The Story of London

The Mediæval Town Series

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The Story of LONDON
by Henry B. Wheatley
Illustrated by W. H. Godfrey
K. Kimball, H. Railton etc.

London: J. M. Dent & Co.
Aldine House, 29 and 30 Bedford Street
Covent Garden W.C.

1909

To the Memory

OF A LIFE-LONG FRIEND

DANBY PALMER FRY

(late Legal Adviser to the Local Government Board)

I dedicate this little book as a slight expression of the debt of gratitude I owe to him, and of the great loss I, in common with all his friends, have suffered by his death.

I especially wish to associate his honoured name with this book because he took the greatest interest in its evolution, and I have had the benefit of his acumen and wide knowledge in the consideration of most of the subjects discussed in its pages.

H. B. W.

PREFACE

‘History! What is history but the science which teaches us to see the throbbing life of the present in the throbbing life of the past.’—Jessopp’s Coming of the Friars, p. 178.

THERE can be no doubt that our interest in the dim past is increased the more we are able to read into the dry documents before us the human character of the actors. As long as these actors are only names to us we seem to be walking in a world of shadows, but when we can realise them as beings like ourselves with the same feelings and aspirations, although governed by other conditions of life, all is changed, and we take the keenest interest in attempting to understand circumstances so different from those under which we live.

The history of London is so varied and the materials so vast that it is impossible to compress into a single volume an account of its many aspects.

This book therefore is not intended as a history but as, to some extent, a guide to the manners of the people and to the appearance of the city during the mediæval period.

An attempt is here made to put together some of the ample materials for the domestic history of the city which have been preserved for us.

The City of London possesses an unrivalled collection of contemporary documents respecting its past history, some of which have been made available to us by the late Mr. H. T. Riley, and others are being edited with valuable notes by Dr. Reginald Sharpe.

The Middle Ages may be considered as a somewhat indefinite period, and their chronology cannot be very exactly defined, but for the purposes of this book the portion of the mediæval period dealt with is that which commences with the Norman Conquest and ends with the Battle of Bosworth.

It is impossible to exaggerate the enormous influence of the Norman Conquest. The Saxon period was as thoroughly mediæval as the Norman period, but our full knowledge of history begins with the Conquest because so few historical documents exist before that event. Moreover, the mode of life in Saxon and Norman London was so different that it would only lead to confusion to unite the two in one picture.

In order, however, to show the position of the whole mediæval period in the full history an introductory chapter is given which contains a short notice of some of the events during the Saxon rule, and a chapter at the end is intended to show what remains of the mediæval times were left when Shakespeare lived and Johnson expressed his opinion of the pre-eminent position of London.

It is necessary for the reader to bear in mind that London means the city and its liberties up to the end of the eighteenth century. The enlarged idea of a London in the north and the south, the east and the west, is a creation of the nineteenth century.

The City of London is still the centre and heart of London, and the only portion of the town which has an ancient municipal history.

Other cities have shifted their centres, but London remains as it always was. The Bank, the Royal Exchange and the Mansion House occupy ground which has been the ‘Eye of London’ since Roman times.

There is no greater mistake than to suppose that things were quiescent during the Middle Ages, for these pages at least will show that that was a time of constant change, when great questions were fought out.

The first seven chapters of this book refer to life in the Old Town. Here we see what it was to live in a walled town, what the manners of the citizens were and what was done to protect their health and morals. The following five chapters deal with the government of the city. Some notice is taken of the governors and the officials of the Corporation, the tradesmen and the churchmen.

The subject of each chapter is of enough importance to form a book by itself, and it is therefore hoped that the reader will not look for an exhaustive treatment of these subjects. There is more to be said in each place, but I have been forced to choose out of the materials that which seemed most suitable for my purpose.

During the editing of this volume a vivid picture of the mediæval life has ever been before my mind, and I can only regret that it has been so difficult to transfer that picture to paper. I can only hope that my readers may not see the difference between the conception and the performance so vividly as I do myself.

In the preparation of these pages I have received the kind assistance of more friends than I can mention here, but I wish especially to thank Mr. Hubert Hall, Mr W. H. St. John Hope, Mr. J. E. Matthew, General Milman, C.B., Mr D’Arcy Power, Sir Walter Prideaux, Sir Owen Roberts, Mr. J. Horace Round, Dr Reginald Sharpe and Sir William Soulsby, C.B.

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

The Story of London

CHAPTER I
Introduction: Early History of London to the Norman Conquest

THE question as to the great antiquity of London has formed a field for varied and long-continued disputes. An elaborate picture of a British London, founded by Brut, a descendant of Æneas, as a new Troy, with grand and noble buildings, was painted by Geoffrey of Monmouth. The absurdity of this conception, although it found credence for centuries, was at last seen, and some antiquaries then went to the opposite extreme of denying the very existence of a British London.

The solid foundation of facts proving the condition of the earliest London are the waste, marshy ground, with little hills rising from the plains, and the dense forest on the north—a forest that remained almost up to the walls of the city even in historic times, animal remains, flint instruments, and pile dwellings. All the rest is conjecture. We must call in the aid of geography and geology to understand the laws which governed the formation of London. The position of the town on the River Thames proves the wisdom of those who chose the site, although the swampiness of the land, caused by the daily overflowing of the river before the embankments were thrown up, must have endangered its successful colonisation. When the vast embankment was completed the river receded to its proper bed, and the land which was retrieved was still watered by several streams flowing from the higher ground in the north into the Thames.

Animal remains, very various in character, have been found in different parts of London. Examples of mammoth, elephant, rhinoceros, elk, deer, and many other extinct as well as existing species are represented. Of man, the mass of flint instruments in the ‘Palæolithic floor’ which prove his early existence is enormous.

General Pitt Rivers (then Colonel Lane Fox) in 1867 made the discovery of the remains of pile dwellings near London Wall and in Southwark Street. The piles averaged 6 to 8 inches square, others of a smaller size were 4 inches by 3 inches, and one or two were as much as a foot square. They were found in the peat just above the virgin gravel, and with them were found the refuse of kitchen middens and broken pottery of the Roman period. There is reason to believe that the piles were sunk by the Britons rather than by the Romans, and General Pitt Rivers was of opinion that they are the remains of the British capital of Cassivellaunus, situated in the marches, and, of necessity, built on piles.[1] Dr. Munro, however, who alludes to this discovery in his book on Lake Dwellings, believes that these piles belong to the post-Roman times, and supposes that in the early Saxon period these pile dwellings were used in the low-lying districts of London.[2]

The strongest point of those who disbelieve in a British London is that Julius Cæsar does not mention it, but this negative evidence is far from conclusive.

We learn from Tacitus that in A.D. 61 the Roman city was a place of some importance—the chief residence of merchants and the great mart of trade—therefore we cannot doubt but that to have grown to this condition it must have existed before the Christian era. The Romans appear to have built a fort where the Tower of London now stands, but not originally to have fortified the town. London grew to be a flourishing centre of commerce, though not a place capable of sustaining a siege, so the Roman general, Paullinus Suetonius, would not run the risk of defending it against Boadicea. Afterwards the walls were erected, and Londinium took its proper position in the Roman Empire. It was on the high road from Rome to York, and the starting-point of half the roads in Britain.

Bishop Stubbs wrote: ‘Britain had been occupied by the Romans, but had not become Roman.’ Probably few Romans settled here. The inhabitants consisted of the Governor and the military officers and Romanised Britons. When the Roman legions left this country Londinium must have had a very mixed population of traders. There were no leaders, and a wail went up from the defenceless inhabitants. In the year 446 we hear of ‘The groans of the Britons to Aetius, for the third time Consul,’ which took this form of complaint: ‘The savages drive us to the sea, and the sea casts us back upon the savages; so arise two kinds of death, and we are either drowned or slaughtered.’[3]

In this place, however, we have not to consider the condition either of British or Roman London, for the Middle Ages may be said to commence with the break up of the Roman Empire. Saxon London was a wooden city, surrounded by walls, marking out the same enclosure that existed in the latest Roman city. We have the authority of the Saxon Chronicle for saying that in the year 418 the Romans collected all the treasures that were in Britain, and hid some of them in the earth.

From the date of the departure of the Roman legions to that of the Norman Conquest nearly six centuries and a half had elapsed. Of this long period we find only a few remains, such as some articles discovered in the river, and some entries in that incomparable monument of the past—the Saxon Chronicle. All we really know of Saxondom we learn from the Chronicle, Bede’s Ecclesiastical History, and the old charters. The history of England for the greater portion of this time was local and insular, for the country was no longer a part of a great empire.

Professor Earle tells us that the name London occurs fifty times in the Chronicle, and Londonburh thirteen times, but we do not know whether any distinction between the two names was intended to be indicated.

The Chronicler tells us of the retreat of the Roman legions, and how Hengist and Horsa, invited by Vortigern, King of the Britons, landed in Britain. Then comes the ominous account of the Saxons, who turned against the friends that called upon them for succour and totally defeated the British at Crayford in Kent:—

‘457. This year Hengist and Æsc, his son, fought against the Britons at the place which is called Crecganford, and there slew four thousand men; and the Britons then forsook Kent, and in great terror fled to Lundenbyrg.’

Then for a century and a half there is no further mention of London in the Chronicle. We are not told what became of the fugitives, nor what became of the city; as Lappenberg says: ‘No territory ever passed so obscurely into the hand of an enemy as the north bank of the Thames.’

It is as difficult to suppose what some have supposed—that the city was deserted and remained desolate for years—as to imagine that trade and commerce continued in the city while all around was strife. There may have been some arrangement by which the successful Saxon who did not care to live in the city agreed that those who wished to do so should live there. But all is conjecture in face of this serious blank in our history.

If there had been a battle and destruction of the city we should doubtless have had some account of it in the Chronicle. Gradually the Saxons settled on the hithes or landing places on the river side, and at last overcame their natural repugnance to town life and settled in the city. When London is again mentioned in the Chronicle it appears to have been inhabited by a population of heathens still to be converted. Under the date 604 we are told:—

‘This year Augustine consecrated two bishops; Mellitus and Justus. He sent Mellitus to preach baptism to the East Saxons, whose King was called Sebert, son of Ricole, the sister of Ethelbert, and whom Ethelbert had then appointed King. And Ethelbert gave Mellitus a bishop’s See in Lundenwic, and to Justus he gave Rochester, which is twenty-four miles from Canterbury.’

The Christianity of the Londoners was of an unsatisfactory character, for after the death of Sebert, his sons, who were heathens, stirred up the multitude to drive out their bishop. Mellitus became Archbishop of Canterbury, and London again relapsed into heathenism. In this, the earliest period of Saxon London recorded for us, there appears to be no relic left of the Christianity of the Britons which at one time was well in evidence. Godwin recorded a list of sixteen ecclesiastics, styled by him Archbishops of London, and Le Neve adopted the list in his Fasti Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ, on the authority of Godwin.

The list begins with Theanus during the reign of Lucius, King of the Britons in the latter half of the second century. The second is Eluanus, who was said to have been sent on an embassy to Eleutherius, Pope from A.D. 171 to 185. The twelfth on the list is Restitutus, whose name is found on the list of prelates present at the Council of Arles in the year 314.

Perhaps the answer to the question as to the extinction of British Christianity in London is to be found in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s statement that when the Saxons drove the British fugitives into Wales and Cornwall, Theon, the sixteenth and last on this list of British bishops, fled into Wales with the Archbishop of Caerleon, the Bishop Thadiac of York, and their surviving clergy. The traditional date of this flight is A.D. 586, not many years before the appearance of Mellitus. Geoffrey of Monmouth is not a very trustworthy authority, but there is no reason to doubt his belief in his own story, and it is interesting to note that he specially mentions Theonus. At all events, we know from other sources that there were Bishops of London during the Roman period.

The bold statement that King Lucius founded the Church of St. Peter, Cornhill, can scarcely be said to find any credence among historians of the present day, but a reference to the doings of this ancient King will be found imbedded in the Statute Book of St. Paul’s Cathedral:—‘In the year from the Incarnation of the Lord one hundred and eighty-five, at the request of Lucius, the King of Greater Britain, which is now called England, there were sent from Eleutherius the Pope to the aforesaid King two illustrious doctors, Fagnus and Dumanus, who should incline the heart of the King and of his subject people to the unity of the Christian faith, and should consecrate to the honour of the one true and supreme God the temples which had been dedicated to various and false deities.’[4]

To return from the wild statements of tradition to the facts of sober history, we find that London, after the driving out of Mellitus, remained without a bishop until the year 656, when Cedda, brother of St. Chad of Lichfield, was invited to London by Sigebert who had been converted to Christianity by Finan, Bishop of the Northumbrians. Cedda was consecrated Bishop of the East Saxons by Finan about 656, and held the See till his death on the 26th October 664. The list of bishops from Cedda to William, who is addressed in the Conqueror’s Charter, is a long one, and each of these bishops apparently held a position of great importance in the government of the city.

In the seventh century the city seems to have settled down into a prosperous place and to have been peopled by merchants of many nationalities. We learn that at this time it was the great mart of slaves. It was in the fullest sense a free trading town; neutral to a certain extent between the kingdoms around, although the most powerful of the Kings successively obtained some authority over it, when they conquered their feebler neighbours.[5] As to this there is still more to be said. During the eighth century, when a more settled condition of life became possible, the trade and commerce of London increased in volume and prosperity. A change, however, came about towards the end of the century, when the Scandinavian freebooters, known to us as Danes, began to harry our coasts. The Saxons had become law-abiding, and the fierce Danes treated them in the same way that in former days they had treated the Britons. Freeman divided the Danish invasions into three periods:—

1. 787-855. A period when the object was simply plunder.

2. 902-954. Attempts made at settlement.

3. 980-1016. During this period the history of England was one record of struggle with the power of Denmark till Cnut became undisputed King of England.[6]

We still have much to learn as to the movements of the Danes in this country, and when the old charters are more thoroughly investigated we shall gain a great accession of light. Thus we learn from an Anglo-Saxon charter, printed in De Gray Birch’s Cartularium Saxonicum (Nos. 533, 534), that in the year 872 a great tribute was paid to the Danes which is not mentioned in the Chronicle. London was specially at the mercy of the fierce sailors of the North, and the times when the city was in their hands are almost too numerous for record here.

Even when Alfred concluded with Guthrun in 878 the Treaty of Wedmore, as it is still commonly called,[7] and by which the country was divided between the English and the Danes, London suffered much.

With the reign of Alfred we come to the consideration of a very difficult question in the history of London. It has been claimed for this King that he rebuilt London. Mr Loftie expresses this view in the very strongest terms. He writes:—

‘So important, however, is this settlement, so completely must it be regarded as the ultimate fact in any continuous narrative relating to the history of London, that it would be hardly wrong to commence with some such sentence as this; “London was founded exactly a thousand years ago by King Alfred, who chose for the site of his city a place formerly fortified by the Romans, but desolated successively by the Saxons and the Danes.” ’

There is certainly no evidence for so sweeping a statement. Nothing in the Chronicle can be construed to contain so wide a meaning. The passage upon which this mighty superstructure has been formed is merely this:—

‘886. In the same year King Alfred restored (gesette) London, and all the Angle race turned to him that were not in the bondage of the Danish men, and he then committed the burgh to the keeping of the Alderman Æthered.’

The great difficulty in this passage is the word gesette, which probably means occupied, but may mean much more, as founded or settled. Some authorities have therefore changed the word to besaet, besieged.

Professor Earle proposed the following solution of the problem, which seems highly probable. London was a flourishing, populous and opulent city, the chief emporium of commerce in the island, and the residence of foreign merchants. Properly it had become an Angle city, the chief city of the Anglian nation of Mercia, but the Danes had settled there in great numbers, and they had many captives whom they had taken in the late wars. Thus the Danes preponderated over the free Angles, and the latter were glad to see Alfred come and restore the balance in their favour. It was of the greatest importance for Alfred to secure this city, not only the capital of Mercia, but able to do what Mercia had not done, to bar the passage of pirate ships to the Upper Thames. Accordingly, Alfred in 886 planted the garrison of London, i.e., introduced a military colony of men, and gave them land for their maintenance, in return for which they lived in and about a fortified position under a commanding officer. Professor Earle would not have Lundenburh taken as merely an equivalent to London. Alfred therefore founded not London itself but the burh of London.[8]

Under Athelstan we find the city increasing in importance and general prosperity. There were then eight mints at work, which shows great activity and the need of coin for the purposes of trade. The folkmoot met in the precincts of St. Paul’s at the sound of the bell, which also rang out when the armed levy was required to march under St. Paul’s banner. For some years after the decisive Battle of Brunanburh (937) the Danes ceased to trouble the country. But one may affirm that fire was almost as great an enemy as the Dane. Fabyan, when recording the entire destruction of London by fire in the reign of Ethelred (981), makes this remarkable statement: ‘Ye shall understande that this daye the cytie of London had most housynge and buyldinge from Ludgate toward Westmynstre, and lytell or none wher the chief or hart of the citie is now, except [that] in dyvers places were housyng, but they stod without order.’[9]

The good government of Athelstan and his successors kept the country free from foreign freebooters, but when Ethelred II., called the Unready (or rather the Redeless), came to the throne, the Danes saw their opportunity. In 991 he tried to bribe his enemies to stay away, and was the first English King to institute the Danegelt, which was for so many years a severe tax upon the resources of the country. The bribe was useless, and the enemy had to be bought off again. A Danish fleet threatened London in 992, and in 994 Olaf (or Anlaf) Trygwason (who appears first as harrier of English soil in 988), with Sweyn, the Danish King, laid siege to London, but failed to take it. They then harried, burned and slew all along the sea coasts of Essex, Kent, Sussex and Hampshire. The English paid £10,000 to the Danes in 991, and in 994 they had to produce the still larger sum of £16,000 in order to purchase peace. Olaf then promised never again to visit England, except in peace. Subsequently Ethelred brought disaster upon himself and his country by his treachery. In 1002 he issued secret orders for a massacre of all the Danes found in England, and in this massacre Gunhild, sister of Sweyn, was among the victims. In consequence of Ethelred’s conduct the Danes returned in force to these shores and had to be bought off with a sum of £36,000. They came again and made many unsuccessful assaults upon London, upon which the Chronicler remarks: ‘They often fought against the town of London, but to God be praise that it yet stands sound, and they have ever fared ill.’

In 1010 Ethelred took shelter in London, and in 1013 Sweyn again attacked the city without success, but having conquered a great part of England the Londoners submitted to him, and Ethelred fled to Normandy. After Sweyn’s death, in 1014, Ethelred was invited to return to England, as the country was not willing to receive Sweyn’s son Cnut as its King. When Ethelred returned to England he was accompanied by another Olaf (Anlaf Haroldson) who succeeded by a clever manœuvre in destroying the wooden London Bridge, and taking the city out of the hands of the Danes. The story is told in Snorro Sturleson’s Heimskringla (The Story of Olaf the Holy, the son of Harold): ‘Olaf covered the decks of his ship with a roof of wood and wicker work to protect them from the stones and shot which were ready to be cast at them by the Danes. King Olaf and the host of the North-men rowed right up under the bridge, and lashed cables round the poles that upheld the bridge, and then they fell to their oars and rowed all the ships down stream as hard as they might. The poles dragged along the ground, even until they were loosened under the bridge. But inasmuch as an host under weapons stood thickly arrayed on the bridge, there were on it both many stones and many war-weapons, and the poles having broken from it, the bridge broke down by reason thereof, and many of the folk fell into the river, but all the rest thereof fled from the bridge, some into the city, some into Southwark. And after this they made an onset on Southwark and won it. And when the towns-folk saw that the River Thames was won, so that they might not hinder the ships from faring up into the land, they were afeard, and gave up the town and took King Ethelred in.’[10]

The later life of Olaf was one of adventure. He was driven by Cnut from his kingdom of Norway, and took shelter in Sweden. Here he obtained help, and in the end regained his throne. At the Battle of Sticklestead he was defeated and slain (1030). His body was hastily buried, but was afterwards taken up, and, being found incorrupt, was buried in great state in a shrine at Drontheim. He was canonized, and several English churches are dedicated to him. There are four parishes bearing the name of St. Olave in London, one of the churches is in Tooley Street which also preserves the name of St. Olave in a curiously corrupted form.

After this Ethelred succeeded in driving Cnut out of England back to Denmark. Of this success Freeman enthusiastically wrote: ‘That true-hearted city was once more the bulwark of England, the centre of every patriotic hope, the special object of every hostile attack.’[11]

There was, however, little breathing space, for Cnut returned to England in 1015, and Ethelred’s brilliant son, Edmund Ironside, prepared to meet him. Edmund’s army refused to fight unless Ethelred came with them, and unless they had ‘the support of the citizens of London.’ Before, however, Cnut arrived Ethelred died, England was in the hand of the Dane, and London only remained free. Edmund was elected King by the Witan, united with the inhabitants of the city, and thus the Londoners first asserted the position which they held to for many centuries—of their right to a voice in the election of the King.

Cnut was determined now to succeed, and he at once sailed up the Thames. He was, however, unable to pass the bridge, which had been rebuilt. He therefore dug a trench on the south side of the river, by which means he was enabled to draw some of his ships above the bridge. He also cut another trench entirely round the wall of the city. In spite of his clever scheme, the determined resistance of our stubborn forefathers caused it to fail.[12]

Edmund Ironside was successful in his battles with Cnut till his brother-in-law, Eadric, Alderman of Mercia, turned traitor, and helped the Danish King to vanquish the English army at Assandun (now Assenton in Kent). Edmund was now forced to agree to Cnut’s terms, and it was therefore settled that Edmund should retain his crown, and take all England south of the Thames, together with East Anglia, Essex and London, Cnut taking the rest of the kingdom. On the 30th November 1016 Edmund died, and Cnut became King of the whole of England. His reign was prosperous, and he succeeded in gaining the esteem of his subjects, who appreciated the long-continued peace which he brought them. Dr. Stubbs describes him as one of the ‘conscious creators of England’s greatness.’ He died in November 1035 at the early age of forty.

We may now pass over some troubled times, caused by the worthless successors of Cnut, and come to the period when the West Saxon line was restored in the person of Edward the Confessor, who, being educated at the Norman Court, became more a Norman than an Englishman, and prepared the way for the Conqueror’s success. The Confessor was but an indifferent King, although he holds a more distinguished place in history than many a more heroic figure as the practical founder of Westminster Abbey, where his shrine is still one of its most sacred treasures. When Edward died, the Witan which had attended his funeral elected to succeed him, Harold, the foremost man in England, and the leader who had attempted to check the spread of the far too wide Norman influence.

After conquering his outlawed brother, Tostig, and Harold Hardrada, King of Norway, at Stamford Bridge, he had to hurry back to meet William Duke of Normandy, which he did on a hill on the Sussex Downs, afterwards called Senlac. He closed his life on the field of battle, after a reign of forty weeks and one day. Then the Conqueror had the country at his mercy, but he recognised the importance of London’s position, and moved forward with the greatest caution and tact.

The citizens of London were possibly a divided body, and William, knowing that he had many friends in the city, felt that a waiting game was the best for his cause in the end. His enemies, led by Ansgar the Staller, under whom as sheriff the citizens of London had marched to fight for Harold at Senlac, managed to get their way at first. They elected Edgar Atheling, the grandson of Edmund Ironside, as King, but this action was of little avail.

When William arrived at Southwark the citizens sallied forth to meet him, but they were beaten back, and had to save themselves within the city walls. William retired to Berkhamsted,[13] and is said to have sent a private message to Ansgar asking for his support.[14] In the end the citizens, probably led by William the Bishop, who was a Norman, came over to the Conqueror’s side, and the best men repaired to Berkhamsted. Here they accepted the sovereignty of William, who received their oath of fealty.

Thus ends the Saxon period of our history, and the Norman period in London commences with the Conqueror’s charter to William the Bishop and Gosfrith the Portreeve, supposed to be the elder Geoffrey de Mandeville.

In the foregoing pages the main incidents of the history of Saxon London are recited. These are, I fear, rather disconnected and uninteresting, but it is necessary to set down the facts in chronological order, because from them we can draw certain conclusions as to the condition of London before the Norman Conquest. Unfortunately our authorities for the Saxon period do not tell us much that we want to know, and, in consequence, many of the suggestions made by one authority are disputed by another. Still we can draw certain very definite conclusions, which cannot well be the subjects of contention.

The first fact is the constant onward march of London towards the fulfilment of its great destiny. Trouble surrounded it on all sides, but, in spite of them all, the citizens gained strength in adversity, so that at the Conquest the city was in possession of those special privileges which were cherished for centuries, never given up, but increased when opportunity occurred. Patient waiting was therefore rewarded by success, and London by the endeavours of her men grew in importance and stood before all other cities in her unique position.

The Governor who possessed the confidence of Londoners, although all the rest of the country was against him, needed not to despair, while he who had the support of the rest of the country, but was opposed by London, could not be considered as triumphant.

The so-called Heptarchy was constantly changing the relative positions of its several parts, until Egbert, the King of Wessex, became ‘Rex totius Britanniæ’ (A.D. 827). The seven kingdoms were at some hypothetical period

The walled city of London was a distinct political unit, although it owed a certain allegiance to one of the kingdoms, which was the most powerful for the time being. This allegiance therefore frequently changed, and London retained its identity and individuality all through.

Essex seems seldom to have held an independent position, for when London first appears as connected with the East Saxons the real power was in the hands of the King of Kent. According to Bede, Wini, being expelled from his bishopric of Wessex in 635, took refuge with Wulfhere, King of the Mercians, of whom he purchased the See of London. Hence the Mercian King must then have been the overlord of London. Not many years afterwards the King of Kent again seems to have held some jurisdiction here. From the laws of the Kentish Kings, Lhothhere and Eadric, 673-685, we learn that the Wic-reeve was an officer of the King of Kent, who exercised a jurisdiction over the Kentish men trading with or at London, or who was appointed to watch over their interests.[15]

There is a very interesting question connected with the position of the two counties in which London is situated. It is necessary to remember that London is older than these counties, whose names, viz., Middlesex and Surrey, indicate their relative position to the city and the surrounding country. We have neither record of their settlement nor of the origin of their names. Both must have been peopled from the river. The name Middle Saxons clearly proves that Middlesex must have been settled after the East and West Saxons had given their names to their respective districts.

There has been much discussion as to the etymology of Surrey, more particularly of the second syllable. A once favourite explanation was that Surrey stood for South Kingdom (A.S. rice), but there is no evidence that Surrey ever was a kingdom, and this etymology must surely be put aside.

In Elton’s Origins of English History there is the following note, p. 387: ‘Three Underkings concur in a grant by the King of Surrey.—Cod. Diplom. 987.’ This is a serious misstatement, for the document cited says: ‘Ego Frithuualdus prouinciae Surrianorum subregulus regis Wlfarii Mercianorum ... dono concedo,’ etc.

Frithwald is here described as ‘subregulus’ (under-king), subject to the King of the Mercians; and in the attestation clause it is added: ‘Et isti sunt subreguli qui omnes sub signo suo subscripserunt.’ Their names are Fritheuuold, Osric, Wigherd and Ætheluuold. Each is described as ‘testis’ merely. This does not seem to imply concurrence; but, even if it does, the title ‘subregulus’ does not mean an independent sovereign. In the description of the boundaries of the granted land, which is in Anglo-Saxon, the grantor is certainly described as ‘Fritheuuold King,’ but this cannot mean king in the full sense, and the Anglo-Saxon clause in the charter could not have been intended to contradict the Latin, which designates Frithwald as ‘subregulus’ throughout.

Dr. Stubbs (Constitutional History, vol. i. p. 189), after describing the gradual disappearance of the smaller sovereignties, and pointing out that ‘the heptarchic King was as much stronger than the tribal King as the King of United England was stronger than the heptarchic King,’ wrote: ‘In Wessex, besides the Kings of Sussex, which has a claim to be numbered among the seven great States, were Kings of Surrey also.’ The note to this, however, only refers to Frithewold, ‘subregulus or ealdorman of Surrey,’ and no mention is made of any ruler who was capable of making Surrey into a kingdom.

The form of the name used by Bede, ‘in regione Sudergeona’ (Hist. Eccles., iv. 6), may suggest a derivation quite different from any yet suggested.

Surrey was originally an integral part of Kent, and when it was severed from that county it became apparently an independent district, a sort of republic under its own alderman. In later times it became subject to the neighbouring kingdoms. At the date of this charter it was under Mercia. It was never reckoned as a separate member of the heptarchy.

London fought an uphill fight with Winchester for the position of chief city of Southern England. Under Egbert London grew in importance, but Winchester, the chief town of Wessex, was still the more important place politically. In the trade regulations enacted by Edgar in the tenth century London took precedence of Winchester: ‘Let one measure and one weight pass such as is observed at London and at Winchester.’ In the reign of Edward the Confessor London had become the recognised capital of England.

Some dispute has arisen respecting the position of the lithsmen, who appear at the election in Oxford of Cnut’s successor, and subsequently. Freeman (Norman Conquest, vol. i. p. 538) describes them as ‘seafaring’ men of London, while Gross (The Gild Merchant, vol. i. p. 186) writes: ‘The lithsmen (shipowners) of London, who, with others, raised Harold to the throne, were doubtless such “burg-thegns.” ’

Another important point to be noted is the prominent political position of the bishop. As early as A.D. 900 ‘the bishop and the reeves who belong to London’ are recorded as making in the name of the citizens laws which were confirmed by the King, because they had reference to the whole kingdom. Edward the Confessor greeted William Bishop, Harold Earl, and Esgar Staller. So that William the Conqueror followed precedent when he addressed his charter to Bishop and Portreeve.

Foreigners in early times occupied an important position in London, but there were serious complaints when Edward the Confessor enlarged the numbers of the Normans. The Englishman always had a hatred of the foreigner, and this dislike grew as time went on, and the English tried to obtain the first place and succeeded in the attempt.

Other points, such as government by folkmoots and gilds, which will be discussed in the following chapters, find their origin in the Saxon period. The government of London under the Saxons was of a simple character, approximating to that of the shire, and so it continued until some years after the Conquest. When the Commune was extorted from the Crown a fuller system of government was inaugurated, which will be discussed in a later chapter.

CHAPTER II
The Walled Town and its Streets

IN the mediæval city the proper protection of the municipality and the citizens largely depended upon the condition of the walls and gates. The government of town life was specially congenial to the Norman, and the laws he made for the purpose were stringent; while the Saxon, who never appreciated town life, preferred the county organisation. Thus it will be found that, as the laws of the latter were too lax, those of the former were too rigorous.

Riley, referring to the superfluity of Norman laws, describes them as ‘laws which, while unfortunately they created or protected few real valuable rights, gave birth to many and grievous wrongs.’ He proceeds to amplify this opinion, and gives good reason for the condemnation he felt bound to pronounce: ‘That the favoured and so-called free citizen of London, even—despite the extensive privileges in reference to trade which he enjoyed—was in possession of more than the faintest shadow of liberty, can hardly be allowed, if we only call to mind the substance of the ... enactments and ordinances, arbitrary, illiberal and oppressive: laws, for example, which compelled each citizen, whether he would or no, to be bail and surety for a neighbour’s good behaviour, over whom it was perhaps impossible for him to exercise the slightest control; laws which forbade him to make his market for the day until the purveyors for the King, and the “great lords of the land,” had stripped the stalls of all that was choicest and best; laws which forbade him to pass the city walls for the purpose of meeting his own purchased goods; laws which bound him to deal with certain persons and communities only, or within the precincts only of certain localities; laws which dictated, under severe penalties, what sums and no more he was to pay to his servants and artisans; laws which drove his dog out of the streets, while they permitted “genteel dogs” to roam at large: nay, even more than this, laws which subjected him to domiciliary visits from the city officials on various pleas and pretexts; which compelled him to carry on a trade under heavy penalties, irrespective of the question whether or not it was at his loss; and which occasionally went so far as to lay down rules at what hours he was to walk in the streets, and incidentally, what he was to eat and what to drink.’[16]

We see from this quotation that the position of the inhabitant of a walled town was not a happy one. Still he was more favoured than his neighbour who lived in the country. A few examples will show us what the city life was, and these specific instances are necessary, for so many centuries have passed since Englishmen lived in a walled town that without them it is barely possible for us to conceive what this life of suspicion and fear of danger was really like.

The one thing which we do see distinctly is the gradual emancipation of the Englishman from the wearing thraldom of his position. He went on gradually in his course, always bearing towards the light, and he gained freedom long before the citizens of other countries. In the fifteenth century we find that galling laws here in England were allowed to fall into desuetude in favour of freedom, while the same rules were retained in foreign countries. Some of our countrymen objected to this, and English merchants were irritated to find that while the regulation enjoining every alien merchant during his residence in London to abide in the house of a citizen assigned to him as a host by the magistrates had fallen into abeyance, the restriction was rigidly enforced abroad. The writer of the remarkable Libelle of Englyshe Polycye (1437) alludes to this feeling:—

‘What reason is’t that we should go to host in these countries and in this English coast they should not so, but have more liberty than we ourselves?’[17]

The citizens had to put up with constant surveillance. The gates were closed early in the evening, and at curfew all lights, as well as fires, had to be put out. Night-walkers, male and female, and roysterers generally had a bad time of it, but probably they were very ill-behaved, and in many cases they doubtless deserved the punishment they received. In the year 1100 Henry I. relaxed these stringent regulations, and restored to his subjects the use of lights at night. The streets were first lighted by lanterns in 1415.

London within the walls was a considerable city in the Middle Ages, although it only contained the same area that was walled in during the later Roman period. The relics of this wall, continually renewed with the old materials, are so few, and the old area is so completely lost sight of in the larger London, that it is necessary to point out the line of the walls before dealing further with the habits of the Londoners. It was long supposed that the Ludgate was the chief entrance to the city from the west, but, in spite of its name, there can be little doubt that for some centuries the great western approach was made through Newgate. We will therefore commence our walk round the walls with that gate.

Although there can be no doubt that here was a gate in the Roman period, we have little or no record of its early history. One of its earlier names was Chamberlain’s Gate. The ‘new’ gate was erected in the reign of Henry I., and in a Pipe Roll of 1188 it is mentioned as a prison. In 1414 the prison was in such a loathsome condition that the keeper and sixty-four of the prisoners died of the prison plague. In consequence of this it was decided to rebuild the gate. Richard Whittington was the moving spirit in this rebuilding, and it is supposed that he paid the expenses. In the course of excavations made in 1874-1875 for the improvement of the western end of Newgate Street, the massive foundations of Whittington’s gate were discovered several feet below the present roadway.

The wall passed north through the precincts of Christ Church (Christ’s Hospital), formerly occupied by the Grey Friars (or Franciscans). The town ditch, which was outside the walls, and arched over about the year 1553, ran through the Hospital grounds. The wall then turned round to the north of Newgate Street, and passed into St. Martin’s-le-Grand, where, in 1889, the foundations of several houses on the west side were exposed while the excavations for the latest addition to the General Post-Office were being proceeded with.

The great bell of the Collegiate Church of St. Martin’s tolled the curfew hour when all the gates of the city were to be shut. The great gates were shut at the first stroke of the bell at St. Martin’s and the wickets opened; at the last stroke the wickets were to be closed, and not to be opened afterward that night unless by special precept of the Mayor. The ringing of the curfew of St. Martin’s was to be the signal for the ringing ‘at every parish church, so that they begin together and end together.’[18] In an Ordinance (37 Edward III., 1363) the bell at the Church of our Lady at Bow was substituted for that at St. Martin’s.

Outside the walls were Smithfield, where the tournaments were held, and Giltspur Street, where the knights bought their spears, and armour might be repaired when tournaments were going on.

Within the gate were the Grey Friars, Stinking Lane (now King Edward Street), and the Butchers’ Shambles in Newgate Street.

St. Paul’s had its enclosed churchyard, so that the main thoroughfare for centuries passed round it from Newgate Street to Cheapside. The name of Cheap tells of the general market held there, and the names of several of the streets out of Cheapside tell of the particular merchandise appropriated to them, as Friday Street (Friday’s market for fish), Milk Street and Bread Street. At the west end of Cheapside was the Church of St. Michael le Querne (or at the Corn), which marked the site of the Corn Market. It was destroyed in the Great Fire. At the east end of this church stood the Old Cross, which was taken down in the year 1390, and replaced by the Little Conduit, which is described as standing by Paul’s gate. There is an engraving of this church and the conduit, with the water-pots of the water-carriers dotted about.

The wall passed north along the side of St. Martin’s-le-Grand till it came to Aldersgate, close by the Church of St. Botolph. The exact spot is marked by No. 62 on the east side of the street. Stow’s etymologies of London names are seldom very satisfactory, but he never blundered worse than when he explained Aldgate as old gate and Aldersgate as the older gate; but his explanation has been followed by many successive writers, who do not seem to have seen the impossibility of the suggestion. One of the earliest forms of the name is Aldredesgate, showing pretty conclusively that it was a proper name.

The wall proceeds east to Cripplegate, with an outpost—the Watch-Tower or Barbican. The Rev. W. Denton has explained the name of Cripplegate as due to the covered way between the postern and the Barbican or Burgh-kenning (A.S., crepel, cryfle or crypele, a burrow or passage under ground). The name occurs also in the Domesday of Wiltshire, where we read: ‘To Wansdyke, thence forth by the dyke to Crypelgeat.’[19] If this etymology be accepted, we have here the use of the word gate as a way. In the north this distinction is kept up, and the road is the gate, while what we in the south call the gate is the bar. For instance, at York, Micklegate is the road, and the entrance to the wall is Micklegate bar.

It may be noted that St. Giles was the patron saint of Cripples, but the first church was not built until about 1090 by Alfune, the first Hospitaller of St. Bartholomew’s, so that the dedication may have been owing to a mistaken etymology at that early date. In the churchyard is an interesting piece of the old wall still in position. The course of the wall to the east is marked by the street named London Wall, from Cripplegate to Bishopsgate Street. Here it bore south to Camomile and Wormwood Streets, where stood till 1731 the gate.

The distance between Cripplegate and Bishopsgate is not great, and much of the space outside the walls was occupied by Moorditch. Still, in 1415, Thomas Falconer, then Mayor, opened a postern in the wall, where Moorgate Street now is, for the benefit of the hay and wood carts coming to the markets of London. He must also have made a road across the morass of Moorfields, for that place was not drained until more than a century afterwards. The site of Bishopsgate is marked by two tablets on the houses at the corners of Camomile and Wormwood Streets respectively (Nos. 1 and 64 Bishopsgate Street Without), inscribed with a mitre, and these words, ‘Adjoining to this spot Bishopsgate formerly stood.’[20]

Bishopsgate was named after Erkenwald, Bishop of London (d. 685), son of Offa, King of Mercia, by whom it was erected. At first the maintenance of the gate was considered to devolve upon the Bishop of London, but after an arrangement with the Hanse Merchants it was ruled that the bishop ‘is bound to make the hinges of Bysoppsgate; seeing that from every cart laden with wood he has one stick as it enters the said gate.’ The liability was limited to the hinges, for after some dispute it was (1305) ‘awarded and agreed that Almaines belonging to the House of the Merchants of Almaine shall be free from paying two shillings on going in or out of the gate of Bishopesgate with their goods, seeing that they are charged with the safe keeping and repair of the gate.’ The line of the wall bears southward to Aldgate, and is marked by the street named Houndsditch.

The earliest form of the name Aldgate appears to have been Alegate or Algate, and, therefore, has nothing to do with Old, the d being intrusive. Within the walls was the great house of Christ Church, founded by Queen Maud or Matilda, wife to Henry I., in the year 1108, and afterwards known as the Priory of the Holy Trinity within Aldgate. In 1115 the famous Cnichtengild, possessors of the ward of Portsoken (which was the soke without the port or gate called Aldgate), presented to the priory all their rights, offering upon the altars of the church the several charters of the guild. The King confirmed the gift, and the prior became ex officio an alderman of London. This continued to the dissolution of the religious houses, when the inhabitants of the ward obtained the privilege of electing their own alderman. Stow tells us that he remembered the prior riding forth with the Mayor as one of the aldermen. ‘These priors have sitten and ridden amongst the aldermen of London, in livery like unto them, saving that his habit was in shape of a spiritual person, as I myself have seen in my childhood.’

The old name of Christ Church is retained in St. Katherine Cree or Christ Church, on the north side of Leadenhall Street, which was built in the cemetery of the dissolved priory. This church was taken down in 1628, and the present building erected in 1630.

The wall led south by the line of the street now called the Minories to the Tower, thus dividing Great Tower Hill, which was within the wall, from Little Tower Hill, which was outside. The Abbey of Nuns of the Order of St. Clare, which was situated outside the city walls, gave its name of Minoresses to the street. When William the Conqueror built the Tower he encroached upon the city ground, a proceeding which was not popular with his subjects. Near Tower Hill, that is out of George Street,

Trinity Square, there is a fine fragment of the old London wall.

We must now turn westward and follow the course of the river from the Custom House to the Blackfriars, as this forms the southern boundary of the city.

A little to the west of the Tower gate was Galley Quay, where, according to Stow, ‘the gallies of Italie and other parts were used to unlade and land their merchandises and wares.’ These strangers, inhabitants of Genoa and other parts, lodged, says Stow, in Galley Row, near Mincing Lane. They ‘were commonly called galley-men, as men that came up in the galleys, brought up wines and other merchandises, which they landed in Thames Street, at a place called Galley Key; they had a certain coin of silver amongst themselves which were halfpence of Genoa, and were called galley halfpence; these halfpence were forbidden in the 13th of Henry IV., and again by Parliament in the 4th of Henry V.... Notwithstanding in my youth I have seen them pass current, but with some difficulty, for that the English halfpence were then, though not so broad, somewhat thicker and stronger.’ Next Galley Quay was Bear Quay, appropriated chiefly to the landing and shipment of corn.

The first Custom House of which we have any account was built by John Churchman, Sheriff of London in 1385, and stood on ‘Customer’s Key,’ to the east of the present building, and therefore much nearer Tower Wharf. Another and a larger building was erected in the reign of Elizabeth, and burnt in the Great Fire of 1666. Wren designed the third building, which was completed in 1671 and destroyed by fire in 1718. Ripley’s building, which succeeded this, was destroyed in the same way in 1814. The present is therefore the fifth building devoted to the customs of the country.

Billingsgate must be of great antiquity, but it has not always held its present undisputed position. In early times Queenhithe and Billingsgate were the chief city wharfs for the mooring of fishing vessels and landing their cargoes. The fish were sold in and about Thames Street, special stations being assigned to the several kinds of fish. Queenhithe was at first the more important wharf, but Billingsgate appears to have gradually overtaken it, and eventually to have left it quite in the rear, the troublesome passage of London Bridge leading the shipmasters to prefer the below-bridge wharf. Corn, malt and salt, as well as fish, were landed and sold at both wharfs, and very strict regulations were laid down by the city authorities as to the tolls to be levied on the several articles, and the conditions under which they were to be sold.[21]

In 1282 a message was sent from Edward I to the Serjeants of Billingsgate and Queenhithe commanding them ‘to see that all boats are moored on the city side at night’; and in 1297 the order was repeated, but it was now directed to the warden of the dock at Billingsgate, and the warden of Queenhithe, who were ‘to see that this order is strictly observed.’

Opposite to Billingsgate, on the north side of Lower Thames Street, the foundations of a Roman villa were discovered in 1847 when the present Coal Exchange was built. A spring of clear water which supplied the Roman baths was found running through the ruins at the time of the excavations. This was the spring which supplied the boss, fountain or jet by the corner of an opening, of old called Boss Alley, where a reservoir was erected by Sir Richard Whittington, or his executors, expressly for the use of the inhabitants and market people.

We now come to London Bridge, the great southern approach to London, and the most important strategical position, as when that was fortified the inhabitants were safe from attack on the south. Passing westward from the bridge we come to the Old Swan Stairs, the Steelyard, Coldharbour, Dowgate and the Vintry, and then we come to Queenhithe, said to have been named after Eleanor, widow of Henry II., to whom it belonged. It was previously known as Edred’s hithe. Passing Paul’s Wharf, we come to the vast building known as Baynard’s Castle, built by Humphry, Duke of Gloucester, in 1428. This mansion had an eventful history until it was destroyed in the Great Fire. A previous Baynard’s Castle was situated on the Thames nearer the Fleet River, and was named after Ralph Baynard, one of the Norman knights of William the Conqueror. It afterwards came into the possession of Robert Fitzwalter, chief bannerer or castellan of the city of London. When the Dominicans or Black Friars removed from Holborn to Ludgate they swallowed up in their precincts the Tower of Mountfichet and Castle Baynard, which were the strongholds built at the west end of the city. Edward I. allowed the friars to pull down the city wall and take in all the land to the west as far as the River Fleet. Moreover, the King intimated to the Mayor and citizens his desire that the new wall should be built at the cost of the city. We here pass up to Ludgate, which does not appear to have been a gate of much importance until the beginning of the thirteenth century. The idea that it is named after a mythical King Lud is, of course, exploded now, and there are at present two etymologies to choose from. Dr. Edwin Freshfield supposes the name to be derived from the word lode, a cut or drain into a large stream. The main stream of the Fleet passes from the Thames to the foot of Ludgate Hill, but a short branch went in a north-eastward direction to Ludgate, joining there the town ditch. Mr. Loftie explains Ludgate as a postern, and supposes it to have existed in the Saxon period as a postern gate.

All along the river front of London originally there was a wall, remains of which have been found at various times. Fitz-Stephen, writing in the twelfth century, says: ‘London formerly had walls and towers ... on the south, but that most excellent river the Thames, which abounds with fish, and in which the tide ebbs and flows, runs on that side, and has in a long space of time washed down, undermined and subverted the walls in that part.’[22]

Outside Ludgate the road to the west was not much frequented. Fleet Street and the Strand were not the important thoroughfares during the Middle Ages that Holborn was. The roads were much neglected, and no one traversed them who could travel by boat on the Thames, which was literally the Silent Highway of London.

When the gates of London were closed at eight o’clock at night, and the inhabitants were ruled with an iron hand, it was somewhat a sign of reproach to live outside the walls. This feeling continued for centuries, and the name of ‘suburbs’ was long held in little respect. In spite of this stigma, the main avenues leading to the several gates became inhabited, and in course of time were added to the city of London as liberties. The extent of these liberties was marked by bars—thus outside Ludgate was Temple bar, outside Newgate, Holborn bars, outside Aldersgate, Aldersgate bars, outside Bishopsgate, Bishopsgate bars, and outside Aldgate, Aldgate bars. After this arrangement the liberties were no longer suburbs, and the disreputable neighbourhood was therefore pushed farther out. The suburbs outside Cripplegate were unlike those of any of the other gates. There was no main road straight north, but a village with a church and a Fore Street grew up outside the walls.

There is a great deal of information respecting the protection of the walls and the city gates in the important series of ‘Letter Books’ preserved among the city archives and in Riley’s Memorials. The authorities were allowed by the King to levy a tax called Murage from time to time on goods entering the city to enable them to keep the wall and gates in a state of efficiency. In 1276 Edward I. called upon the citizens to devote a portion of the dues to the rebuilding of the city wall by the house of the Blackfriars, and eight years after the grant of murage was renewed to the Mayor and citizens on condition that they built this wall, so that for some years the city gained no particular advantage from the King’s license. The Hanse Merchants were freed from payment of murage on account of their engagement to keep Bishopsgate in order.

In 1310 a royal writ was issued for the punishment of those who injured the city walls, gates and posterns.[23] Two years before this date special orders were issued as to the guard of the gates. The Wards adjoining each gate had to supply a certain number of men-at-arms. Newgate was supplied with 26 men; Aldgate, Bishopsgate, Ludgate and Bridgegate with 24 each; Cripplegate and Aldersgate with 20 each.

The authorities were often very parsimonious, and we find in Riley this curious entry under the date of 1314: ‘Removal of an elm near Bishopsgate and purchase of a cord for a ward hook with the proceeds of the sale thereof.’

Some of the gates were let as dwelling-houses, Chaucer’s tenancy of Aldgate being a familiar instance; but this practice was found to be very inconvenient and objectionable, and in 1386 an enactment was issued forbidding the grant in future of the city gates or of the dwelling-houses there.[24]

There must have been accommodation at the gates (even when let as dwelling-houses) for the serjeants who performed the duty of opening and closing the gates. One of the orders that these serjeants had to carry into effect was to prevent the admission of lepers into the town. Money was collected at the gates for the repair of the roads, a charge which was in addition to murage. The serjeants had also to see that a fugitive bondman did not enter the city, because if one gained admittance and resided in a chartered town for a year and a day he obtained freedom and was entitled to the franchise. In small towns it was easier to keep out the fugitive, but in a large city like London he could often escape notice, although the authorities might be against him. In Letter Book A we read this notice: ‘Pray that the said fugitives may not be admitted to the freedom of the city’; and Pollock and Maitland write: ‘The townsmen were careful not to obliterate the distinction between bond and free, and did not admit one of servile birth to the citizenship.’[25] There can be little doubt that there was much laxity in keeping the gates at various times, and in cases where there was fear of invasion the King sent special orders to the Mayor to see to the protection of the city.

In spite of the singular freedom of England from invasion the English have constantly been overwhelmed with panic, fearing the worst which never came. In 1335 an alarm was raised of a French invasion. The King at the beginning of August wrote to order all men between sixteen and sixty to be arrayed, and a Council to be immediately held in London. Leaders of the Londoners were appointed who were to defend the city in case the enemy landed. Again in 1370 preparations were made for an expected attack upon the city, and in 1383 false reports were circulated from the war in Flanders, for the circulation of which an impostor was punished.[26] Three years later the citizens were in great terror on account of a widespread report that the French King was about to invade England. There seems to have been something in the report, because Harry Hotspur believed it, and having waited impatiently for the French King to besiege Calais, returned to England to meet him here. Stow, however, was very satirical about the English fears. He wrote: ‘The Londoners, understanding that the French King had got together a great navie, assembled an armie, and set his purpose firmely to come into England, they trembling like leverets, fearefule as mise, seeke starting holes to hide themselves in, even as if the citie were now to bee taken, and they that in times past bragged they would blow all the Frenchmen out of England, hearing now a vaine rumour of the enemies comming, they runne to the walles, breake downe the houses adjoyning, destroy and lay them flat, and doe all things in great feare, not one Frenchman yet having set foote on shipboard, what would they have done, if the battell had been at hand, and the weapons over their head.’[27]

No improvement in the condition of houses in London appears to have taken place until long after the Conquest, and the low huts, closely packed together, which filled the streets during the Saxon period, were continued well into the thirteenth century. These houses were wholly built of wood, and thatched with straw, or reeds.

All mediæval cities were fatally liable to destruction by fire, but London appears to have been specially unfortunate in this respect. In the first year of the reign of Stephen a destructive fire spread from London Bridge to the Church of St. Clement Danes, destroying St. Paul’s in the way. This fire caused some improvements in building, but special regulations were required, and one of the early works undertaken by the newly established ‘Commune’ was the drawing up, in 1189, of the famous Assize of Building, known by the name of the first Mayor as Fitz-Ailwyne’s Assize.

In this document the following statement was made: ‘Many citizens, to avoid such danger, built according to their means, on their ground, a stone house covered and protected by thick tiles against the fury of fire, whereby it often happened that when a fire arose in the city and burnt many edifices, and had reached such a house, not being able to injure it, it there became extinguished, so that many neighbours’ houses were wholly saved from fire by that house.’[28]

Various privileges were conceded to those who built in stone, and these privileges are detailed in the Assize of 1189. No provision, however, was made as to the material to be used in roofing tenements. This Assize, which has been described as the earliest English Building Act, is of the greatest value to us from an historical point of view, and much attention is paid to it in Hudson Turner’s Domestic Architecture, where a translation of the Assize is printed. Turner points out that it is evident from this specimen of early civic legislation that although citizens might, if it so pleased them, construct their houses entirely of stone, yet they were not absolutely required to do more than erect party walls 16 feet in height, the materials of the structure built on such walls being left entirely to individual choice, and there can be no doubt that in the generality of houses it was of wood. This assumption is justified by the fact that, in deeds of a much later period, houses constructed wholly of stone are frequently named as boundaries, without any further or more special description than that such was the substance of which they were built. Turner adds that it is obvious such a description would have been vague and insufficient in a district where houses were generally raised in stone, and he therefore supposes that the Assize of 1189 had no more direct effect than in regulating the method of constructing party walls, and then only in cases where individuals were willing to build in stone.[29]

There can be no doubt that the Assize had but little effect, for in 1212 a still more destructive fire occurred which destroyed part of London Bridge—then a wooden structure—and the Church of St. Mary Overy, Southwark. It raged for ten days, and it is calculated that 1000 persons—men, women and children—lost their lives in the fire.

This fire had a striking effect upon the authorities, for at once they set to work to enact a new ordinance which introduced certain compulsory regulations. This is known as Fitz-Ailwyne’s Second Assize, 1212; and thus the first Mayor, about whom little else is known, is associated with two important Acts, one issued at the beginning and the other near the end of his long mayoralty. Thenceforth everyone who built a house was strictly charged not to cover it with reeds, rushes, stubble or straw, but only with tiles, shingle boards, or lead. In future, in order to stop a fire, houses could be pulled down in case of need with an alderman’s hook and cord. For the speedy removal of burning houses each ward was to provide a strong iron hook, with a wooden handle, two chains and two strong cords, which were to be left in the charge of the bedel of the ward, who was also provided with a good horn, ‘loudly sounding.’ It was also ordered that occupiers of large houses should keep one or two ladders for their own house and for their neighbours in case of a sudden outbreak of fire. Also, they were to keep in summer a barrel or large earthen vessel full of water before the house, for the purpose of quenching fire, unless there was a reservoir of spring water in the curtilage or courtyard.[30]

Ancient lights are not provided for, and chimneys are not mentioned. They were not general in Italian cities in the fourteenth century, but in London they were comparatively common by the year 1300. In the Rotuli Hundredorum, date 1275, a chimney is mentioned as built against a house in St. Mary-at-Hill made of stone, a foot or more in breadth, and projecting into the street.

Most of the houses consisted of little more than a large shop and an upper room or solar. The latter was often merely a wooden loft. When an upper apartment was carried out in stone it was described in deeds as solarium lapideum. In the fourteenth century houses were built of two and three storeys, and in some cases each storey was a distinct freehold. This seems to have caused a large number of disputes. It is an interesting fact that at a certain period there was the possibility of London becoming a city of flats. One cannot but feel that it is strange that flats should be general abroad and in Scotland, while it is only lately that they have become at all popular in England. Some reason for this diversity of custom must exist if we could only find it out. Cellars were entered from the street; and possibly, in those cases where separate floors belonged to different tenants, the upper storeys were entered by stairs on the outside.

Sometimes a householder was allowed to encroach upon the road, and in Riley’s Memorials we find patents of leave for building a hautpas, that is, a room or floor raised on pillars and extending into the street. Such a grant was made to Sir Robert Knolles and his wife Constance in the year 1381. Penthouses are frequently mentioned in the city ordinances, and they were to be at least 9 feet in height, so as to allow of people riding beneath. It was enacted, for the benefit of landlords, that penthouses once fastened by iron nails or wooden pegs to the timber framework of the house should be deemed not removable, but fixtures, part and parcel of the freehold.[31]

Shops were open to the weather, and the need of a better place of protection for certain property was felt, which caused the erection of selds—sheds or warehouses—which were let out in small compartments for the storing of cupboards or chests. These served in their day the purpose fulfilled in ours by Safe Deposit Companies.

Several of these selds are mentioned in the city books; thus there was the Tanner’s Seld, in or near St. Lawrence Lane, and Winchester Seld, near the Woolmarket of Woolchurch, also another in Thames Street. In the Hustings Roll we hear of the ‘Great Seld of Roysia de Coventre in the Mercery,’ known as the Great or Broad Seld. In 1311 we find tenants surrendering to Roysia, wife of Henry de Coventre, space for the standing of a certain chest in the seld called ‘La Broselde,’ in the parish of St. Pancras, in the ward of Cheap.

Windows are mentioned in the Assize, but glass was only used by the most opulent. The windows of the citizens in the reign of Richard I. were mere apertures, open in the day, crossed, perhaps, by iron stanchions, and closed by wooden shutters at night. Glass is mentioned as one of the regular imports into this country in the reign of Henry III., and in the time of Edward III. glaziers (verrers) are mentioned as an established gild.[32]

The buildings were constantly improved as time passed, and there is reason to believe that London was much in advance of continental cities as to comfort and cleanliness, in spite of some unflattering pictures that have come down to us. We have reason to believe that the standard idea of Englishmen as to comfort and decency was always higher than that of his neighbours. This point, however, will be more fully considered in the seventh chapter on Sanitation.

It took some time to establish the principle that an Englishman’s house is his castle, and some of our Kings tried hard to override the rights of the faithful citizens. Mr. Riley makes the following remarks on this point: ‘In the times of our early Kings, when they moved from place to place, it devolved upon the Marshal of the King’s household to find lodgings for the royal retinue and dependants, which was done by sending a billet and seizing arbitrarily the best houses and mansions of the locality, turning out the inhabitants and marking the houses so selected with chalk, which latter duty seems to have belonged to the Serjeant-Chamberlain of the King’s household. The city of London, fortunately for the comfort and independence of its inhabitants, was exempted by numerous charters from having to endure this most abominable annoyance at such times as it pleased the King to become its near neighbour by taking up his residence in the Tower. Still, however, repeated attempts were made to infringe this rule within the precincts of the city.’

Henry III. instituted some specially tyrannical proceedings in the year 1266, which naturally gave great offence. The particulars are related in Stow’s Chronicle: ‘Henry III. came to Westminster, and there gave unto divers of his householde servants about the number of threescore householdes and houses within the city, so that the owners were compelled to agree and redeem their houses, or else to avoyde them. Then he made Custos of the city Sir Othon, Constable of the Tower, who chose Bayliffs to be accountable to him. After this the King tooke pledges of the best men’s sons of the city, the which were put in the Tower of London, and there kept at the costs of their parents.’

To meet such violations of the liberties of the city an enactment was promulgated apparently in the reign of Edward I. to the effect ‘that if any member of the royal household or any retainer of the nobility shall attempt to take possession of a house within the city, either by main force or by delivery [of the Marshal of the royal household]; and if in such attempt he shall be slain by the master of the house, then and in such case the master of the house shall find six of his kinsmen who shall make oath, and himself making oath as the seventh, that it was for this reason that he so slew the intruder, and thereupon he shall go acquitted.’

In spite of this, Edward II. tried to carry out a similar piece of tyranny, but he was thwarted by John de Caustone, one of the sheriffs, who proved himself a stalwart leader of the citizens. Alan de Lek, serjeant-harbourer (provider of lodgings), prosecuted John de Caustone, and said ‘that whereas his lordship the King, with his household, on the Monday next after the Feast of the Translation of Saint Thomas the Martyr, in the nineteenth year of the said King then reigning, came to the Tower of London, there at his good pleasure to abide; and the said Alan, the same day and year, as in virtue of his office bound to do, did assign lodgings unto one Richard de Ayremynne, secretary to his said lordship the King, in the house of the aforesaid John de Caustone, situate at Billyngesgate, in the city of London, and for the better knowing of the livery so made, did set the usual mark of chalk over the doors of the house aforesaid, as the practice is; and did also place men and serjeants, with the horses and harness of the said Richard, within the livery so made as aforesaid.’

The sheriff knowing this to be an illegal exercise of royal privilege, boldly rubbed out the obnoxious marks and turned the King’s men and serjeants out of his house. When he was brought to trial the Mayor and citizens appeared for him and pleaded the rights of the city. Caustone successfully defended himself before the Steward and Marshal of the King’s household sitting in the Tower in judgment upon him, and he came off scot-free.[33]

When we consider the smallness of the houses in the early period of the Middle Ages and the insufficient accommodation for families we see that the greater part of the population must of very necessity have constantly filled the streets, and the Londoners appear, from accounts that have come down to us, to have been rather a turbulent body.

The watch and ward arranged for the protection of the city was efficient enough in quiet times, but when the inhabitants were troublesome it was quite insufficient. The regulations were strict, but the streets were crowded, as more than half of them were used as market-places, and every moment occasions for quarrelling arose, of which the young bloods were only too ready to avail themselves.

Punishments and fines were frequent. Cheats and fraudulent tradesmen were promptly punished, and those who had a sharp tongue soon found that the free use of it was dangerous. The authorities, who had the making of the laws, had no fancy for being maligned. Such entries as these are frequent in Riley’s Memorials: Process against Roger Torold for abusing the Mayor, 1355; Punishment or imprisonment for reviling the Mayor, 1382; Pillory and whetstone for slandering the Mayor, 1385; Pillory for slandering an alderman, 1411; Punishment for insulting certain aldermen; Pillory for insulting the Recorder, 1390. The pillory was freely used for cheats, users of false dice, false chequer boards (1382), swindlers, forgers of title-deeds, bonds, papal bulls, etc., impostors pretending to be dumb, etc. False measures, false materials and unwholesome food were confiscated and publicly burnt. Dishonest tradesmen appear to have been very reckless, and punishment was constantly awarded for the sale of putrid fish, food and meat. Enhancers of the price of wheat were specially obnoxious to the citizens, and some of the cheats connected with bread-making were curious, such as inserting iron in a loaf to increase the weight (1387), and stealing dough by making holes in the baker’s moulding-boards (1327). The seller of unsound wine was punished by being made to drink it (1364). Night-walkers (male and female) were very summarily treated, but they must have been mostly connected with the dangerous classes, for we read of notorious persons with swords and bucklers and frequenters of taverns after curfew, ‘contrary to peace and statutes.’ We may presume that quiet, inoffensive persons, who were known to be law-abiding citizens, were not necessarily hauled up for being in the streets after regulation hours. Mr. Riley, in his valuable Introduction to the Liber Albus, makes special reference to these night-walkers: ‘It being found that the houses of women of ill-fame had become the constant resort of thieves and other desperate characters, it was ordered by royal proclamation, temp. Edward I., that no such women should thenceforth reside within the walls of the city under pain of forty days’ imprisonment. A list, too, was to be taken of all such women by the authorities, and a certain walk assigned to them. The Stews of Southwark are once, and only once, alluded to in this volume, and the result of this enactment was no doubt to drive the unfortunates thither.’ Ordinances of later date appear to have been still more stringent. The Tun, a round-house or prison on Cornhill, was so called from its having been ‘built somewhat in fashion of a tun standing on the one end.’ It was built in 1282 for the special reception of night-walkers.

In spite of stringent regulations the streets were seldom free from rioting of some kind, and the watch were kept fully employed. There is a record of inquests or trials by juries (the jury consisting of no less than four representatives from each of the wards), held in 1281 upon a number of offenders ‘against the King’s peace and the statutes of the city.’ The offences for the most part comprise night-walking after curfew, robbery with violence, frequenting taverns and houses of ill-fame, and gambling.[34]

In 1304 there was an Inquisition as to persons rioting and committing assaults by night,[35] and in 1311 a similar Inquisition and Delivery made in the time of Sir Ricker de Repham, Mayor, as to misdoers and night-walkers.[36]

Women of bad repute were restricted to a certain garb.[37] It was enacted by royal proclamation of Edward I. that none of them should wear minever (spotted ermine) or cendale (a particular kind of thin silk), on her hood or dress, and if she broke the law in this respect the city serjeant was allowed to seize the minever or cendale and retain it as his perquisite. At later periods it was enacted ‘that no common woman shall wear a vesture of peltry or wool,’ and again, that she shall not wear ‘a hood that is furred, except with lambs’ wool or rabbit skin.’ From the Letter Books we learn that, in the middle of the fourteenth century, most of these women were Flemings by birth.[38]

The prisons mentioned in the Liber Albus are Newgate and Ludgate, the Tun and the Compters. They could none of them have been pleasant places, but it is probable that they were not so intolerable as they afterwards became. It is impossible that they could have been in a worse condition than the grossly mismanaged prisons of the eighteenth century.

It is not easy to understand what was the level of morality in the mediæval cities and towns. In truth, we can only draw inferences from the facts, and as most of the documents that have come down to us relate to those who have broken the laws, we are too apt to take a low view of the morality of the mass. Laws are not made for the law-abiding, except for their protection, and we have reason to know that this class is by far the most numerous.

Comfort, as we understand it, could not have existed in the Middle Ages, but the life seems to have been fairly agreeable to those who lived it, and it is only fair to give credence to such witnesses as Fitz-Stephen, who knew ‘the noble city of London’ well, and could only write of it in terms of hearty praise. He commences with these words, and then proceeds to substantiate the several points mentioned: ‘Amongst the noble and celebrated cities of the world, that of London, the capital of the kingdom of England, is one of the most renowned, possessing, above all others, abundant wealth, extensive commerce, great grandeur and magnificence. It is happy in the salubrity of its climate, in the profession of the Christian religion, in the strength of its fortresses, the nature of its situation, the honour of its citizens, and the chastity of its matrons; in its sports, too, it is most pleasant, and in the production of illustrious men most fortunate.’

The people must have been closely packed in some parts of London, but gardens and open spaces within the walls were not uncommon. The statistics of the Middle Ages are not to be relied upon, as they largely consisted of the wildest guesses. Kings and Parliaments were continually deceived as to the produce of a tax, owing to the impossibility of knowing the number of the people upon whom it was to be levied.

During the latter part of the Saxon period the numbers of the population of the country began to decay; this decay, however, was arrested by the Norman Conquest. The population increased during ten peaceful years of Henry III., and increased slowly until the death of Edward II., and then it began to fall off, and it continued to decrease during the period of the Wars of the Roses until the accession of the Tudors.

A calculation has been made of the population of England and Wales in the last years of the reign of Edward III. (1372), which fixed the number at two and a half millions. Macpherson adopted this as a correct guess, but it probably errs more on the side of excess than of deficiency. Of this population it has been estimated that those employed in agriculture were in proportion to townspeople as eleven to one, but, according to another estimate, it was as fifteen to one.

It is not easy to arrive at a satisfactory calculation of the approximate population of London at different periods. At the end of the twelfth century Peter of Blois, Archdeacon of London, in a letter to Pope Innocent III., calculates the population at 40,000, and this is a quite probable calculation, although Francis Drake maintains that London was less populous than York about the time of the Conquest. York, however, could not then have had anything like 10,000 inhabitants. Fitz-Stephen greatly exaggerated the population of London. He wrote: ‘The city is ennobled by her men, graced by her arms, and peopled by a multitude of inhabitants, so that in the wars under King Stephen there went out to a muster of armed horsemen, esteemed fit for war, twenty thousand, and of infantry sixty thousand.’ Hallam agrees generally with Peter of Blois’ calculation, for he supposes London to have had a population in John’s reign of at least 30,000 or 40,000.

In 1377 the population, reckoned by the poll tax, was 44,770; the number taxed (consisting of males and females above fourteen years of age) being 23,314. We see from these numbers how greatly the population of London was in excess of the other great towns. From the same source we find the population of the towns next in size were:—

Londoners were fortunate in not having suffered from any severe attack upon their fortifications, and therefore we are unable to tell how London would have stood a prolonged siege. We know, however, that at some periods it was very insecure. The most portentous event in England during the Middle Ages in respect to the changed conditions of life caused by it was the Peasants’ Rising of 1381, the turning-point of which is entirely connected with the history of London. For four days the very existence of the city was in the direst peril. It is styled a rising, but it was really a revolution, and it is only lately that the full history of the movement has been presented to us in Mr. G. M. Trevelyan’s valuable book, England in the Age of Wycliffe (1899).

There are two particular incidents in the history of mediæval London which are of the first importance as illustrations of the life of the inhabitants of a walled city. They stand alone, for no other internal occurrences fraught with such possible evil consequences are to be found in our history; and it is well to compare their likenesses and distinguish their unlikenesses. For this purpose it is not necessary to enter at all fully into the respective causes and effects of Wat Tyler’s and Jack Cade’s Rebellions.

The consideration of these points belongs to the history of the country, but a fairly full account of the proceedings of the few days in which the city was given over to the lawless violence of the followers of Wat Tyler and Jack Cade respectively seems to be necessary here.

In both insurrections the mob had their own way entirely at the beginning of the outbreaks. The insurgents were allowed to enter the city through the sympathy of many of the citizens, and in both cases the insurgents were worsted in the end, one hardly knows how, except we explain the cause as due to the inherent weakness of an undisciplined mob. Both insurrections occurred owing to widespread discontent. In the case of Wat Tyler’s, from social ills of the most serious character; while in that of Jack Cade’s the evils complained of were purely political. Again the movement in the earlier rebellion came from below, while in the later one the prime movers were the squires.

In Wat Tyler’s Rebellion the King and Court were present at all the great events, but in Jack Cade’s the King marched off to Kenilworth and left the city to take care of itself. Other likenesses and unlikenesses will be evident in the notices of the respective insurrections.

In order to understand the doings in London from Wednesday, June 12th, to Saturday the 15th inst., 1381, it is necessary to take some measure of the movement as a whole. Most of the chroniclers naturally write in strongly condemnatory terms of Wat Tyler’s Rebellion, but Stow in his Chronicle attempts to be just, although he describes John Ball as ‘a wicked priest.’ He had the advantage of consulting a manuscript account of the Rising in 1381, written in Old French apparently by an eye-witness.[39]

The different descriptions are full, but they vary greatly in details, so that, though it is possible to make a complete record of events, we cannot be sure that we are altogether correct. At this distance of time from the occurrences we ought to be able to consider the sequence of events with a judicial mind. Both sides in the duel are to a great extent outside our sympathies. The rebels were exorbitant in their demands and violent in their methods, while the Court, being completely at the mercy of the mob, promised everything demanded, with no intention of carrying out their pledges. They had, however, this excuse, that the only way to save the city and its inhabitants was to get the mob into the open country by any possible means available.

The vast concourse of persons who demanded entrance into the city was composed of a heterogeneous mass of discontented men with different aims to forward and different grievances calling for redress. The poll tax, although it gave great dissatisfaction to the nation, was not the cause of the outbreak; the great object of the majority was to obtain the abolition of serfdom. Had this been the only demand the sympathies of the country would have been entirely with the insurgents, but, in order to increase the number of their followers, the leaders had gathered around them all the disaffected persons they were able to get together, and Wat Tyler, to enhance his importance, formulated a number of revolutionary and socialistic demands.

It is not necessary here to discuss these demands, for their number sufficiently condemns them. We may allow that the masses have a right to demonstrate and urge upon their rulers a change of so fundamental a nature as serfdom, which affected them all more or less, but an evil which the rulers were very remiss in attempting to redress. At the same time no government can exist if mob law is triumphant and if an irresponsible mass of people is allowed to demand changes which require much consideration by a legislative body, as Wat Tyler’s followers did. It is instructive to find that although the demands were first agreed to by the King, and then the promise revoked, the serfs were gradually freed while the other demands were quite overlooked. Serfdom was out of date, and the change could no longer be postponed.

Richard II., a boy of ten years, came to the throne in 1377, and few sovereigns have had to take up a more troubled inheritance. The whole country was distressed, and the agricultural population had been driven to the verge of rebellion. Revolutionary views, supported from the writings of Wyclyf and Langland, had taken root among large masses of the people. Doubtless the reformer and the poet had great influence on the people, and although they were not themselves sowers of sedition, their burning words were quoted with effect by the leaders of the revolutionary movement. John Ball’s democratic preaching caused the insurrection, but he gave way to the more practical Wat Tyler, as the leader of the rebels.

The area of the risings extended over part of the Midlands south of Yorkshire, and the whole of the South. There was a reign of terror on all sides. The manor houses were broken open and sacked by mobs, and it was said that every attorney’s house in the line of march was destroyed. Lawyers were exposed to the special hatred of the rebels, who exhibited an ignorant hatred of legal documents. The University of Cambridge suffered severely from the lawlessness of the mob. The University chest was robbed, and a large number of documents were ruthlessly destroyed. Many of the colleges also suffered.

The mob that marched on London and besieged it were mostly from Kent and Essex, and their march was marked by murder and pillage. The authorities were paralysed, and when the mob arrived at the walls of London no preparations had been made, save the strengthening of the gates, so the King and the Court were cut off from communication with all outside London. It is remarkable that we are able to record the daily proceedings of the mob which took place more than six centuries ago; still we can be fairly certain that the events which dovetail into one another are to a great extent correctly reported. The chief difficulty arises when we consider the speeches of the several actors. Chroniclers like John Stow are very picturesque in their descriptions, and often put words into the mouths of their puppets which are evidently written for the purposes of effect. Even when the words are probably historical there is some doubt as to whether they have not been attributed to the wrong persons.

On Monday, June 10th, Canterbury had been overrun, and on Wednesday, the 12th, the main body of the rebels from Kent were crowded together on Blackheath. John Ball preached to them from the text which has come down to us in the familiar couplet—

‘Whan Adam dalf and Eve span,
Wo was thanne a gentilman,’

and he kept his audience enthralled with his eloquence.

Messengers were sent by the King to demand the cause of the rising, and brought back the answer that the Commons were gathered together for the King’s safety. The King’s mother—Joan, Princess of Wales, and widow of Edward, the Black Prince, who had been on a pilgrimage to the shrines of Kent—was allowed by the rebels to enter the city.

Mr. Trevelyan tells us how a conference was proposed: ‘The rebels invited the King to cross the river and confer with them at Blackheath. He was rowed across in a barge accompanied by his principal nobles. At Rotherhithe, a deputation from the camp on the moor above was waiting on the bank to receive them. At the last moment prudence prevailed, and Richard was persuaded not to trust himself on shore. The rebels, shouting their demands across the water, professed their loyalty to Richard, but required the heads of John of Gaunt, Sudbury, Hales, and several other ministers, some of whom were at that moment in the boat. The royal barge put back to the Tower.’[40]

Stow tells us that the watchword of the peasants was ‘With whom hold you?’ and the answer was ‘With King Richard and the true Commons.’ The Chronicler adds: ‘Who could not that watchward, off went his head.’

Mr. James Tait, the author of the excellent life of Wat Tyler in the Dictionary of National Biography, mentions ‘a Proclamation in Thanet Church, on the 13th June, [which] ran in the names of Wat Tyler and John Rackstraw, but the St. Albans insurgents who reached London on Friday the 14th were divided as to which was the more powerful person in the realm, the King or Tyler, and obtained from the latter a promise to come and shave the beards of the abbot, prior and monks; stipulating for implicit obedience to his orders.’

The men of Essex were outside Aldgate in great numbers, and as the day advanced the leaders became fearful as to their condition. They had no means of breaking into the city, and if they remained long where they were they would inevitably have been starved.

‘Walworth guarded the bridge, and sent to the peasants, bidding them, in the name of the King and the city, come no nearer to London.’[41] If there had been no treachery it would have been easy to keep the rebels outside till they were forced by hunger to desist from their endeavours to enter, for time was on the side of the besieged, but the peasants had friends and well-wishers within, and the city being divided against itself, fell.

Mr. Trevelyan writes: ‘A committee of three aldermen rode out to Blackheath to deliver [Walworth’s] message. Two of them, Adam Carlyll and John Fresh, faithfully performed their mission. But the third alderman, named John Horn, separated himself from his two colleagues, conferred apart with the rebel leaders, and exhorted them to march on London at once for they would be received with acclamation into the city. After this treachery he did not fear to return to the city, and brought some of the peasants with him and lodged them in his house. He even advised Walworth to admit the mob.’[42]

The rioters burnt the Marshalsea prison, situated in the High Street, Southwark, and set the prisoners free. Others gutted Lambeth Palace to show their hatred of the archbishop, but he was not there.

On Thursday morning, 13th June, Horn, the disaffected alderman, rode out to Blackheath to confer with the rebels, and he urged them to come to the bridge, where they would find friends. He had an ally in Walter Sybyle, alderman of Bridge Ward, who in virtue of his office took command on the bridge, and he announced that he would let the rebels in by the bridge gate in spite of all opposition. Then Walworth, the Mayor, finding that he was powerless, gave leave to Wat Tyler’s followers to enter the city on condition that they paid for everything they took, and did no damage.

The Kentish rebels poured into the city over the bridge, and at the same time the men of Essex were let in at Aldgate. The first cry of the mob as they entered the city—their defiant answer to the Mayor’s condition—was ‘To the Savoy! To the Savoy!’ the house of John of Gaunt, outside the city liberties and by the riverside, which was burnt and entirely destroyed. In the accounts of the Savoy for 1393-1394 mention is made of the annual loss of £4, 13s. 4d.—‘the rent of fourteen shops belonging lately to the manor of the Savoy annexed, for each shop by the year, at four terms, 6s. 8d., the accomptant had nothing, because they were burnt at the time of the insurrection, and are not rebuilt.’ In these accounts the Rising of 1381 is referred to as ‘The Rumor.’

Sir Robert Hales, the Treasurer, was a marked man, and his manor house at Highbury was burnt and utterly destroyed. Jack Straw’s Castle, which was built on the site of Highbury Castle, retained the name of the second leader of the revolt almost to our own time. Later in the same day the Priory of the Order of St. John at Jerusalem, at Clerkenwell, of which Hales was prior, was burnt by the men of Essex, who in their march to London had previously attacked the Priory of the Order at Cressing, Essex.

Stow informs us that the Commons passed through the city and did no harm, they took ‘nothing from any man, but bought all things at a just price, and if they found any man with theft they beheaded him.’ This, however, was soon changed; first they were joined by the dangerous classes in the city who were glad of an opportunity of punishing their enemies the Flemings by the riverside and the lawyers of the Temple; then the prisons of Fleet, Newgate and Westminster were broken open, and hordes of rascality were added to those contributed by the Marshalsea. To add to these elements of disorder the men became drunk with wine supplied by the rich citizens, and we hear no more of restraints. Gross outrages against property and life now follow one another rapidly. Much damage was done in Fleet Street and the Temple. The rolls and records of the lawyers were burned or otherwise destroyed. The royal account books suffered in the same way. Stow relates that the insurgents ‘determined to burne all Court-rolles and old muniments, that the memory of antiquities being taken away, their lords should not be able to challenge any right on them from that time forth.’ Not content with destroying the documents, they desired to destroy the producers of documents. Again Stow tells us that ‘they took in hand to behead all men of law, as well apprentises as utter-barristers and old justices, with all the jurers of the country whom they might get into their hands, they spared none whom they thought to be learned, especially if they found any to have pen and ink they pulled off his hood, and all with one voice crying, “Hale him out and cut off his head.” ’

The only place of safety was the Tower, and here the young King watched the flames in several parts of the city, and listened to the turbulent cries of the mob on all sides of him. Just beneath, on the east side near St. Katherine’s Hospital, was an encampment of the rebels who clamoured for the murder of the Chancellor and others who had taken refuge in the Tower. This was an eventful day for all, crowded with actions more than enough to terrify a boy suddenly called upon to act.

The Council were hurriedly called together, and after considering the serious dangers which surrounded them, agreed to a policy of concession. The rebels, however, were invited to meet the King at Mile End on the following day.

On Friday, the 14th June, the King and his Court went to Mile End to hear the demands of Wat Tyler and his followers. We learn from the Stow MS. (referred to above), that when they arrived the Commons came to the King, and all knelt to him, saying, ‘Be welcome, our lord King Richard, if it please you, and we will not have any other King than you; and Wat Tighler, master and leader of them, praying to him (the King), on the part of the Commons, that he would suffer them to take and have all traitors that were against the King and the law.’ The demands are recited as follows in the manuscript:—

‘That no man should be a serf by birth, nor do homage or any manner of suit to any lord.

‘No man should be a serf to any man except by his own will, and by covenant duly indentured.

‘To give fourpence for an acre of land.’

Stow gives the demands in fuller detail:—

‘The first, that all men should be free from servitude and bondage, so as from thenceforth there should be no bondmen.

‘The second, that he should pardon all men of what estate soever, all manner actions and insurrections committed, and all manner treasons, fellonies, transgressions and extortions by any of them done, and to grant them peace.

‘The third, that all men from thenceforth might be enfranchised to buy and sell in every country, city, borough town, fair, market and other place within the realm of England.

‘The fourth, that no acre of land holden in bondage or service should be holden but for fourpence, and if it had been holden for less aforetime, it should not hereafter be enhanced.’

Stow adds: ‘These and many other things they required. Moreover, they told him [the King] he had been evilly governed till that day, but from that time he must be governed otherwise.’

After consultation with his courtiers the King conceded everything asked by Wat Tyler. They agreed that serfage should be abolished, and that all servile dues should be commuted for a rent of fourpence per acre, and a general pardon was pronounced on all. Clerks were set to work to draw up charters of liberation and pardon in proper legal form for every village and manor, as well as for every shire.[43]

While these arrangements were going on, the soldiers, who could have kept the Tower with ease, were ordered or at least permitted, to let in the mob. This appears to have been part of the agreement, and we cannot but brand it as a wicked compact, as it was clearly the duty of the Court to protect its servants.

The unfortunate Leg, the farmer of the poll tax, was murdered, and a learned friar, the friend and adviser of John of Gaunt, was torn in pieces as a substitute for his patron. In the chapel, Archbishop Sudbury and Hales were torn from the altar and hurried to Tower Hill, where their heads were struck off and straightway placed on London Bridge.

John Ball was said to be among the first who entered the Tower, and to have directed the outrages. The mob suffered the Princess of Wales to escape by boat, when she went to the Queen’s Wardrobe, which had been given to Queen Philippa, and was afterwards called the Tower Royal in the Vintry Ward. In some accounts it is said that she went to the Wardrobe in Carter Lane, but this is a mistake. The King, after his return from Mile End, joined his mother at the Queen’s Wardrobe.

On Friday and Saturday, as they received their charters, the bulk of the insurgents left London and returned to their homes, leaving the residue and more dangerous masses behind them.

Mr. Trevelyan relates how the King and his nobles rode out from the Queen’s Wardrobe through Ludgate and Temple Bar, passed along the Strand by the smouldering ruins of the Savoy to Westminster. This was on Saturday the 15th of June. The royal party was met at the doors of the Abbey by a sorrowful procession of monks in penitential garb, bearing the Cross before them. The King dismounted and kissed the Cross. The nobles, the courtiers and men-at-arms entered the church and performed with unusual fervour the acts of piety. The reason why the monks were in this subdued condition was owing to the fact that a violation of sanctuary had just occurred.[44]

The insurgents had marched on Westminster, broken open the Exchequer, destroyed the books and records, and violated the sanctuary. Richard or John Inworth, warden of the Marshalsea, after the destruction of that prison, had fled for refuge to Westminster Abbey. On their arrival the mob found him at the shrine of Edward the Confessor, and having torn him away carried him back to the city, where his head was struck off on the block in Cheapside.

Stow gives a vivid account of the King’s visit to the Abbey: ‘The same day (June 15), after dinner, about two of the clock, the King went from the Wardrobe called the Royal, in London, toward Westminster, attended only by the number of 200 persons, to visit Saint Edward’s shrine, and to see if the Commons had done any mischief there. The abbot and convent of that Abbey, with the chanons and vicars of Saint Stephen’s Chappell, met him in rich copes with procession, and led him by the charnel-house into the Abbey, then to the church, and so to the high altar, where he devoutly prayed and offered. After which he spake with the anchore [anchoret], to whom he confessed himself; then he went to the chapel called Our Lady in the Pewe, where he made his prayers.’ Froissart tells us that the figure of the Virgin in this chapel was renowned for its many virtues, and that the Kings of England had much faith in the miracles performed at this shrine. When Richard left Westminster he ‘made proclamation that all the Commons of the country that were in London should meet him in Smithfield.’[45]

In the Stowe MS. there is a very full and clear record of the subsequent proceedings: The King went to the house of the canons of Saint Bartholomew, ‘and then the Mayor of London, William Walworth, came to the King, who commanded him to go to the Commons to make their chieftain come to him, and when he was called by the Mayor, Wat Tighler of Maidstone by name, he came to the King with great countenance mounted on a small horse, so as to be seen by the Commons, and dismounted, carrying a dagger in his hand, which he had taken from another man; and when he was dismounted he took the King by the hand, half kneeling, and shook his arm sharply and strongly, saying to him: “Brother, be of good comfort,” ... and the King said to the said Wat, “Why will you not go to your country?” and the other replied with a great oath, that he and his companions would not go unless they had their charter such as they wished to have.’[46]

The points are then set forth in fuller particularity than they were in the previous meeting at Mile End. Such demands as were not mentioned previously are as follows:—

‘That there should be no law outside the law of Winchester.

‘That no outlawry should be by any process of law made henceforth.

‘That the goods of Holy Church should not be in the hands of men of religion, nor of the parsons and vicars, nor of others of Holy Church, but the “avantés” should have their sustenance easily, and the remainder of the goods should be divided among the parishioners, and no bishop should be in England except one ... and all the lands and tenements of the possessors should be taken from them and parted among the Commons, saving to them their reasonable sustenance.

‘To this the King replied easily, and said that he [Wat] should have all this that he [the King] could properly grant, saving to him the rights of his crown, commanding him [Wat] to go to his hold without more delay.’

From this point there are differences in the accounts, and it is difficult to be quite certain about the sequence of events which bought about Wat Tyler’s death. Stow accuses the leader of a deep-laid scheme for which there does not appear to be any special authority. He writes: ‘Wat Tyler being a crafty fellow, of excellent wit, but lacking grace, answered that peace be offered, but with conditions to his liking, minding to feed the King with fair words till the next day, that he might in the night have compassed his perverse purpose, for they thought the same night to have spoiled the city, the King first being slain, and the great lords that cleaved to him, to have burnt the city by setting fire in four parts thereof.’[47]

We have now to co-ordinate the different accounts of the end of Wat Tyler. Some of these take no notice of the causes that led to Walworth’s action, but Stow’s description seems in the main to make the whole scene clear, although he does not produce a consecutive narrative, but rather relates incidents out of their proper order.

The great open space of Smithfield, the favourite meeting-place on the north of London, and the chosen site for the tournaments and jousts, was crowded on all sides. Near the gate of St. Bartholomew’s Priory were the King and his Court, and farther to the west were the ranks of the Commons set in order of battle. There had been some conference between the leaders, but no agreement had been come to, and naturally the state of tension was profound.

Wat Tyler threatened the King, and took umbrage at the position of Sir John Newton or Newentone, keeper of Rochester Castle, who bore the King’s sword. He treated with much disrespect the knight, who remarked that he recognised in the rebel leader the greatest thief and robber of his country. This so enraged Wat Tyler that he first ordered his followers to behead Newentone, and then attempted to strike him with his dagger. At this Walworth came forward and requested the King to allow him to arrest Wat, who struck at him, but without effect, as Walworth’s armour protected him. The Mayor then, in self-defence, attacked Wat, and wounded him in the neck, and gave him a blow on the head. John Cavendish (or, as some say, Ralph Standish) then came forward in support of the Mayor and wounded Wat in several places. The chieftain spurred his horse and cried to the Commons to avenge him. After riding some thirty yards he fell off his horse, half dead, and was taken to the Hospital of St. Bartholomew’s, where he died. What purports to be the dagger with which Walworth struck Wat Tyler is in the possession of the Fishmongers’ Company.

The suspense at this crisis must have been intense. The rebels prepared their bows, but the arrows were not let fly, for the King spurring his horse, rode forward across the square to the host, and cried out, ‘Will you shoot your King? I am your captain and leader, follow me.’ This brilliant display of courage by the beautiful boy of fourteen, who had the misfortune to be King, had its effect, and the Commons followed him peaceably into the fields of Clerkenwell.

Walworth raised a body of loyal citizens, and these marched out under the command of Sir Robert Knolles and surrounded the rebels, who surrendered and asked for pardon. The host was divided into companies and sent to their respective homes under proper escort.

Now that the authorities were triumphant, the leaderless rebels fared badly. On July 2nd the charters were revoked. John Ball fled to the Midlands, and, according to Froissart, he was taken prisoner at Coventry in an old ruin. On the 15th of July he was drawn, hanged and quartered, just one month after the death of Wat Tyler. On December 13th the King proclaimed a general pardon.

A contemporary account of the insurrection was drawn up and inserted in the City ‘Letter Book H’ (fol. cxxiii.). A translation of this is printed in Riley’s Memorials (pp. 449-451). It is of great interest, but naturally no attempt at a judicial statement is made. The events are described as ‘among the most wondrous and hitherto unheard-of prodigies that ever happened in the city of London,’ and it is stated that ‘hardly was there a street in the city in which there were not bodies lying of those who had been slain.’ The traitors who let in the mob are described as ‘perfidious Commoners within the city.’ The whole account is written with spirit, and the ending of the fearful days is graphically described: ‘Therefore our Lord the King returned into the city of London with the greatest glory and honour, and the whole of this profane multitude in confusion fled forthwith for concealment in their affright.’ ‘Our Lord the King, beneath his standard in the said field, with his own hands decorated with the order of knighthood the said Mayor [William Walworth], and Sir Nicholas Brembre and Sir John Philipot, who had already been Mayors of the said city, as also Sir Robert Lamb.’

Thus ended the Peasants’ Rising, which, although it ended in total defeat to its promoters, exercised an enormous influence on the course of English history.

The insurrection of Jack Cade was not so important an event as that of Wat Tyler, but it must not by any means be considered merely as an outbreak of the lower classes.

Fabyan, the alderman and sheriff, has left us particulars of the insurrection, and some further details have been discovered by Dr. James Gairdner, C.B., who has given a connected account in the Preface to his authoritative edition of the Paston Letters, and also in the Dictionary of National Biography. It is almost impossible to understand the characters of the men who held responsible positions in the reign of Henry VI. The uncles of the King quarrelled among themselves, and their respective followers were hunted down by their enemies.

William De la Pole, fourth Earl and first Duke of Suffolk, a distinguished leader in the French wars, but a politician in later life, was the chief opponent of Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, the leader of the warlike party. Suffolk was an active agent for peace. Apparently the English people were then very much like what they have been in later time. Peace after a successful war has usually been unpopular, and the unfortunate Suffolk was howled at for having given back the Provinces to France.

‘By thee Anjou and Maine were sold to France;
The false, revolting Normans thorough thee
Disdain to call us lord; and Picardy
Hath slain their governors, surpris’d our forts,
And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home.’[48]

The Londoners were strongly antagonistic to Suffolk, who was generally accused of maladministration and malversation without definite charges. His friends could not protect him against his enemies, and when trying to escape to France he was intercepted in the Straits of Dover, put in a little boat, and murdered. His body was thrown on the beach near Dover. It was afterwards buried by order of the King. His death did not satisfy the discontented, and other courtiers succeeded to his place in the disfavour of the people.

Whole districts of the counties of Kent, Surrey and Sussex rose in arms to the extent of 30,000 men, clamouring for the redress of grievances. The masses received assistance from some of the best families of these counties. The Chronicler Gregory says that the Captain ‘compassed all the gentles to arise with him.’

A man who called himself John Mortimer, and affirmed that he was a cousin of the Duke of York, was chosen to be leader. His real name was believed to be Cade. He was an Irishman, who had had some experience in war, and showed himself a strong leader.

On the 1st of June 1450 a considerable army marched on London and encamped at Blackheath, where they formed a regular encampment.

On hearing of this Henry VI. came from Leicester to London, where he arrived on the 6th inst. He took up his quarters at the Hospital of St. John’s, Clerkenwell, and with him were 20,000 troops. The King sent to know the cause of the rising, and was answered thus: ‘To destroy traitors being about him, with other divers points.’ A message was then sent by the King, and proclamation was made that loyal men should immediately quit the field. Upon the night after all the insurgents were gone, and the insurrection seemed to have come to an end.

On the 11th June the King proceeded to Blackheath, and he found that the rebels had withdrawn in the nighttime. Instead of leaving well alone, it was decided to pursue the insurgents, and a detachment of the royal army, under Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother William, were sent in pursuit. A battle took place on the 18th at Sevenoaks, in which both the Staffords were killed and the rest of the party completely routed. The followers of the King in the royal camp were dismayed, and many of them threatened that if justice was not done on certain traitors who had resisted the King they would go over to the Captain of Kent. One of the chief of these unpopular courtiers was James Fiennes, Lord Saye and Sele, a follower of Suffolk, and to please the disaffected he was sent to the Tower.

The King withdrew to Greenwich and the whole of the army dispersed. He returned to London by water and made preparations for removal to Kenilworth. The Mayor and Commons beseeched him to remain in London, offering to live and die with him and to pay half the cost of his household, but he would not consent. The city authorities did not know what to do, and a party among them opened negotiations with the insurgents. Alderman Cooke passed to and fro under the safe conduct of the Captain.

Stow prints in his Chronicle ‘The safeguard and sign manual of the Captain of Kent sent to Thomas Cocke, draper of London, by the Captain of the great Assembly in Kent.’ He also gives ‘the Complaint of the Commons of Kent,’ and ‘the Requests by the Captain of the great Assembly in Kent.’ These are differently worded from the ‘Proclamation made by Jack Cade,’ which has been printed from a MS. in the handwriting of Stow,[49] but the sentiments and complaints in all the documents are essentially the same. They contain a remarkable expression of the feelings of general unrest among the people, although they are doubtless very unjust to the character of the Duke of Suffolk and his followers.

On the 1st of July the insurgents entered Southwark, and Jack Cade made the White Hart Inn his headquarters. According to Fabyan, while the Commons of Kent settled themselves in Southwark, the rebels of Essex made ‘a field upon the plain of Mile End’ their resting-place. On the 2nd of July a court was held by the Mayor for the purpose of considering the best means of resisting the entry of the rebels into the city. It was found, however, that the majority were in their favour, so that Alderman John Horne was committed to Newgate for opposing the views of the malcontents. In the afternoon, about five o’clock, the insurgents were admitted into the city and passed over London Bridge, Cade cutting the ropes of the drawbridge with his sword. Cade then issued proclamations in the King’s name against robbery and forced requisitions, and rode through the streets, taking the city under his complete control. When he came to the London Stone in Cannon Street he struck it with his sword, and said: ‘Now is Mortimer Lord of this city.’ This was a circumstance of the greatest interest in the history of London, for it shows that some special virtue was supposed, in the popular mind, to be connected with London Stone.

Cade now gave orders to the Mayor, and returned to Southwark for the night.

On Friday, the 3rd of July, he returned to the city, and sent for Lord Saye and ordered him, after a mock trial, to be beheaded at the Standard in Cheapside. Crowmer, an unpopular Sheriff of Kent, and son-in-law to Saye, was beheaded at Mile End. As Jack Cade did not wish to be publicly recognised by those who knew his origin, he caused one Bailey, who was supposed to be an old acquaintance, to be beheaded at Whitechapel.

Attention to the rules of order and honesty at length tired the leader, and Stow relates that ‘he went into the house of Philip Malpas, draper and alderman, and robbed and spoiled his house, taking from thence great substance, and returned unto Southwark. On the next morrow he again entered the city, and dined that day in the parish of Saint Margaret Pattens, at one Ghersti’s house, and when he had dined, like an uncourteous guest he robbed him, as the day before he had Malpas. For which two robberies, although the poor people drew to him and were partners in the spoil, yet the honest and wealthy Commoners cast in their minds the sequel of this matter, and fear lest they should be dealt with in like manner.’

On Sunday, the 5th of July, Cade and his followers remained in Southwark all day, and in the evening the Mayor and citizens, with a force under the command of Matthew Gough, occupied London Bridge to prevent the Kentish men from entering the city. Desperate fighting on the bridge continued all through the night, from nine o’clock till nine on the following morning. ‘Sometime the citizens had the better and sometimes the other, but ever they kept them upon the bridge, so that the citizens never passed much the bulwark at the bridge foot, nor the Kentishmen no farther than the drawbridge. Thus continued the cruel fight to the destruction of much people on both sides.’[50] Matthew Gough, John Sutton, alderman, and Roger Hoysand, citizen, were among the killed.

When the rebels got the worst of the encounter a truce was made. A conference was arranged, and Waynflete, Bishop of Winchester, and some others, met Cade in St. Margaret’s Church, Southwark. The bishop produced two general pardons sent by the Chancellor—Cardinal Kemp, Archbishop of York; one for the Captain himself and the other for his followers. These were eagerly accepted, as the insurgents were disgusted with their leader, and they were only too glad to return to their homes.

It seems to have been generally believed that Cade was entitled to the name of Mortimer, but after this conference the truth got abroad, and his pardon was necessarily invalidated in consequence of this discovery. On the 12th of July, therefore, a proclamation of the King was issued for the apprehension of Cade, and the offer of a reward of one thousand marks to anyone who should take him alive or dead. Cade escaped in disguise towards the woody country round Lewes. He was pursued by Alexander Iden, and captured and mortally wounded by him at Heathfield, Sussex, on the 13th inst. The place is known as Cade Street, and a stone with an inscription stands on the site of the capture. Cade’s body was taken to London; his head was placed on London Bridge, and his four quarters were sent to different parts of Kent. Thus ended this dangerous rebellion.

The whole history of the origin of the rising is most complicated. Not only, as already mentioned, were the gentry of Kent on the side of the rebels, but most of the important persons in Southwark supported them. There were Richard Dartmouth, abbot of Battle; John Danyel, prior of Lewes, and Robert Poynings, uncle of the Countess of Northumberland and husband of Margaret Paston. ‘When the pardon time came, a goodly list of names was recorded, with which it was thought wise to deal leniently.’[51]

The Second Part of King Henry VI., which Shakespeare slightly altered from The First Part of the Contention betwixt the two famous houses of Yorke and Lancaster, is chiefly concerned with Cade’s Rebellion; but it is sad that such a perversion of history should in any way be connected with the honoured name of our greatest poet. The libel against Suffolk,

‘There let his head and lifeless body lie,
Until the queen his mistress bury it,’

is apparently devoid of the slightest foundation. The representation of Cade is also a ridiculous travesty. His proclamation, which has come down to us, will be seen to be a very clear and ingenious piece of composition Moreover, Latin is quoted in it, and therefore the writer is not likely to have considered it a crime to speak Latin.

Cade’s description of Lord Saye: ‘Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar school; and whereas before our forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used; and contrary to the King, his crown and dignity, thou hast built a papermill,’ has no foundation whatever in history. In spite of the anachronism of the allusion to the printing press, Gibbon was deceived by the description, and, in claiming Lord Saye as an ancestor, styled him a martyr to learning.

Dr. Gairdner discovered in Gregory’s Chronicle a very remarkable statement, which, if true, would throw great light upon the origin of the outbreak.

‘Ande aftyr that [the Battle of Sevenoaks], uppon the fyrste day of Juylle, the same Captayne come agayne, as the Kenttysche men sayde, but hyt was anothyr that namyd himselfe the Captayne, and he come to the Blacke Hethe.’[52]

Dr. Gairdner is inclined to take this as something more than a mere rumour, but he waits for some corroboration from another source before entirely accepting it. He adds in a note: ‘The story of Jack Cade, however, is attended with difficulties from any point of view, and it is remarkable that when Cade’s body was brought to London it was taken to the White Hart at Southwark, where he had lodged before his entry into the city, and identified by the woman who kept the house. We hear nothing of its being identified by any one who had seen the leader before the Battle of Sevenoaks.’[53]

CHAPTER III
Round the Town with Chaucer and the Poets of his Time