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Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
harbour criminals; no one was to make “covin, confederacy, or
alliance.”
In 1356 the bad roads just outside the Gates were taken into
consideration, and a toll was ordered; for every cart, one penny, for
every horse, one farthing.
In 1357 the King called the attention of the Mayor to the
disgusting condition of the river banks, and ordered them to be
cleansed. In consequence a Proclamation was made that no one was
to throw refuse into the streets or on the river banks.
In 1367 it was ordered that lay-stalls should not be placed near
the water beside the Tower. A lay-stall was a large shallow
depression, generally a pond, into which ordure and filth of all kinds
were thrown.
In 1371 the King himself ordered that there should be no killing of
cattle, sheep, and pigs at the shambles, but that the abattoirs of the
City should be at Stratford le Bow on one side of the town, and at
Knightsbridge at the other. I am not aware that any record exists to
show obedience to this order. But in the same year the Mayor
established a tax at Smithfield of one penny for a horse, a halfpenny
for an ox, a penny for eight sheep, and a penny for four pigs, the tax
to be paid both by the vendor and the purchaser, and the proceeds
to be devoted to cleansing Smithfield.
 VIEW of the RUINS of Part of the late CHURCH of ST. LEONARD, and
the Steeple of St. Vedast Foster Lane

VIEW of the CRYPT on the site of the late COLLEGE of St. MARTIN le
GRAND,
From Londina Illustrata.

In 1372 another Royal Proclamation was issued against the

defilement of the bank. This kind of proclamation always proved
futile, because no one could enforce it.
 In 1379 another order of the Common Council was made about
keeping the streets clean. This time the Corporation seems to have
recognised the absurdity of prohibiting what they could not prevent.
They no longer forbid the citizens the throwing of “ordure, filth,
rubbish and shavings” into the kennels, but they say that they must
not throw those things into the kennels except in the time of rain so
that they will be washed away, and they give the Officers of the
Wards power to use loam, sand, and gravel carts for the purpose of
carrying off the refuse and cleaning the kennels.
The result of many centuries’ conversion of the streets into sewers
was of course the saturation of the soil with poisonous matter, which
powerfully assisted the spread of plague.
These are the principal regulations as to the cleaning of the
streets during a hundred years, all of the same tenor, thirteen
proclamations and orders—that is to say, one in every eight years—
and no effect produced.
I have made one or two notes from Riley’s Memorials on other
points connected with the government of the City. Thus, in 1288 it
was ordered that the course of Walbrook was to be kept clean. In
1374 a lease was granted of the Moor to a certain person coupled
with the duty of keeping the Walbrook reasonably clean. Along the
Walbrook every house had its latrine built out over the bed of the
stream, and for each, at one time, a rent of 12d. was paid yearly.
The now greatly narrowed bed of the stream was constantly
becoming choked with the accumulation of filth of all kinds thrown
into it: the slender stream was not strong enough as of old, before
the wall was built, to carry things down to its mouth.
There were public latrines along the river bank—sometimes built
out on quays, sometimes on piers, roofed. The Master of the Temple
was bound to keep up one on the “Temple bridge,” i.e. the Temple
pier, to which access was the right of the public. We hear also of a
public latrine without the postern where now Moor Lane begins. It
was condemned as a nuisance, a.d. 1415, and was removed.
Another public latrine was at Bishopsgate just without the gate,
probably built over the ditch. The City gates continued, down to the
time of their removal, to have lay-stalls and heaps of filth and
rubbish lying piled without them. Probably there was a public latrine
outside every gate. That of Bishopsgate was also condemned, and
another constructed just within the walls over the much-enduring
bed of the Walbrook. In other places, the cesspool added its
contamination to whatever part of the soil escaped the
contamination of the street. The first construction of the cesspool
was in the reign of Henry III. We shall find, presently, certain wise
laws as to its isolation.
There were men in every ward appointed to be “sweepers of
litter,” and they were sometimes called “rakers.”
Scavagers were officers who took custom upon the Scavage
(showage) of imported goods. They also discharged various other
duties, one of which was to see that precautions were taken in case
of fire. Later, they kept pavements in repair and looked after streets
and lanes, so that they gradually became what we now call
scavengers, giving the name of an honourable occupation to a
menial office. On this word Professor Skeat sends me the following
remarks:—
“Another London word is scavenger; the solution of which, without
the Liber Albus, would have been hopeless. It arose in a way we
could never have suspected, and could never have anticipated; and
it shows the futility of guessing. To begin with, the old sense was
quite different, and the old form was not scavenger, but scavager.
The man whom we now call a scavenger was formerly called a
raker; Langland tells us that, amongst the company in the tavern of
which I have already spoken, there was ‘a raker of Cheapside,’ i.e.
one who had to rake the filth together and keep the street clean.
The inspection of streets came to be included among the duties of a
scavager, but this was not so at first. Originally, his business was
scavage; and scavage meant the inspection of imported goods,
which had to be submitted or shown to the scavagers, or inspectors.
As to the word scavage itself, it is a Norman coinage meaning ‘show-
age’ or exhibition, coined in an extraordinary fashion by adding the
French suffix -age (as seen in porter-age, or broker-age), to the
Middle-English word schaw-en, which we now pronounce as show.
And the net result is, that, once upon a time, a scavenger was one
who was busied about the ‘inspection’ of imported goods; which is
quite a recondite point of history. And it is clear to me, though the
fact has never been made out before, that—when we come to
consider that Chaucer was controller of the City Customs, that it was
his special duty to inspect the imports of wool, and that wool was
one of the commodities on which there was a duty of twelve-pence
for every ‘cark’ or load—it is clear to me (as I said before) that
Geoffrey Chaucer the poet was, by occupation, neither more nor less
than a scavenger.”
Complaints were made in 1298 that the people took the stones
from the wall and the timber from the gates, so that both wall and
gates were falling into ruin.
In 1302 one Thomas Bat, being haled before the Mayor on a
charge of neglecting to put tiles instead of thatch on his houses,
offered to indemnify the City in case of any fire happening by reason
of his thatch. The offer was accepted on the understanding that the
thatch was to be removed by a certain time. The naïveté of Mr. Bat
in offering, and the City in accepting, an indemnity in case of fire is
truly remarkable. What would Mr. Bat have done, how far would his
personal estate have gone, if a quarter of the City had been burned
down by reason of his thatch?
Some entries are very remarkable. In 1308 a “supervisor” of
barbers was appointed. Why of barbers? In another place it is hinted
that barbers allowed their shops to become places of assignation;
and in another place they were ordered not to ply their trade on
Sundays. Furriers are not to scour their furs in Cheapside. Turners
who made the wooden measures are ordered to make no measures
but those of the gallon, the potell (or half gallon), and the quart, and
not to make any of the false measures called chopins and “gylles.”
But why were the chopin and the gill false measures? White tawyers
and megusers were not to flay horses in the City: were there, then,
no knackers’ yards?
The paving of the City did not become general until the fourteenth
century. Even then, in 1372, we find “the Pavement” before the
Friars Minors in Newgate Street mentioned as if it were a
distinguishing feature of that street. Perhaps the explanation is that
the roadway itself was paved for the convenience of the poultry
market there. Paving was required of every householder before his
own house, but the middle of the street was paved by means of the
tax called Pavage. By means of this tax, every cart that entered the
gates paid a penny. But a cart carrying sand or clay paid 3d. a week,
and a cart carrying corn and flour paid the same: a cart laden with
firewood paid 1/4d., and a cart with charcoal paid 1d. But carts and
horses carrying provisions for private consumption paid nothing.
In 1334 certain foreign merchants were exempted from the toll or
tax of Pavage except before their own hostels. Riley thinks that the
pavement for the Poultry Market in Newgate Street, and other open
spaces used as markets, consisted of “rough layers of stones.” But
the paviors formed a separate craft, and their pay was regulated at
so much a toise (7½ feet) in length. This indicates some skill and
knowledge, which certainly would not be wanted for “rough layers of
stones.”
The dangers of the night were always present in the minds of the
sober citizens. When the streets were without light—which was the
case practically, in spite of regulations and ordinances, till the
eighteenth century—and without a patrol, the way of the robbers
and murderers was easy. The danger varied; sometimes, especially
in time of foreign war, the streets were comparatively quiet;
sometimes, especially when the soldiers returned, they were filled
with violence, brawls, and robberies. A strong Alderman in a Ward
suppressed disorders: indeed, it is most certain that it was easy to
find out the character of every man in the Ward; a weak Alderman
encouraged evil-doers: and it was always easy for a malefactor to
get across the river in a boat and find safety in those parts of
Southwark where the City had no jurisdiction. The worst time ever
known in London for this kind of disorder was certainly towards the
end of the twelfth century, unless, perhaps, it was a hundred years
later, when King Edward suppressed the Mayor for twelve years.
As for the craftsman, on Saturdays work was knocked off at
Vespers, that is, at 4 p.m. The shops stood open on the ground floor
with wide windows, glazed at the top or not at all. The selds, of
which we hear so much, were places for storage and warehousing
first, and shops next. Thus North and South Shields are the north
and south selds. One of the streets, as Broad Street, for example,
had two kennels or gutters, the others only one. Many laws were
passed about pigs, which were allowed to be kept within the house,
one supposes in the garden or back-yard, but not in the streets.
The lawlessness that was continually breaking out in the streets is
abundantly illustrated in the pages of Riley. Thus, there was the
quarrel between the saddlers and the painters in 1327. It began with
“contumelious” words between William de Karleton, saddler, and
William de Stokwell, a painter: their friends arranged for the dispute
between them to be settled by arbitration of six persons on either
side, and a “day of love,” i.e. of reconciliation, was appointed to be
held at St. Paul’s Cathedral. Unfortunately the painter went about
making mischief and got together all the painters, joiners, loriners,
and gilders in the City, so that they agreed to stand by each other,
and in case of dispute or offence to close their selds until the case
was adjusted. This was naturally followed by a fight in the streets, in
which many were killed or wounded. The case was brought before
the Mayor and Aldermen, by whom a Committee of Arbitration,
consisting of six Aldermen, was appointed. The Aldermen heard the
case on both sides, and chose six men of each trade, by whom
articles of agreement were arrived at and a day of love was named.
The water supply of the City was in its early history abundant.
There were wells, springs, and streams everywhere. Through the
wall of the City flowed the Walbrook, fed by one spring at least
within the City. This stream received half-a-dozen affluents before it
reached the wall. Outside there were the springs of Clerkenwell, the
Holy Well, Sadler’s Well, and others falling into the River of Wells or
Fleet River: in the Strand there were small streams flowing down to
the Thames from what is now the site of Covent Garden. And within
the City there were many wells of pure water: in Broad Street, at
Aldgate, at St. Antholin’s Church, at St. Paul’s Churchyard, at the
Grey Friars, at Aldersgate, at many private houses; the number of
these wells can never be discovered, because the Fire of London
choked them, and they were built over and forgotten. When
Furnival’s Inn was destroyed quite recently, old wells were found
below the foundations. There was also the Thames water, which at
certain periods of the ebb tide was tolerably pure, if it was taken
some distance from the bank.
When the Walbrook became an open sewer, and the Fleet River
defiled with every kind of refuse, it was necessary to obtain a supply
of water from outside. In the reign of Henry III. (1236) a conduit of
stone was erected at Marylebone for the reception of water from the
Tyburn. (See p. 24.)
There were nine conduits or bosses set up in different parts of the
City, but all on the western side of Walbrook. Three of these
conduits were in Chepe, one opposite Honey Lane, another where
Chepe becomes the Poultry, and a third, the Little Conduit, at the
west end of Chepe, just east of the present statue of Sir Robert Peel.
Another conduit stood in Snow Hill. It was repaired and restored in
1577 by one Lamb, who connected it with a spring on the site of the
drinking fountain before the Foundling Hospital. The City on the east
of Walbrook was supplied by wells, especially by a well opposite the
future site of the Royal Exchange. The great conduit of Cornhill
called the Standard was not set up until 1581. An earlier conduit,
however, was that at Aldgate, which brought water from Hackney.
The New River water was brought into the New River Head in the
year 1613.
 When there was no well within reach and no “boss,” water was
carried about by men. Those who lived on the banks of the river
used the river water for their workshops and other purposes.
Southwark was supplied partly from a great pond in St. Mary Overies
open to any high tide, partly from springs, and partly from streams.
In the City itself there were many springs, especially in the lanes
ascending from Thames Street. But water had to be fetched.
Therefore, the breweries were all placed on the river bank; and also
as many of the industries requiring water as could find place there.
As every gallon of water had to be paid for or carried by a servant, it
is obvious that personal cleanliness could only be regarded in houses
where money was plentiful or the service sufficient. We must not,
however, conclude that the mediæval citizen went always unwashed;
there were “stews,” or places for hot baths—which became notorious
places of resort; and in great houses and castles the visitor was
always conducted to the bath-room on arrival. The craftsmen, one
supposes, were in the fourteenth century exactly like the craftsmen
of the eighteenth century in this respect, that is to say, they did not
often bathe.
The scarcity of water affected the house even more than the
people in it. Where was the water for the continual scrubbing of
floors and stairs on which the modern housekeeper insists? There
was none. The ground floors were of hard clay: and, as we have
seen, they were covered with rushes, which were not too often
changed: the bedrooms were strewn with flowers in the summer,
and with sweet herbs of all kinds in the winter: but all the rooms, as
one would expect where there was little washing and little
ventilation, were pestered with vermin.
Wilkinson (Londina Illustrata, vol. i.) gives an account of the City
conduits:—
“In addition to the Great and Little Conduits in West-Cheap, the
other public reservoirs of London consisted of the following. The Tun
upon Cornhill, furnished with a cistern in 1401; the Standard in
West-Cheap, supplied with water 1431; the Conduit in
Aldermanbury, and the Standard in Fleet-Street, made and finished
by the executors of Sir William Eastfield in 1471; the Cisterns
erected at the Standard in Fleet-Street, Fleet-Bridge, and without
Cripplegate, in 1478; the Conduit in Grass-Street, made in 1491; the
Conduit at Holborn Cross, erected about 1491, and rebuilt by William
Lambe, in 1577, whence it was called Lambe’s Conduit; the Little
Conduit at the Stocks Market, built about 1500; the Conduit at
Bishopsgate, about 1513; the Conduit at London Wall against
Coleman-Street, about 1528; the Conduit without Aldgate, supplied
with water from Hackney, about 1535; the Conduit in Lothbury and
Coleman-Street, near the Church, about 1546; the Conduit of
Thames water at Dowgate, in 1568.” “Of the fore-mentioned
conduits of fresh water that serve the city,” adds Richard Blome, in
reference to their state after the Great Fire, “the greater part of
them do still continue where first erected; but some, by reason of
the great quantity of ground they took up, standing in the midst of
the City, were a great hindrance, not only to foot-passengers, but to
porters, coaches, and cars; and were therefore thought fit to be
taken down and to be removed to places more convenient and not
of that resort of people; so that the water is still the same. The
Conduits taken away and removed with their cisterns are the Great
Conduit at the east end of Cheapside; the Great Conduit called the
Tun in Cornhill; the Standard in Cheapside; the Little Conduit at the
west end of Cheapside; the Conduit in Fleet Street; the Great
Conduit in Grass-Church Street; the Conduit without Aldgate; the
Conduit at Dowgate.”5 The final disuse of these aqueducts took
place about 1701. The Conduit at the Stocks Market after its re-
erection appears to have been celebrated principally for the fine
statue placed over it by Sir Robert Viner, the whole of which was
removed for the building of the present Mansion House in 1739.
The accounts of the “Masters” of the Great Conduit in Chepe for
the year 1350 (see Riley, Memorials of London, pp. 264, 265) touch
on many points of interest. They show that the conduit was
maintained and kept in repair by a rate levied on the houses of
Chepe and the Poultry, and that this rate varied from 5s. to 6s. 8d.;
that the whole line of the pipes was examined, which examination
led to the repair of the fountain head at Tyburn, also to bringing a
branch pipe to the King’s Mews at Charing Cross, mending the pipe
between the Mews and the Windmill, Haymarket, withdrawing the
fountain-head twice a quarter, and mending the pipe at Fleet Bridge,
etc. The pay of the workmen was 8d. a day with a penny for drink,
called none chenche, i.e. non-quencher, whence our word nuncheon
or luncheon. The conduit as well as that at the other end of Chepe
was provided with “tankards,” i.e. vessels shaped like a cone, narrow
at the top, holding three gallons and provided with a stopper and a
handle by which they could be carried. The men who took the water
from the conduit to the houses were called Cobbs, or Water-leaders.
In the matter of crowding we must not exaggerate. The City was
crowded even in the time of Henry V., but not nearly so crowded as
it became later on. There were still fair gardens in it, extensive
gardens, with fruit trees and lawns and flowers, all over the City,
especially on the northern and eastern sides, where land was of less
value than elsewhere. Every Monastic House had its garden, St.
Paul’s Churchyard was on its south side a great garden, the
Companies’ Halls had their gardens, the churchyards were spots of
greenery, and there were whole streets whose houses looked out
upon broad stretches of open garden ground. I have mentioned the
way in which the great nobles’ and merchants’ houses stood about
in the narrow streets among the tenements and workmen’s houses.
These town houses were in the City until the nobles began to build
palaces along the river for the sake of the open air and the
pleasantness. Many of the town houses had been deserted, sold,
and pulled down before the end of the sixteenth century.
In the main thoroughfares it was at some time or other found
necessary to rank the houses, the stalls, and the selds, in line along
both sides of the street; the earliest representation of Cheapside
shows such a line. But with the bye-streets this was by no means
the case. Their raison d’être was the passage from one main artery
to another. How did the merchandise get itself carried out of Thames
Street and from the Quays? By means of the narrow ways from
Thames Street north. Observe that these were for the most part
straight, because the easiest way to carry a burden up a short hill is
to take it with a run; the porters ran straight up the hill to Eastcheap
and walked thence to London Bridge, Cheapside, the markets of
London, and the high roads, north, south, east, and west. In other
parts of the City the bye-streets were not always, or even generally,
straight. Was it that the lane was formed by the proverbial cows
following each other? Not at all. There was no cow, in other words,
the cow was not consulted in forming the lane. It was for this
reason. The craftsmen gathered together, each according to his own
trade and with his fellows for convenience of production, price, and
common furnaces and appliances; it was necessary that there should
be a lane of communication from the place of work to the place of
sale; the workmen, however, set up their houses, without much
regard to this lane of communication, beside each other (see also p.
251), opposite to each other, at right angles, anyhow, and the lane
wound its way through and among these houses; at first there were
gardens behind the houses, but, when the ground became more
valuable, courts and narrow streets were thrust through these
gardens—Ogilby’s map of 1677 (see London in the Time of the
Stuarts) shows in parts the very process of building through the
gardens. We must again remind ourselves that in the early centuries
there were no attempts to make the streets straight, except for
those which were wanted for the main thoroughfares, and for
convenience of carriage. Even as late as the seventeenth century,
and after the fire, there were streets where the houses projected
right across the roadway. In Mark Lane one house projected twelve
feet. I have in some places thought that indications of the former
projections may still be discovered, but cannot insist upon the theory
in any single instance. Most of them, certainly, were either entirely
removed or greatly reduced, and the houses were set in line after
the Great Fire. Illustrations of the way in which a street wound and
turned among houses, built without regard to line, may be found in
many old villages; especially in Bunyan’s village of Elstow, where
many of the houses are quite irregular, and the road (wider than a
London bye-street) follows the houses rather than the reverse. In
this way, especially, the lanes or narrow streets round the old Palace
of Westminster and beside the river gradually made themselves.
I have already mentioned the houses of nobles, ecclesiastics, and
merchants, which stood among these narrow lanes. Many of these
had to be large enough to accommodate the immense following of
the noble lord to whom they belonged—perhaps five hundred men
or more; yet, since the standard of accommodation was by no
means so high as our own, the number of rooms wanted would not
after all be so very great. If the men-at-arms lay side by side on
straw or rushes, each wrapped in the coarse blanket called hop-
harlot with a log for a pillow, thirty or forty could sleep in a single
room of moderate size, just as in a man-o’ -war the sailors are
allowed fourteen inches in width for a hammock.
Such, then, was the appearance of London in the fifteenth
century; always and everywhere picturesque, whether for the courts
of its stately palaces, or the topheavy gabled houses, or the
carvings, paintings, and gilding of the exterior, or the tumble-down
courts and lanes, or the many old churches, or the magnificence of
the religious houses, or the trade and shipping on the river, or the
people themselves. Of the old City houses there now remain but a
portion of one, namely, Crosby Hall, and the front of another, Sir
Paul Pindar’s house, which is in the South Kensington Museum.
If we consider the ancient names of streets and places in London,
we find that while a great many have been lost or changed out of
recognition, there still remain many which are the same to-day as
they were six hundred years ago and more, I have drawn up a list of
those streets which are mentioned in the books most useful for this
purpose—the Memorials, the Calendar of Wills, the Liber
Custumarum, and the Report of the Commission. (See Appendix IV.)
The names may be divided into classes. Thus, the natural features of
the City, while they were yet dimly marked and still visible, are
indicated by such names as Cornhill (unless that is the name of the
old family of Corenhell), Ludgate Hill, Tower Hill, Lambeth Hill, Bread
Street Hill, Addle Hill. These names remind us of the time when the
low cliff overhanging the river was gradually cut away till it became a
short and steep hill running along the north side of Thames Street.
The name River of Wells given to the Fleet commemorated the
number of springs or wells which bubbled up in and round the place
called Clerkenwell, so named after one of them. Walbrook is only
remembered in the City by the street which covers the stream. Next,
the ancient holders of City property are still remembered by many
surviving names. Among the wards there is Bassieshaw, which takes
its name from the family of Basing. Cornhill, as stated above, may
refer to the hill or it may be the name of the family of Corenhell;
Farringdon Ward retains the name of the Farringdons; Portsoken
Ward marks the estate whose rents were formerly reserved for the
defensive purposes of the City; Baynard’s Castle preserves the name
of the first recorded owner of property in this place; Orgar (St.
Martin’s Orgar), Billing, Gresham, Guthrum, i.e. Gutter Lane, Philpot,
and others, preserve the names of old families.
 ARCH OF BLACKFRIARS PRIORY, REVEALED BY THE DEMOLITION OF A
BUILDING IN IRELAND YARD, MAY 1900

Thirdly, many trades are localised by the names of streets or

places. Thus there are Milk Street, Ironmonger Lane, Wood Street,
Honey Lane, Bread Street, Old Fish Street, Garlick Hithe, Silver
Street, Paternoster Row, Budge Row.
The great houses, which formerly stood along the river between
Blackfriars and Westminster, have given their names to the streets
running north and south of the Strand.
Some of the streets preserve the memory of churches long since
destroyed and not rebuilt, or of Monastic Houses, such as Pancras
Lane, Size Lane (where was the church of St. Osyth), Great St.
Thomas Apostle, Trinity Lane, Botolph Lane (where stood the fourth
church of St. Botolph at the River Gate of the City), Austin Friars,
Black Friars, Crutched Friars, Minories, St. Helen’s, St. Martin le
Grand, St. Mary Axe, Mincing Lane, College Street, Rood Lane,
Laurence Pounteney.
The names of the Gates are preserved in the streets which run
through them: Aldgate, Aldersgate, Bishopsgate, Dowgate, Ludgate,
Moorgate, Newgate. Other names indicate ancient sites which would
otherwise have been forgotten: London Wall, Fore Street, Galley
Wharf, Fleet, Thames, Walbrook, Lombard Street, Old Bailey,
Playhouse Yard, Jewry.
A great many of the names are the ancient Saxon names still
unchanged, while others remain in altered forms. Thus we have the
names of Watling, Portsoken, Cripplegate, Hithe, in Queenhithe and
Garlickhithe, Coleman Street, Chepe, Size Lane, Aldermanbury, Addle
Street, Lambeth Hill.
The old Bars or Boundaries of the City jurisdiction are now all
gone and, with the exception of Temple Bar, are clean forgotten.
Queen Hithe preserves the memory of Queen Eleanor its owner. The
site of Paul’s Cross is carefully laid down; Bucklersbury stands on the
site of the family estate of the Bukerels. Outside the City wall in the
vast wilderness of streets there are a few, as at Westminster,
Southwark, Whitechapel, Clerkenwell, and the part which has
contained the town houses of families of position for two hundred
years, where there are histories and persons commemorated in the
names of streets, but, as a general rule, the names have neither any
significance worthy of note, nor any historical character, and there is
not any reason at all why they should be painted up at the corners
of the streets.
 CHAPTER V
THE BUILDINGS
The Kings of England had many palaces, both within and without
the City. Their principal palace from King Cnut to King Henry VIII.
was the “King’s House” of Westminster. Within the City itself was first
and foremost the Citadel, Castle, Palace, and Prison, called the
Tower of London. Baynard’s Castle was held successively by the
Baynards, who lost it in 1111, by a son of Gilbert, Earl of Clare, and
his heirs until 1213, when the then holder, Robert FitzWalter, being
on the side of the Barons, the King seized and destroyed the place.
Afterwards, however, he permitted the owner to restore it. This was
done imperfectly, for when the Dominicans removed from their
quarters in Holborn to the place now called Blackfriars, they built
their church and part of their house with the stones of Baynard’s
Castle and the Tower of Montfichet.
In 1428 Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, built a house by the
riverside to the east of the old castle, and apparently named it after
the former Baynard’s Castle, just as at the present day we call a
modern structure in Regent’s Park by the old and venerable name of
St. Katherine’s by the Tower.
A smaller Tower stood beside the first Baynard’s Castle, also on or
without the wall, called Montfichet. Both places were intended by
the Normans as strongholds, from which the City could be kept
down, if necessary. On the building of the Dominican House, the
Mayor of London, Gregory Rokesley, gave permission for the use of
some of the stones by the Friars. The best of them had already been
taken for the repair of St. Paul’s.
A third Tower was built at the confluence of the Fleet and the
Thames, by order of the King, upon the portion of wall south of
Ludgate Hill. This tower is described by Stow as having been “large
and magnificent and such as was fit for the reception of a king; and
where Edward I. intended some time at his pleasure to lye.” He
granted to the citizens a three years’ toll on goods brought into the
City for sale, in order that they might build the wall so as to enclose
the Dominicans’ house, and put up this tower at the angle. It stood
until 1502, when John Shaw, Mayor, commanded it to be taken
down.
On the west bank of the Fleet, opposite to this Tower, was
another, afterwards called Bridewell. Stow’s account of its early
history has an air of uncertainty:—
“I read, that in the year 1087, the 20th of William the First, the
City of London, with the Church of S. Paul being burned, Mauritius
then Bishop of London, afterwards began the Foundation of a New
Church, whereunto King William (saith mine Author) gave the choice
Stones of this Castle, standing near to the Bank of the River of
Thames, at the West End of the City. After this Mauritius, Richard his
Successor purchased the Streets above Paul’s Church, compassing
the same with a Wall of Stone, and Gates. King Henry the First gave
to this Richard, so much of the Moat or Wall of the Castle, on the
Thames side to the South, as should be needful to make the said
Wall of the Churchyard, and so much more as should suffice to make
a way without the Wall on the North side, etc.

MATTHEW PARIS DYING

From MS. in British Museum. Reg. 14 C. 7.
 This Tower or Castle being thus destroyed, stood, as it may seem,
in Place where now standeth the House called Bridewell. For
notwithstanding the Destruction of the said Castle or Tower the
House remained large, so that the Kings of this Realm long after
were lodged there, and kept their Courts. For in the Ninth Year of
Henry the Third, the Courts of Law and Justice were kept in the
King’s House, wheresoever he was Lodged, and not elsewhere.
More (as Matthew Paris hath) about the Year 1210, King John, in
the Twelfth Year of his Reign, summoned a Parliament at S. Brides in
London; where he exacted of the Clergy, and Religious Persons, the
sum of One Hundred Thousand Pounds: And besides all this, the
White Monks were compelled to cancel their Privileges, and to pay
40,000l. to the King, etc. This House of S. Brides (of later Time)
being left, and not used by the Kings, fell to Ruin; insomuch that the
very Platform thereof remained (for great part) waste, and, as it
were, but a Lay-stall of Filth and Rubbish, only a fair Well remained
there. A great part whereof, namely on the West, as hath been said,
was given to the Bishop of Salisbury; the other Part toward the East
remained waste, until King Henry the Eighth builded a stately and
beautiful House thereupon, giving it to Name Bridewell, of the Parish
and Well there. This House he purposely builded for the
Entertainment of the Emperor Charles the Fifth; who in the Year
1522 came into this City, as I have showed in my Summary, Annals,
and large Chronicles.” (Stow, vol. i. p. 63.)
The Tower Royal, whose name is still preserved in the City, was
one of the King’s houses; Stephen is said to have lodged there; the
Princess of Wales, mother of Richard II., fled here during Wat Tyler’s
rebellion. The King’s Wardrobe, a name also surviving, was a house
of the King. And in Bucklersbury there was another house, Serne’s
Tower, also called the King’s House. On the south side of London,
besides Greenwich and Eltham, was the Palace of Kennington.
As for the site of the last-named palace, if you walk along the
Kennington Road from Bridge Street, Westminster, you presently
come to a place where four roads meet, Upper Kennington Lane on
the left, and Lower Kennington Lane on the right; the road goes on
to the Horns Tavern and Kennington Park. On the right-hand side
stood the palace. In the year 1636 a plan of the house and grounds
was executed; but by that time the mediæval character of the place
was quite forgotten. It was a square house, probably Elizabethan.
Of this last once magnificent palace not a stone remains and not a
memory or tradition; it is entirely forgotten. The reason of this
strange oblivion is very simple. When it was pulled down, which was
some time before 1667, for then, Camden says, there was not a
stone remaining, there were no houses within half a mile in every
direction. Even a hundred and fifty years later there were no
cottages or houses near the spot. The moat, however, remained,
and a long stone barn.
In this house Harold Harefoot crowned himself. In this house his
half-brother Hardacnut drank himself to death.
Forty years after this event, when Domesday Book was compiled,
the place was in the possession of a London citizen, Theodric by
name and a goldsmith by trade. It was still a royal manor, because
the goldsmith held it of Edward the Confessor. It was then valued at
three pounds a year.
We next hear of Kennington in 1189, when King Richard granted it
on lease, or for life, to Sir Robert Percy with the title of Lord of the
Manor. Henry III. came here on several occasions; here he held his
Lambeth Parliament. He kept his Christmas here in 1231. Great was
the feasting and boundless the hospitality of this Christmas, at which
the King lavished the treasures of the State.
 EMBASSY FROM THE KING OF ENGLAND TO ASK THE HAND OF THE
LADY ISABELLA OF FRANCE IN MARRIAGE
From Froissart’s Chronicles.

Edward I. was here occasionally. During his reign it was the

residence of John, Earl of Surrey, and of his son, John Plantagenet,
Earl of Warren and Surrey. Edward III. made the manor part of the
Duchy of Cornwall. After the death of the Black Prince the princess
lived here with the young Prince Richard. I do not find that Henry IV.
was fond of a house which would certainly be haunted—especially
the room in which he was to sleep—by the sorrowful shade of his
murdered cousin. Nor did Henry V. come here during his short reign.
Henry VI. however, made use of Kennington Palace, so did Henry
VII.; and the last of the Queens, whose name can be connected with
the palace, was Catherine of Arragon.
The name that we especially associate with Kennington Palace is
that of Richard II. When the Black Prince died, in 1376, Richard
remained at Kennington under the care of his mother and the
tutorship of Sir Guiscard d’Angle, “that accomplished knight.”
In the year of his accession, 1377, occurred the great riot of
London, which arose out of Wyclyf’s trial in St. Paul’s and the quarrel
between the Bishop of London and John of Gaunt. The latter, after
the dismissal of Wyclyf, repaired to the house of John de Ypres,
close beside the river, where he was sitting at dinner, when one of
his following ran hastily to warn him that the people were flocking
together with intent to murder him if they could. The Duke therefore
hastily ran down to the nearest stairs, took a boat across the river,
and fled as quickly as possible to Kennington Palace, where he took
shelter with the young Prince Richard and his guardians.
One more reminiscence of Kennington Palace. The last occasion
on which Richard lodged there was when he brought home his little
bride Isabel, the Queen of eight years. They brought her from Dover,
resting on the way at Canterbury and Rochester. At Blackheath they
were met by the Mayor and Aldermen, attired with great
magnificence of costume to do honour to the bride. After reverences
due, they fell into their place and rode on with the procession. When
they arrived at Newington, the King thanked the Mayor and
permitted him to leave the procession and return home. He himself,
with his company, rode by the cross-country lane from Newington to
Kennington Palace. I observe that this proves the existence of a path
or lane where is now Upper Kennington Lane. At this palace the little
Queen rested a night, and next day was carried in another
procession to the Tower. The knights rode before, and the French
ladies came after. It is pretty to read how Isabel, with her long fair
hair falling over her shoulders, and her sweet childish face, sat up
and smiled upon the people, playing and pretending to be queen,
which she had been practising ever since her betrothal. Needless to
say that all hearts were ravished. The good people of London were
ever ready to welcome one princess after another, and to lose their
hearts to them, whether it was Isabel of France, or Katherine her
sister, or Anne Boleyn, or Queen Charlotte, or the fair Princess of
Denmark. So great a press was there that many were actually
squeezed to death at London Bridge, where the houses only left
twelve feet in breadth. Isabel’s queenship proved a pretence; before
she was old enough to be Queen, indeed, her husband was in
confinement; before she understood that he was a captive, he was
murdered, and the splendid extravagant reign was over.
London was, in very truth, a city of Palaces. There were, in
London itself, more palaces than in Venice and Florence and Verona
and Genoa all together.
The Fitz Alans, Earls of Arundel, had their town house in Botolph
Lane, Billingsgate, down to the end of the sixteenth century. The
street is, and always has been, narrow, and, from its proximity to
the fish-market, is, and always has been, unsavoury. The Earls of
Northumberland had town houses successively in Crutched Friars,
Fenchurch Street, and Aldersgate Street. The Earls of Worcester
lived in Worcester Lane, on the river-bank; the Duke of Buckingham
on College Hill—observe how the nobles, like the merchants, built
their houses in the most busy part of the town. The Beaumonts and
the Huntingdons lived beside Paul’s Wharf; the Lords of Berkeley had
a house near Blackfriars; Doctors’ Commons was the town house of
the Blounts, Lords Mountjoy. Close to Paul’s Wharf stood the
mansion once occupied by the widow of Richard, Duke of York,
mother of Edward IV., Clarence, and Richard III. Edward the Black
Prince lived on Fish Street Hill, and the house was afterwards turned
into an inn. The De la Poles had a house in Lombard Street. The De
Veres, Earls of Oxford, lived first in St. Mary Axe, and afterwards in
Oxford Court, St. Swithin’s Lane; Cromwell, Earl of Essex, had a
house in Throgmorton Street. The Barons FitzWalter had a house
where now stands Grocers’ Hall, Poultry. In Aldersgate Street were
houses of the Earl of Westmoreland, the Earl of Northumberland,
and the Earl of Thanet, Lord Percy, and the Marquis of Dorchester.
Suffolk Lane marks the site of the “Manor of the Rose,” belonging
successively to the Suffolks and the Buckinghams; Lovell’s Court,
Paternoster Row, marks the site of the Lovells’ mansion; between
Amen Corner and Ludgate Street stood Abergavenny House, where
lived in the reign of Edward II. the Earl of Richmond and Duke of
Brittany, grandson of Henry III. Afterwards it became the house of
John Hastings, Earl of Pembroke, who married Lady Margaret,
daughter of Edward III. It passed to the Nevilles, Earls of
Abergavenny, and from them to the Stationers’ Company. Warwick
Lane runs over Warwick House. The Sidneys, Earls of Leicester, lived
in the Old Bailey. The Staffords, Dukes of Buckingham, lived in Milk
Street. (See Appendix V.)
We must add to this list the houses more or less connected with
the sovereigns. Such as the King’s Ward Mote, the Tower Royal, the
Erber, Cold Harbour, Baynard’s Castle, Crosby House, Bridewell, the
Savoy, the great nobles’ houses along the riverside, which came
later; the Halls of the City Companies; the town houses of Bishops
and Abbots, especially those on the south side; the town houses of
the country gentry, such as those of Pont de l’Arche in the reign of
Henry I., or of Sir John Fastolf in the fifteenth century; the houses in
the City used for trade and official business such as Blackwell and
Guildhall; and the houses of the great City merchants such as those
of Philpot, Whittington, and Picard, and we have a list not to be
equalled by that of any other area of the same size.
Of the architecture of London churches before the Fire we need
not speak—one or two, especially St. Helen’s, St. Ethelburga, St.
Bartholomew the Great, and St. Mary Overies, survive to show us
what they were; that is to say, it is impossible in most cases to know
at what period a church, long since destroyed, was built, repaired, or
rebuilt. The general opinion is that these ancient churches were not
remarkable, as a rule, for beauty or splendour. Outside each lay its
churchyard, a narrow enclosure continually being encroached upon
as land grew dear. Before the Fire a great many of the churches
were hidden from the streets by the houses which had been built
upon part of the churchyards. The present condition of St.
Ethelburga is an example of this; other examples occur in the
houses which stand on the north side of St. Mary le Bow, on the
north side of St. Alphege, and all round St. Katherine Colman. The
swallowing up of churchyards is shown by the miserable fragments
remaining of those belonging to St. Peter, Thames Street, St. John
the Baptist, St. Olave, Silver Street, St. Osyth, St. Martin Outwich,
while the restoration lately completed of St. Martin, Ludgate Hill,
proved that the so-called Stationers’ Garden on the north side of the
church had once been the burial-ground. And there are many other
instances. The architecture of the Monastic Houses belongs to all
contemporary buildings of the kind. That which may still be studied
at Westminster consisted of a noble church, as splendid, as stately,
and as rich as the brothers could afford or could effect by the help of
their friends. Beside the church was the cloister, which was the
actual living-place of the brethren. There they walked, sat, worked,
and talked. Within the cloister was the garth, the open space which
was sometimes turned into a garden, and sometimes served as a
burying-ground; monks were also buried beneath the stones of the
cloister. The open carved work in later times was glazed; the hard
stones—seats and floor—were covered with cloth and carpet; there
were desks for those who studied. On one side of the cloister was
the Chapter House, where the monks assembled every morning. On
the other side was the Abbot’s House. On the fourth side was the
Refectory, a hall which the Brethren loved to make stately, like the
church; not for purposes of gluttony, but of hospitality, and because
they were jealous of the fair fame of the House. Besides these
buildings were the library, the Scriptorum, the Calefactory, the
Dormitories, the kitchen and cellar, the Misericorde, the Infirmary,
and the gardens. All these things belong to every Monastic House. In
London there was so great a number of them, that we passed House
after House as we walked along the wall, and saw spire after spire,
tower after tower; they circled London as with a chain of fortresses
to keep out the hosts of hell. We come next to the great noble’s
town house, and the rich merchant’s house. We have already
regarded the appearance of such a house. It was entered by a gate
of architectural beauty, without a portcullis or a ditch, for there was
no fortified house in the City except the Tower; though many of the
houses were so strongly built, and protected by gates so massive,
that any sudden outbreak of the mob could be kept back; thus the
house of the Hanseatic merchants possessed gates massive enough
to keep out the mob until relief arrived, or the foreign merchants
could make good their retreat upon the river. You may learn the
appearance of such a house from that of Hampton Court or any old
College of Oxford or Cambridge. It consisted of at least two square
Courts and a Hall between; a guard-room over the gate; a stable; a
place for arms; a kitchen with buttery, cellar, storehouses, and a
garden. Round the courts ran buildings two storeys high; the rooms
were long and low and only used as sleeping-rooms.

HALL OF THE KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN

One will find the houses more unclean than the streets. What can
one expect? The floors are strewn thick with rushes, and it is costly
to change them; they lie, therefore, thick with accumulations of
refuse—bones, grease, and every abomination. Rushes are warm
even after they are dirty, and warmth comes before cleanliness. Yet
if we were to go into those houses where the better sort of citizens
live, we should find sweet herbs and fragrant branches and strong
perfumes scattered about to counteract the close and evil-smelling
atmosphere of the sleeping-rooms.
Let us consider the construction and the furniture of a London
citizen’s house. Not, that is, such a house as Crosby Hall, which was
a palace, or that of the Earl of Warwick, which was a barrack as well
as a Palace, but the house of the substantial merchant, one of the
better sort, say the house of a retail trader, and the house of a
craftsman.
Among the treasures collected by Riley may be found the
specifications for building a new house. It is evidently a house meant
for a man of position, one William de Hanington, a pelterer, i.e. a
skinner or furrier: a member of a most wealthy and flourishing trade
at a time when men and women of every consideration wore furs for
half the year. Whatever the position of this pelterer, the house
designed for him was evidently, though the dimensions are not
given, large and commodious. Here are the exact words:—

“Simon de Canterbury, carpenter, came before the Mayor,

etc.... and acknowledged that he would make at his own proper
charges down to the locks, for William de Hanigtone, pelterer,
before the Feast of Easter then ensuing, a Hall and a room with
a Chimney, and one larder between the same hall and room:
and one sollar over the room and larder: also, an oriole at the
end of the Hall beyond the high bench: and one step with an
oriole, from the ground to the door of the Hall aforesaid, outside
of the Hall: and two enclosures as cellars, opposite to each
other, beneath the Hall: and one enclosure for a sewer, with two
pipes leading to the said sewer and one stable between the said
Hall and the old kitchen and twelve feet in width with a sollar
above and stable, and a garret above the sollar aforesaid: and
at one end of such sollar there is to be a kitchen, with a
chimney: and there is to be an oriole between the said Hall and
the old chamber 8 feet in width.”

According to Riley, the first oriole is an oriel window such as is

commonly found in a Hall, the second oriole is a porch, and the third
is a small chamber. Without this explanation the document would be
unintelligible.
 “THE LADIES’ BOWER”
From MS. in British Museum. Harl. 2278.

The house was to contain a large hall with, no doubt, a fire under
the lantern in the middle of the hall; also a sitting-room with a
chimney near the hall, but with a larder between. In the larder was,
one supposes, the entrance to the cellars. The “old chamber” with
the “oriole” beside provided two bedrooms; the solar or upper
chamber over the larder and sitting-room was another bedroom; the
solar and garret over the stable gave two more bedrooms; there was
the “old kitchen” and there was the new kitchen. In all, five
bedrooms, two sitting-rooms, and two kitchens, with cellars and
other things. The buttery or larder always stood, for convenience,
next to the hall. Sometimes it was called a Spence, and the servant
who attended to it was called the Spenser or Despencer, which
shows the origin of a very common surname found everywhere,
from the House of Lords to the village pothouse. The room with a
chimney next to the larder was sometimes called the “berser” or the
“ladies’ bower”: some houses had a “parlour” or room where visitors
of distinction might be received. Such was the house of a substantial
citizen. As for the house of the retailer, there are many pictures
which leave us in little doubt as to the appearance of these houses.
Thus, as good an illustration as I know of the mediæval street with
its shops is given by Lacroix (see Science and Literature in the
Middle Ages, p. 161). The street is quite narrow: there is no gutter
running down the middle, but perhaps this was an oversight of the
limner. The pictures represent four shops, viz., that of a barber, an
apothecary, a tailor, and a furrier. The houses are detached, not
standing side by side in a line, but each according to the will of the
builder: they are built of wood and plaster, and are gabled, with tiled
roofs. There is a room—the solar or sollar—above the shop and a
garret in the roof. The barber’s shop has a sign: it is a pole
projecting into the street horizontally, hung with brass or latoun
basins, which indicate an important part of the barber’s calling. The
shops are all open to the street, and the goods are displayed upon a
counter. (See Appendix VI.) A pent-house, or pentice, projecting
from the front of the house, protects the goods on the counter;
hangings on either side shelter them further from wind and rain and
sun; and there is a curtain suspended from the pentice for still
further protection. This illustration represents a French town. In
London it was necessary to ensure a greater amount of protection
against cold, and rain, and hail, and snow. Consequently the upper
half of the window was covered in and glazed, while the lower half
in very cold weather was closed by means of a shutter. In summer
the shutter disappears, and the window is always open. This
arrangement was probably what Chaucer calls a “shot” window. Mr.
Baring-Gould (Old Country Life) gives plans and drawings of two
ancient country houses. The first of these shows the houses built
round a small court, into which all the windows of the house looked.
A gateway, over which was a room, led into the hall, a room of 20
feet by 15 feet. Beyond the hall was the ladies’ bower. Above the
bower were bedrooms. The kitchen, buttery, and dairy took up two
other sides of the court. In front of the house were the yard, the
barn, and the stables. The court was no more than 18 feet square.
We have, therefore, the court as the leading feature of a mediæval
house; it survives in colleges and in some almshouses to this day.
The dimensions of the court marked the splendour or the humility of
the house. The rich merchant when he began to build laid down his
court with a view to the proportions of his hall; we may be quite
sure that Whittington sat in a hall which proclaimed his wealth; the
great hall of Crosby House was not the only noble hall belonging to
a City merchant.

WHITTINGTON’S HOUSE IN SWITHIN’S PASSAGE, MOOR-LANE

The following details and specifications are found in the MSS.

belonging to the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul’s, and printed in an
abridged form in the 9th Report of the Royal Historical Commission,
p. 20:—
“Agreement between Master Walter Cook and Sir Henry Jolypas,
clerks, and John More, tymbermongere, and John Gerard, carpenter,
citizens of London, for the erection of three shops in Friday Street,
with one cellar below. The three shops are to have three ‘stalles’ and
three ‘entreclos’ on the ground floor. On the first floor each house is
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