the south in times of invasion. Another tower stood almost at the entrance into Southwark, on the second pier. Here, in 1263, Simon de Montfort forced a passage into the city. In 1471 the Kentish Mariners, under the bastard Falconbridge, burnt the gate, and some fourteen houses on the bridge. Sir Thomas Wyatt, in 1554, was repulsed, after a determined attack on the bridge and its defenders; not, however, before he had attacked the Bishop of Winchester’s palace at the bridge foot, and cut to pieces all his books, “so that men might have gone up to their knees in the leaves so torn out.” Over this tower the traitors’ heads were fixed in the sixteenth century, having been removed from the Gate Tower, north of the drawbridge. These gates were decorated with leafy boughs and garlands of flowers on Midsummer Day. On the west wall, set up in 1492, was a statue of the patron and supposed guardian of the bridge and City, St. Thomas of Canterbury.

From a period which may perhaps be assigned to the earlier part of the thirteenth century, enterprising City tradesmen had availed themselves of the excellent business situation of the bridge thoroughfare. A grant of the above-named period exists, made to the fraternity and proctors of the bridge, of “one shop upon the bridge, between the shop of Andrew le Ferun and the shop of the bridge.” The shops with their various quaint signs tempted the wayfarer with a great variety of enticing wares. The Bridge Records of the fourteenth century refer to the trades of Cutter, Pouchmaker, Glover, Goldsmith, and Bowyer. At a later date we meet with the sign of the “Three Shepherds,” “The Botell,” “Floure-de-Lice,” “Horshede,” “Ravynshede,” “Bell,” “Bore,” “Cheker,” “Castell,” “Bulle,” “Whyte Horse,” “Panyer,” “Tonne,” the “Nonnes,” “Holy Lambe,” the “Chales” (chalice), “Catte,” “Bore’s Head,” “Seint Savyoures,” “Redde Rose,” “Three Cornysshe Chowys” (choughs), and many others.

The great rush of water, through the narrow arches of the old bridge, which proved so dangerous to the navigation of the river, was turned to useful account by the citizens as a motive power for water supply. Early attempts were made in this direction in 1479-80, but the project did not take practical form till 1582, when waterworks were erected under the arches nearest to the City bank of the river, on a plan devised by an ingenious Dutchman named Peter Morris.

London Bridge was the scene of a grand pageant of chivalry in 1390, when two doughty champions representing England and Scotland, engaged in a passage of arms or jousting in the presence of King Richard II. and his courtiers. The Scottish champion was Sir David Lindsay, who was opposed on behalf of England by Sir John Welles. The Scotsman was victorious, and it is characteristic of the condition of society at that period, that a safe-conduct was provided for Sir David Lindsay, both for his journey to London and return to Scotland.

Old London Bridge, after existing considerably over 600 years, was finally demolished in 1832, when the bones of its builder, Peter of Colechurch, were found beneath the masonry in the foundation of the chapel. Before its removal, the obstruction of its numerous arches and their ponderous sterlings frequently caused the river to become ice-bound in winter. In times of more than usual severity, the frost lasted for several weeks, and fairs with amusements of all kinds were held upon the ice. The earliest of these frosts on record is that in the year 1092, and they continued at frequent intervals till so recent a period as 1814. Work being largely brought to a stop at these times, all the Londoners disported themselves on the ice, and several prints of the scenes, and chap-books and broadsides printed upon the ice, have come down to us, but are very scarce.

The swans which are met with in the upper reaches of the Thames, belong to the Crown and two of the City Companies, namely the Vintners and the Dyers. These Companies have by immemorial usage kept a “game of swans,” as it is called, on the Thames, a right which is strictly confined to the Crown and those to whom the Crown may grant the privilege. Once a year an expedition was made by the swan-herds of the Companies to mark the young birds with each Company’s distinguishing nicks; this was made the occasion of a festive gathering of the members of the Company, and was known as “Swan-upping.” The importance which attached to this privilege in former days is seen in the nomenclature of the district in Lower Thames Street, closely adjoining London Bridge, where Old Swan Pier, Swan Lane, &c., remain to this day. At one time the Bridge House appears to have possessed the privilege of keeping a “game of swans,” but this has long since lapsed, probably through non-usage.

From very early times down to the middle of the eighteenth century, the London Bridge of Peter of Colechurch, and its little-known predecessors, formed the only thoroughfare across the Thames within the limits of the Metropolis. Quite naturally therefore, the Borough of Southwark, situated at the southern approach to the bridge, early became a place of importance. For many centuries it consisted almost solely of the main thoroughfare leading to the foot of the bridge. This well-frequented route was under strict order and government, whilst the localities behind the highway on either side, and skirting the river’s banks, were the resort and hiding-place of lawless persons and offenders of every description. To provide for the large number of travellers passing to and from London and the southern counties, Southwark’s main street was occupied almost exclusively by inn-keepers.

Early in the fourteenth century the citizens of London petitioned the King for jurisdiction over Southwark, which was a harbour for felons, thieves, and other malefactors. They succeeded in 1327 in obtaining from Edward III. a charter by which the King sold the vill or town of Southwark to the citizens of London, retaining for himself the Lordship of the Manor and the appointment of the bailiff. Some few years later the inhabitants regained their former privileges, and kept possession of them till the reign of Edward VI., when the Crown in 1550, by another charter, made a second grant of Southwark to the City of London for a valuable consideration.

Within a month of the grant of this charter, namely on 12th May, 1550, the Court of Aldermen appointed Sir John Ayloffe, Barber-Surgeon, as Alderman of the ward of Bridge Without, by which term the Borough of Southwark was designated for City municipal purposes.

An Act of Common Council was also passed in the following July, providing for the election of an alderman by the inhabitants of the borough. This ordinance was never acted upon, the appointment of Alderman of Bridge Without remaining in the hands of the Court of Aldermen. The constitution of the ward was never completed, no representatives were elected as Common Councilmen, and the office of alderman for this ward consequently became a sinecure. It has long been held by the senior member of the Court of Aldermen, or the next in seniority who is willing to accept it; when a vacancy occurs it is offered to the senior alderman, and on his refusal to the next in seniority, and so on. The alderman who accepts it is called the Father of the City, and thereupon vacates the aldermanship of his own ward, for which a vacancy is duly declared. The curious spectacle is thus seen of a ward presided over by an alderman, but being without a constituency or any local representation.

The Corporation of London, having been Lord of the Manor of Southwark, exercised their rights through the Recorder of London, whom they appointed High Steward of Southwark. In that capacity he held Courts Leet as Steward of the Corporation, charging the leet juries and appointing days for receiving their reports as to nuisances. This slight jurisdiction of the City over the ancient borough has now disappeared, consequent upon the constitution of Southwark into a municipality by itself.

Now, having spoken of the City’s jurisdiction, which, as we have seen, was of a very light description, we must revert shortly to the earlier history of the borough. The year 1347 found the larger part of Southwark still in the possession of the powerful family of the Earls De Warren, whose ancestor, William de Warren, was a great favourite of the Conqueror. This young lord married William’s daughter or stepdaughter, and received as her dowry some 300 manors. Early in the reign of Edward III. the Earl’s Bailiff and the King’s had a common box for the toll collected. The King’s Bailiff had the box, and the Earl’s Bailiff the keys. At each division of the toll the King received two-thirds and the Earl one-third of the amount collected. In course of time the manors became vested in a larger number of owners. This appears from the names of the manors, of which the principal were the “Gildable Manor,” or the Liberty of the Mayor, the Manor of the Maze, the Liberty of my Lord of Barmesey (the Abbot of Bermondsey), the Liberty of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Liberty of Paris Garden, and the Suffolk Manor, which comprised the property of Brandon, duke of Suffolk.

Winchester House, situated west of St. Mary Overy’s Church, was built in 1107 by Bishop Giffard. It has had famous occupants besides the prelates: such were Simon de Montfort and his wife; and James Stuart, king of Scotland, who was married here to the niece of Cardinal Beaufort in 1424. No less interesting was its history in later times, with which we have here, however, no concern.

From the Bridge foot, looking south, extends the great highway called Long Southwark. In this main street was held the market of the Borough, which also occupied the Churchyard of St. Margaret, at the end of the great thoroughfare. Close by, opposite St. George’s Church, were the cage, pillory, stocks, and whipping-post, for the correction of offenders sentenced at the Court of Piepowder at Our Lady Fair. Behind Winchester House was the ducking-stool for sousing scolds in the river.

Southwark Fair, or Our Lady Fair, was held at Michaelmas, under a charter granted by Edward IV. in 1462. It occupied the main thoroughfare of the Borough, and overflowed on either side into the courts and inn-yards, invading even the bridge itself. In 1499, as we learn from the Bridge House Records, 7s. 8d. was “leveid and gaderid of divers artificers stonding and selling their wares and chefres on the said bridge in the tyme of Oure Ladye Faire in Southwerke.”

The Manor of Paris Garden took its name from Robert de Paris, who held the manor in the reign of Richard II. That part of the Liberty of Paris Garden bordering on the Thames was known as Bankside, and was the site of several early theatres. Long before the legitimate drama made its appearance, bull and bear-baiting flourished at Bankside. The bull-ring was the special delight of the Southwark people, and boats by hundreds were always passing to and fro, filled with sightseers from Westminster and the city.

Many of the Southwark inns had signs referring to this sport. Such were “The Chained Bull,” “The Bull and Chain,” and “The Bull and Dog.” At the bridge foot, Southwark, was the famed tavern of “The Bear,” and the token of its proprietor was impressed with a bear passant, with a collar and chain. Of the theatres which took the place of these exhibitions, and were at first contemporaneous with them, the most famous was the Shakespearian playhouse known as the Globe. It was built in 1593 for William Burbage. A licence was granted by James I. permitting Shakespeare and others to act here in 1603. The building was of wood, hexagonal in form, and was used by Shakespeare as a summer theatre. Ben Jonson was also connected with it as a partner, playwright, or actor. The building was destroyed by fire in 1613, but was rebuilt in the following year; its site is now covered by a portion of Barclay and Perkins’s brewery.

The Rose was probably the oldest theatre upon Bankside, excepting the early circuses in Paris Garden already mentioned. These were leased in James the First’s reign by Edward Alleyn, the founder of Dulwich College, and Philip Henslow; the latter also held the Rose Theatre for several years. The Swan was in high repute before 1598, but after 1620 both the Rose and Swan were occasionally used by gladiators and fencers. The Hope, used both for bear-baiting and as a playhouse, was situated near the Rose. In 1614 Ben Jonson’s Bartholomew Fair was first acted here; at a later date the building was used for prize-fighting; and in 1632 again for bear-baiting. In 1648 all theatres were suppressed.

Southwark was famous for its inns. The Hostelers or Inn-holders of the City of London formed themselves into a guild at an early date, and the Company still flourishes, and has a quaint old hall in College Street, Dowgate Hill. A curious petition was presented by its members in 1473; it complained that “the members of the Fraternity, in being called hostellers and not inn-holders, had no title by which to distinguish themselves from their servants,” and prayed that they might be recognised as the “misterie of Innholders.” More than 500 years later we find that the servant still keeps the title of ostler, while the master has to be content with the roundabout expression of hotel-keeper or proprietor.

Aubrey, the antiquary, writing in 1678, says:—“Before the Reformation public inns were rare; travellers were entertained at religious houses if occasion served.” The word “inn,” literally a dwelling or abiding-place, was formerly used in a wide sense. The Inns of Court still retain the name; but the town houses or resting-places of great personages, whose business brought them to London, were often so called. Thus, there were in Southwark the inns of the Bishop of Rochester and of the Abbot of Waverley, south of Winchester House; those of the Abbot of Hyde and the Abbot of Battle, and the hostelry of the Prior of Lewes. The inn of the Cobhams was the Green Dragon in Foul Lane, and was still known in 1562 as Cobham’s Inn. But it is of the hostelry proper that we have now to speak.

Space will admit of little more than an enumeration of the most notable hostelries. The Chequers Inn in Chequer Court, High Street, appears to have taken its name from the arms of the De Warrens. The Boar’s Head, though not as famous as its namesake in Eastcheap, was the scene of a performance of stage-plays in 1602, by the servants of the Earls of Oxford and Worcester. The Tabard, so well known as the starting-place of Chaucer’s Canterbury Pilgrims, was on the east side of the High Street. It was built probably in the fourteenth century, and continued until quite modern times to possess an apartment which was known as the Pilgrims’ room. Other well-known inns were the George and the Falcon.

Among the many places of interest in the High Street were the famous prisons of the Marshalsea and the King’s Bench. The former was so called “as pertaining to the Marshals of England.” The Court of the Marshalsea was held by the Steward and Marshal of the King’s house. Both court and prison can be traced as early as Edward the Third’s reign, and they no doubt existed at a much earlier period. The King’s Bench Prison, familiarly known as “The Bench,” closely adjoined the Marshalsea, from which it was separated by about twenty houses. To this prison, it is said, Henry V. when Prince of Wales, was committed by Judge Gascoigne for striking him when seated on the bench. Among its prisoners have been many notable persons, especially in later times.

Tooley Street, skirting the river eastward from the bridge foot, derived its name from a corruption of St. Olave’s Street. St. Olaf, the Christian King of Norway, came to the assistance of Ethelred II. against the Danes in 1008, and destroyed London Bridge, which was then in their possession. He pulled down the piles of the bridge by means of ropes attached to his ships. This friendly act, together with his reputation as a Christian sovereign, procured him the gratitude of the English nation. No less than four churches in London were dedicated to this saint—those, namely, in Tooley Street, Hart Street, Silver Street, and Old Jewry.

Closely adjoining St. Olave’s Church was the Bridge House, the centre of administration for the bridge and its repairs, and an institution hardly second in importance to any in Southwark. Indeed, the Borough has no other heraldic device than the curious “mark” of the Bridge House, which it has adopted as its heraldic cognisance. The origin of the Bridge House Trust extends back probably to the period of the early wooden bridge which existed before the building of Peter of Colechurch’s stone bridge in 1176. London Bridge, being regarded, and with good reason, as a work of national importance, attracted a long roll of wealthy benefactors. William Rufus and his successors (probably, too, his Norman and Saxon predecessors) made grants of tolls and taxes for its support. Other benefactors included Richard, archbishop of Canterbury (Becket’s successor) in 1174; Cardinal Hugo di Petraleone, papal legate to this country in 1176; Henry Fitzailwin, first Mayor of London; and numerous wealthy citizens and ecclesiastics who, either in their lifetime or by their wills, left valuable property to the Bridge House funds. This was administered in early times by the Bridge Masters or Wardens, two in number, who were appointed by the Mayor, Aldermen, and Commonalty of the City.

This post was one much coveted in early times, and was bestowed upon men of the highest position in the City. The Wardens’ duties were honourable and doubtless profitable, but they entailed great responsibilities. They had in their ward and keeping all the goods of the bridge, whether lands, rents, tenements, or commodities, and possessed large, if not absolute, powers of dealing with the bridge property by sale or otherwise for the profit of the Trust. On the other hand, their responsibility was strictly personal, and unthrifty wardens were removed from office. This was the case in 1351, when the wardens were removed after ten years’ service for showing a deficit of 21l. odd. The unfortunate wardens for the year 1440, Thomas Badby and Richard Lovelas, owed no less than 327l. 9s. 10d., the loss having arisen from many of the houses on the bridge being dilapidated and unlet. The wardens obtained the King’s intercession on their behalf, and the Court of Aldermen compromised the matter by accepting 200 marks in full discharge of the debt.

The wardens kept great state at the Bridge House, which was necessarily an establishment of considerable extent. Behind the Tooley Street frontage the premises extended to the river, where was a wharf for landing stone, timber, and all other necessaries for the repair of the bridge, the houses upon it, and the large property belonging to the estate. Besides the necessary offices, the Bridge House contained state apartments for official meetings, and the sumptuous entertainments already mentioned. In fact, the Bridge House in mediæval times largely resembled and took the place of the Mansion House of modern days. The building itself must have been pleasantly situated; it possessed extensive grounds, which were laid out as a garden with ponds and a fountain. The wardens kept, as we have seen, a “game” of swans, and, moreover, a pack of hounds.

Besides its great service to the citizens of London in establishing their world-wide commerce, the Thames also largely contributed to the health and recreation of the inhabitants of London. Fitzstephen, writing in the twelfth century, thus describes the water sports in his day: “In the Easter holidays they play at a game resembling a naval engagement. A target is firmly fixed to the trunk of a tree, which is fixed in the middle of the river, and in the prow of a boat, driven along by oars and the current, stands a young man, who is to strike the target with his lance. If, in hitting it, he break his lance and keep his position unmoved, he gains his point and attains his desire; but, if his lance be not shivered by the blow, he is tumbled into the river, and his boat passes by, driven along by its own motion. Two boats, however, are placed there, one on each side of the target, and in them a number of young men to take up the striker when he first emerges from the stream, or when—

‘A second time he rises from the wave.’

“On the bridge, and in balconies on the banks of the river, stand the spectators,

‘... well disposed to laugh.’”[3]

Other recreation was afforded by fishing, as the Thames abounded with fish of all kinds, from the noble sturgeon and the salmon to the shoals of smelts and whitebait.

The river presented a gay scene, being the great highway for all classes of society, both for purposes of locomotion and for conveyance of goods. The traffic between the court and city was naturally carried on by wherries from London Bridge or Blackfriars to Westminster. The King and Queen had their royal barges, so had the noblemen whose mansions lined the south side of the Strand, each having stairs for approach from the river. Gower gives a charming picture of his meeting his patron, King Richard II., on the river, when the King summoned him to his barge and asked him to write “some new thinge.” The poet obeyed by presenting the King with his “Confessio Amantis.”

From time to time, gay pageants were seen on the Thames. The Sovereign would proceed in state from the Palace at Greenwich to the Tower, or from the Tower, Baynard’s Castle, or other residence, to the Palace of Westminster, and the City guilds accompanied their sheriffs or mayors on their way to Westminster to take oath of office. The accounts of the Grocers’ Company for the year 1436 mention payments for the hire of barges to attend the sheriffs’ show; but John Stow, the historian of London, describes the water procession as an innovation made by John Norman, mayor in 1450. He writes: “This John Norman was the first mayor that was rowed by water to Westminster to take his oath, for before that time they rode on horseback. He caused a barge to be made at his own charge, and every company had several barges, well decked and trimmed, to pass along with him; for joy whereof, the watermen made a song in his praise, beginning, ‘Row thy boat, Norman.’”

Of the more important buildings which formed conspicuous ornaments of the river’s banks we shall speak when describing the royal palaces.