CIVIC RULE.

In the very centre of the old city, and only just removed from the noise and bustle of its great thoroughfare, the Chepe, lay the Guildhall, the seat of civic government. The name itself is eloquent of mediÆval feeling, when the citizens were all enrolled under their various guilds, each owing strict obedience to the master and wardens of his guild seated at their hall; and the guilds themselves, close upon one hundred in number, being in their turn under the jurisdiction of the Mayor and Aldermen, sitting in their Court at the Guildhall. These were not the times of social liberty; the oppressive rule of the great feudal lords had been exchanged for the close personal supervision of the ward, the guild, and the church.

The site of the old Guildhall corresponded with that of the present structure, but the original entrance was from Aldermanbury. An enlargement of the ancient building appears to have taken place in the year 1326, during the Mayoralty of Richard le Breton, and further extensive repairs were carried out in the years 1341-3.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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