The sixth group of streets in our division of the City contains all those streets lying north of St. Paul’s Churchyard and Ludgate Hill.

We may consider this group as connected with Newgate Street and the streets to the north, and Paternoster Row with the streets and lanes to north and south. These lie partly in the ward of Farringdon Within and partly in that of Farringdon Without.

Probably at or before the beginning of the thirteenth century, certainly in its latter half, the present two wards of Farringdon Without and Farringdon Within formed but one ward under one alderman. That ward in early records is found named, as are most other wards, after its successive aldermen, thus: “Ward of Anketin de Auvergne” (1276-77) (Riley’s Memorials); “the ward which was that of Ralph le Fevre” (1278); “Ward of William de Farndone” (1283); “Warda Willelmi de Farendone infra et extra” (1286-87). Yet just before the last date the ward was called after the two City gates which it contained, thus: “Warda de Lodgate et Neugate: Willelmus de Farndon [aldermannus]” (c. 1285) (Sharpe, Calendar of Wills); and so it continued some time, for we find: “Warda Ludgate et Neugate presentat Nicholaum de Farndon [aldermannum]” (1293). In each case the whole ward, both within the gates and without, is intended, but it is said that the part without the gates was sometime known as the “Ward of Fletestrete” (Riley’s Memorials). In the fourteenth century the name of William de Farendone became permanently attached to this ward, as: [warda] “Farndon Infra [et] Farndon Extra: Nicholaus de Farndon [aldermannus]” (1319-20) (Sharpe); [warda] “Farndone infra et extra” (1320) (Riley); “Warda de Farndone” (1320); “Garde de Faryngdone” (1383). In 1393 the ward was made into two wards, each with its separate alderman. Henceforward the aldermanry without the walls was known by an equivalent to the present style, as: “Ward of Farndone Without” (1415) (Riley); “Ward of Faryndone Without” (1416) (Riley); “Ward of Faryngdon Without” (1444) (Catalogue of Ancient Deeds); “Warde of Faringdon Extra, or Without” (1598) (Stow); and so on with varieties of spelling.

The Roman gate of the west stood a little to the north of the later gate. The massive alcoves of the gate were uncovered in Giltspur Street near the end of the nineteenth century.

According to Stow, the “New Gate” was erected by Henry I. to relieve the traffic which had been stopped by the enclosures of St. Paul’s Precinct. Formerly, he said, the traffic had been conducted along a single street leading from Aldgate to Ludgate. There is evidently some confusion here. The “West Gate” is mentioned in a charter dated 857. It is possible that it means Ludgate; it is not, however, probable that the Saxons allowed the trade of the north and the west, which was brought down the great highway to the marsh of Thorney and was then, even before the Roman occupation, diverted along Oxford Street and Holborn, to resume its old course across the Marsh and Thorney Island, or that they would have gone out of their way to construct a new line of route along the present Piccadilly and the Strand.

It seems perfectly certain that the old line of trade was followed, partly because trade always does follow in accustomed lines, and partly because there was no reason why it should not do so. I read, therefore, the history of Newgate as follows:—The Roman Highway lay along Oxford Street and Holborn; it crossed the valley of the Fleet by a causeway through the mud and by a bridge over the stream—the causeway kept in place by piles and the bridge also resting on wooden piles. On the other side, the causeway sloped up the bank to the west gate, which stood on the hill as part of the Roman wall. When the Saxons in the sixth century came in to the City the causeway and the bridge had been swept away and destroyed; the old gate was ruinous. The merchants themselves, when they resumed the former trade, found it easier to break through the wall than to clear away the ruins of the old gate. They then made their own causeway and built their own bridge over the marshy valley and the stream. When Alfred restored the walls, he accepted the new gate and probably strengthened it, and built up the wall over the old Roman gate. This gate it was which Henry I. rebuilt, not, as Stow says, built. By this time, however, Ludgate had been opened as a postern; another causeway and another bridge had been built across the valley, and houses were springing up along the rising ground of Fleet Street and the Strand. And it is also quite possible that the rebuilding of the gate led to some reconstruction of the line of way through the City.

Henry I., therefore, rebuilt New Gate.

It was a prison from the first. All the City gates were prisons, the upper chambers being strong and easily guarded by the permanent watch below. Newgate, however, became a more important prison than any of the others, “as appeareth,” says Stow, “by records in the reign of King John and of other kings.”

It would take a whole volume to pass in review the prisoners of Newgate. Let me take one—an obscure person—because he belongs to the life of London, whereas the better known prisoners belong to the history of the country. It was on the eve of Pentecost, 1388, that William Wotton, Alderman of Dowgate, went to the Shambles in Newgate Street and asked of one Richard Bole, a butcher, the price of certain pieces of beef. Richard replied that it was four shillings. “That,” said the Alderman, “is too dear.” Quoth Richard, impudently, “I do verily believe that the meat is too dear for thee; who, I suppose, never bought as much meat as that, for thine own use.” Observing, then, that the inquirer wore an Alderman’s hood, he asked, “Art thou an Alderman?” “Yes,” William Wotton replies; “why askest thou?” Whereupon he said, “It is a good thing for thee and thy fellows, the Aldermen, to be so wise and wary, who make but light of riding on the Pavement, as some among ye have been doing.” Here we have reference to some grievance of the day. Why should the Aldermen ride upon the pavement? One supposes that the pavement was meant for the convenience of the stalls and not intended for horses. It was constructed in 1339.

However, William Wotton very speedily had this impudent butcher laid by the heels in Newgate. He was haled before the Mayor and sentenced to six months’ imprisonment, after which he was to carry a lighted taper through the Shambles and Chepe as far as St. Lawrence Lane, when he was to offer his taper at the Guildhall Chapel. His fellows of the same trade, however, petitioned, and the imprisonment was remitted; but he walked in procession bearing that lighted taper, an object-lesson to those who would beard an Alderman.

In the fifteenth century the want of ventilation and the confinement of many in so narrow a place bred gaol-fever, which never afterwards left the prison. In 1419 the gaolers of Newgate all died, and prisoners to the number of sixty-four.

The case of Hugh le Bever may also be mentioned. He was charged with the murder of his wife Alice. He refused to plead. He was therefore taken to Newgate and there put in penance until his death. That is to say, he was placed in solitary confinement—one can still see the narrow cell in the old gate-prisons (for example, that at Rouen)—and there left to his own meditations, with a daily allowance of bread and water. One wonders how long the poor wretch lingered there. Perhaps his mind fell into a comatose condition in which the days passed on without any other feeling than that of blank misery, while the body grew weaker. Perhaps he went mad. Perhaps he begged to be taken out and hanged. So difficult it was, so heavy the task of making the people obedient to the law.

In the fourteenth century we find a new departure of a remarkable character. There sprang up a new thing in the land—a feeling of compassion for the misery of the unhappy prisoners of Newgate and other gaols in London. The wills beginning in the year 1348 show bequests for the poor prisoners. From 1348 to 1500 the wills published in the Calendar show eighty-one such bequests. This is very curious. It shows an humanising influence of some kind—what was it? Not the influence of monks and friars, because their spiritual force was fast declining. Was it the Lollarding with which the City of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries was notoriously “infested”? The question is not easy to answer. But the fact remains. Further, we find that light bread was confiscated and given to the prisoners of Newgate; that all other kinds of food when confiscated for any reason, were also sent there; and that broken meats were sent to the prison from all men’s tables. It would appear, therefore, that no food was supplied to prisoners at the time, an inhuman practice, followed, until their abolition, by all the debtors’ prisons, causing for hundreds of years miseries unspeakable and incredible, were it not that compassion is a plant of such slow growth and so fragile.

The outbreak of gaol fever of 1419 was caused by the well-meant but injudicious action of the Mayor and Corporation.

They issued an ordinance, the reason of which is explained by the preamble.

“Whereas the commendable intentions and charitable purpose of those who have been governors and presidents of the City of London heretofore have ordained a prison, called Ludgate, for the good and comfort of poor freemen of the said city who have been condemned, to the end that such poor prisoners might, more freely than others who are strangers, dwell in quiet in such place, and pray for their benefactors, and live upon the alms of the people.... Now, from one day to another, the charitable intentions and commendable purposes aforesaid are frustrated and turned to evil, inasmuch as many false persons, of bad disposition and purpose, have been more willing to take up their abode there, so as to waste and spend their goods upon the ease and licence that there is within, than to pay their debts; and, what is even more, do therein compass, conspire, and imagine oftentimes, through others of their false coin, to indict good and loyal men for felonies and treasons of which they have never been guilty.”

In other words, freemen of the City chose rather to live in the gaol of Ludgate, on the alms provided for poor prisoners, than to work and pay their debts; and, worse still, they made use of their time to get up conspiracies against honourable citizens. The only remedy that could be devised was to move all the prisoners to Newgate, and close the gaol. This was done in the month of June, but in November, Richard Whittington being mayor, it was found that most of the wretches taken to Newgate had died there, “by reason of the fetid and corrupt atmosphere”; whereupon Ludgate was reopened, “seeing that every person is bound to support and be tender of the lives of men.”

In April 1431, Whittington being dead, the prisoners of Ludgate were once more removed to Newgate, and, to the general indignation, eighteen of them were led through the streets, pinioned as if they had been felons, to the Sheriff’s Compter, probably with the view of not crowding Newgate again. But in June of the same year they were all taken back to Ludgate, which remained a debtor’s prison for the citizens of London till the year 1762, when the gate was taken down and the prisoners removed to the London Workhouse in Bishopsgate Street. This double removal looks as if works of enlargement or of repair were in progress at Ludgate. Twenty years later, in 1454, it was greatly enlarged by Dame Agnes Forster; see also p. 196.

Meanwhile, however, New Gate and Prison had been enlarged or practically rebuilt by Whittington, who began it, and his executors, who finished it. He seems to have furnished the prison with additional chambers on the south side. It is pleasant to think that one of the last actions of this great and good man was to improve the “fetid and corrupt atmosphere in the noxious Prison of Newgate.”

It may be remarked that the gate was decorated with a bas-relief of the famous cat, showing that there was current in Whittington’s own life the story of the cat.

Other works of repair, enlargement, and restoration were carried on in 1555 and in 1630. In 1666 the gate and prison were destroyed in the Great Fire, but rebuilt in 1672.

The gate was removed in 1767, and now the prison has been demolished also.

The modern account of Newgate Prison will be found in London in the Eighteenth Century, p. 538.

Outside Newgate and on the western edge of the river, there was a suburb dating from very early times. It grew up round Smithfield where horses were bought and sold, and where young men shot with the bow and ran and wrestled. It contained the people who belonged to the service of the religious houses there, and those who belonged to the hospital. We also find, outside Newgate, “rents” in the thirteenth century, and bakehouses and tanneries also outside Newgate, while the spurriers in 1355 are enjoined to work in their quarters outside Newgate until curfew rings from St. Sepulchre’s Church.

Within Newgate, where a “pavement” was constructed to keep the stalls from the mud of the unpaved street, was the Market of the Shambles. Here were two churches—St. Ewen’s, at the north-east corner of Warwick Lane, and St. Nicholas Fleshambles in what is now King Edward Street, formerly Butcher’s Lane or Stinking Lane. Both parishes were united to form that of Christ Church after the Dissolution.

Newgate Market is generally spoken of as a meat market only, which in later years it became; but formerly many other things were sold there. It is the natural tendency of markets to admit goods for sale other than those for which they were created.

Thus we find in the fourteenth century that wheat was sold in the “corn market of Newgate”; that poulterers who were freemen had to sell their fowls either in Newgate Market or else west of the Tun in Cornhill; that cheese brought into the City by “foreigners” had to be sold in the market between the Shambles and Newgate, and nowhere else; that blacksmiths were forbidden to sell their goods except in the pavement of Newgate or else by the Tun of Cornhill; and that pork was also sold in the market. Further investigations would doubtless bring to light the fact that it became a general market.

There was a great deal of trouble with the butchers. They were an unruly class—we have seen how one of them was put to shame for impudence; they persisted in pouring the blood from the shambles down the gutters; they carried the offal through the streets, and threw it into the river at the Temple. In 1369 strict ordinances were passed that animals should be slaughtered outside the walls. As the butchers disobeyed the law it was again proclaimed two years later, with the exception for the butchers of East Chepe and the Stocks. I do not think, however, that the slaughter of beasts was ever carried on without the walls. The market stood all along Newgate Street, with a “Middle Row” of sheds, under which were the stalls for the sale of grain, cheese, butter, poultry, etc., besides that of meat. The butchers also had their stalls in Butchers’ Lane. The Middle Row became like that in Holborn—a row of houses over shops. This Middle Row must have made Newgate Street narrow and intolerably dark and close. The Great Fire swept it away, and among the improvements made after the Fire it was ordered “that the Ground where the Middle Row of the Shambles stood and the ground of the four late houses in Newgate Market between Warwick Lane End and the Bell Inn there shall be laid into the streets” (Maitland).

Those who can remember Newgate Street before the butchers’ shops were taken to Smithfield, can bear witness to the horrible appearance of the street, lined as it was with butchers’ shops, where the passenger, who never went through the street if he could avoid it, was jostled by greasy blue smocks, and saluted on the cheek with ribs and legs of bleeding ox flesh. The end of Newgate Street and of Paternoster Row facing Cheapside was, in 1720, called Jackanapes Row, a modern name given for some unknown reason. Passing along Newgate Street on the north side we come to Christ’s Hospital.

When we pass from the pre-Reformation schools to the great institution of Christ’s Hospital, which has become indissolubly associated with the name of Edward VI., the first Protestant king of England, we might expect to find that we passed from darkness to light; from groping in the dark after fragmentary hints of evidence, to an era of charters and documents well known and well understood. Yet there is no great school the history of which has been more misunderstood or misrepresented than that of Christ’s Hospital. In 1898, at the laying of the foundation stone of the new buildings at Horsham, Sussex, which are destined to convert Christ’s Hospital from a London school into a “non-local” public school, the Duke of Cambridge, as Chairman of the Governors of Christ’s Hospital, gave the layer of the stone, the Prince of Wales, a succinct version of the story of its origin.

“It was founded,” he said, “by the saintly King Edward the VIth, who, besides assigning it a site in the City of London, with his own hands inserted in the charter power to take lands in mortmain, which has enabled the munificence of subsequent benefactors to provide for nearly three and a half centuries for the nurture and education of children.”

So the historian of Cambridge University, Mr. J. Bass Mallinger,^[13] speaking of Edward VI. had said: “Upwards of 30 Free Grammar Schools founded at this time have permanently associated the name of Edward VI. with popular education”; and among the thirty free grammar schools founded by him, he includes Christ’s Hospital.

Carlisle, in his Endowed Grammar Schools, made a more cautious statement.

“The precise endowment of the institution by the Royal Founder is not known. It is certain that part of the premises which it now comprises, commonly called Grey Friars and the Cloisters, with a part of the building, were given by Edward VI.”

A closer examination of the facts will show us that Christ’s Hospital was not founded as a grammar school; that neither site nor buildings were given by Edward VI.; and that he did not inscribe a licence in mortmain with his own hand. Christ’s Hospital was founded as a Foundling Hospital and Ragged School for gutter children of both sexes, by the inhabitants of London, by means of public subscriptions and rates, on a site and in buildings already acquired by the City from Henry VIII., and Edward VI.’s contribution to it consisted of a piece of parchment, some confiscated church linen, and his name.

Perhaps the most startling revelation to those who have heard so often of the magnificence of the foundation of Edward VI., is to find that Christ’s Hospital at first had no endowments beyond its sites and buildings, and never received a penny of income from the property comprised in Edward’s charter.

Christ’s Hospital is alone among the great public schools in that it has entirely departed from the class and the objects for which it was originally intended. Winchester and Eton, Westminster and St. Paul’s were intended always for the same class or classes which now frequent them. The scholars were meant to be, and were, taken from the poorer members of the upper middle class, squires, parsons, barristers, merchants, and the like, “who could not, without help, send their sons to the University”; the commoners or paying boys from the richer members of the same class. Christ’s Hospital, unlike these, was intended for the poorest of the poor. Its foundation was not due, like that of the other ancient public schools, to any single founder, or to any desire to further education. It was a part of a great scheme to put down pauperism, and so effect by voluntary and charitable effort what in Elizabeth’s day and since has been effected, or attempted, by compulsion and the Poor Law. It was intended to rid the streets of London of the curse of sturdy rogues and vagabonds, on principles which were strictly in accordance with the doctrines of political economy, and would be highly approved by the Charity Organisation Society. It aimed at getting rid of the poor by setting those who were merely unfortunate to work, while making things unpleasant for the undeserving and idle, and by bringing up their children in the way they should go to earn their own living.

The establishment of Christ’s Hospital is inextricably mixed up with that of the other “Royal Hospitals,”^[14] St. Bartholomew’s and St. Thomas’s Hospital and the Bridewell. It may be traced to a movement to rid London, and especially the parish churches, of the crowds of poor, some sick and diseased, some mere idle “rogues and vagabonds.” Historians like Father Gasquet in his Henry VIII. and the Monasteries, following some older authors, laudatores temporis acti, write as if beggary and vagrancy were a special product of the Reformation Era, and were caused by the suppression of the monasteries. This is putting the cart before the horse. It could easily be shown that hundreds of years earlier the State made efforts to put them down. But for the present purpose we need go no further back than the first part of the sixteenth century. In London an Act of Common Council,^[15] passed in 1518, before Luther had ever been heard of beyond Wittemburg, and long before the suppression of monasteries had even been dreamt of by Henry, directed that for getting rid of “all mighty beggars, vagabonds, and all other suspect and evil-disposed persons out of this city, every alderman in his ward shall get two or three persons in each parish to form lists of all persons living on alms, and certify them to the Common Council.”

But, while the monasteries and friaries, and especially the latter—those great schools of pauperism and seminaries of beggary—were continually creating new swarms of the poor they were supposed to relieve, any real diminution of beggary was hopeless. We find the Common Council in 1533, before the suppression, vainly trying to abate the evil by the institution of a voluntary poor-rate, directing the aldermen to “weekly depute some honest persons of every parish to gather the devotions of the parishioners, and the same to be delivered at the church doors to poor folk,” so as to prevent them crowding into the churches, carrying their disgusting sores and infection with them.

Almost immediately after the dissolution of the monasteries, August 1, 1540, the City began to negotiate with Henry VIII. for the purchase of the “four houses and churches of Friars,” the Black, White, Grey, and Austin, because they were the finest buildings in the City after St. Paul’s and St. Martin-le-Grand. The Grey Friars’ Church was no less than 300 feet long. The City urged that they would be “a very great comfort, aid and refuge for the avoiding and eschewing” of plague and sickness. They offered “a thousand marks esterling (£666: 13: 4), if they can be gotten no better cheap, down for them.”^[16] Sir Richard Gresham was the negotiator, and had to inform the court of aldermen that His Highness thought the citizens “pinchpence” to offer so little, and refused. At last, however, in 1547, they came to an agreement, not for all the houses unfortunately, but for the Grey Friars only. They also acquired St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, which had been dissolved as part of the Priory of St. Bartholomew, and Bethlehem or Bedlam Hospital, which, being in the hands of the secular clergy, had not been dissolved. What was paid for the grant does not appear in the documents; though that something considerable was paid there is little doubt. On December 27, 1547, the City got a conveyance from Henry, confirmed by charter of the same date, with a licence in mortmain precisely in the same words as the one which, we are told, was so providentially invented by Edward VI.; as was perhaps not surprising since the formula was some two centuries old.

Henry purported to make the grants of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital and the Grey Friars’ Church, cloisters, and conventual buildings with the whole precinct, and all the houses in it, valued at some £50 a year, because he considered “the miserable estate (the poor, aged, sick, sore and impotent people), as well men as women, lying and going about begging in the common streets of the City of London^[17] and the suburbs of the same... to the great infection and [an]noyance of his grace’s loving subjects.”

St. Bartholomew’s was to be a hospital or house for the poor. The Grey Friars was not granted for a hospital but for a church. It was to be a parish church for the Grey Friars’ precinct, Newgate and St. Sepulchre’s parish, with a vicar; “a visitor of Newgate,” or prison chaplain, and five other priests, partly curates, partly chantry-priests, all to be appointed by the corporation of the City. The City, that is, “the Mayor and Commonalty and citizens,” were given a licence in mortmain to hold lands up to the value of a thousand marks a year for the purposes of this grant. By the same grant they were made the custodians of the Bethlehem Hospital.

The Common Council, on obtaining possession of the Grey Friars’ Church, promptly gutted it^[18] of all its famous and beautiful tombs, royal and civic alike, stripping down its stall-work, and reducing the dimensions of the nave. In fact, they emulated the Crown and nobility in the work of plunder and destruction, not sparing their own ancestors.

At first efforts were made to maintain St. Bartholomew’s Hospital by voluntary donations, “a weekly collection of the devotion of the people,” but this was found not to “take any good success or semblance of good contynnance,” and by an order of Common Council, September 29, 1547, “a moietie or half deale of one hole fiftene” was levied for its support. In December 1543 certain dues levied in respect of the measuring of leather up to 500 marks a year were granted to it; and the other 500 marks to be paid out of the half-fifteenth^[19] was assessed instead on the Companies at the rate of £24 a quarter from the Mercers down to 13s. 4d. a quarter from small Companies like the Glaziers.

In 1549 the City was already in treaty with the Protector Somerset^[20] “for the alteration of parcel of the foundacion of the house of the poor.” Nothing, however, was done during his stormy reign, which ended by his being sent to the Tower in January 1550. In the following Lent, Lever,^[21] the Master of St. John’s College, Cambridge, preached some famous sermons at St. Paul’s Cross, inveighing against the breach of the Acts of dissolution both of monasteries and chantries, according to which the proceeds were to be applied “for erecting of Grammar Schools, the further augmenting of the Universities and better provision for the poor.” He voiced, not merely the wishes of his own college and university, but also those of the City of London. Edward VI.’s action has been attributed to a sermon of Ridley “the martyr,” the Bishop of London, in 1552. It seems doubtful, however, whether Ridley was the prime mover or only an agent of the City. A letter of his own, intended to be pathetic, but which surely must have had a ring of comicality even to his contemporaries, goes to show that Lord Mayor Sir Richard Dobbs was the originator of the movement.

“O Dobbs, Dobbs, alderman and Knight, thou in thy year didst win my heart for evermore for that honourable act, that most blessed work of God, of the erection and setting up of Christ’s holy hospitals and truly religious houses which by thee and through thee were begun.... Thou didst plead their cause (the cause of Christ’s ‘silly members’) yea and not only in thine own person thou didst set forth Christ’s cause but to further the matter thou broughtest me into the Council Chamber of the City before the Aldermen alone, whom thou hadst assembled there together to hear me speak what I would say as an advocate by office and duty in the poor man’s cause.”^[22]

The Bishop, in fact, acted as the Bishops of London now do, as a kind of public orator and common vouchee of all charitable organisations; he was not the originator or organiser.

The detailed story of the foundation is told in an account written by J. Howes, “Renter” of Christ’s Hospital, in the form of a delightful dialogue between Dignity (an Elizabethan alderman) and Duty, or Howes himself.^[23]

Dobbs, he tells us, with the Bishop and a few others, “devised a book” to provide for the various classes of poor. “First^[24] they devised to take out of the streets all the fatherless children and other poor men’s children that were not able to keep them, and to bring them to the late dissolved house of the Grey Friars, which they devised to be an Hospital for them, where they should have meat and drink and clothes, lodging and learning, and officers to attend upon them. They also devised that there should be provision made to keep the sick from the whole, and laid a ‘platte’ (a plot or plan) to have purchased Finsbury Court, and there to have kept the children in fresh air in the time of sickness, because they feared lest through the corrupt nature of the children, who might infect one another, being packed up in one house, and so put the whole city in danger of infection. Then the Governors devised that the sucking children and such as were not able to learn should be kept in the country and always at Easter brought home.” The lame and aged poor were to be removed to St. Thomas’s Hospital, forthwith; the “Lazar” people should be removed out of the streets, and have monthly pensions paid to them to the end they should not annoy the King’s subjects resorting to the City; and all the decayed poor citizens should be made known and every one of them have weekly a pension according to his necessity. But “all the idle and lusty rogues, as well men as women, should all be taken up and conveyed into some house where they should have all things necessary and be compelled to labour.” A committee of thirty was appointed to collect statistics. They reported that the number to be provided for was—

They then set to work to provide ways and means.

The committee of thirty found close on £1500 themselves. The parsons were set to work to extract weekly “pensions” from their parishioners; boxes were distributed to the wardens of every Company. There was a “devise that every honest householder in London should have a bill printed, wherein there was a glass window left open for his name and for his sum of money,” and the churchwardens were to get these filled in.

In February 1551^[25] the City began to negotiate for the purchase of “the Hospitall in Suthwarke,” the Hospital of St. Thomas À Becket in Southwark, which until the Dissolution had been in the hands of Augustinian canons. On the 25th March the Privy Council granted an order for the purchase to be carried into effect. A detailed estimate of the charges and net income of the hospital on the proposal to purchase is extant at the Record Office.^[26] From this it appears that the total gross value of its possessions was £314: 17: 1: the charges for the poor, the priests, and so on were estimated at £154: 17: 1, leaving a surplus of about £160 a year. Of this, £36 odd was derived from land estimated at twenty years’ purchase, and £123 from houses and cottages taken at fourteen years’ purchase. The City paid £2461: 2: 6 down for the grant of the endowment, with the hospital site and buildings thrown in. The transaction was completed by Letters Patent of August 12 and 13, 1551, which included a licence in mortmain up to £46 a year above the issue of the lands, i.e. £200 a year in all.

Having acquired St. Thomas’s Hospital for the sick poor, the City next set itself to work to petition^[27] the King for a grant of the old palace of Bridewell. For the proposed inhabitants of this they had in “readiness most profitable and wholesome occupations for the continuing in godly exercise... which is the guider and begetter of all wealth, virtue and honesty.” This was followed up by a further grant of the Savoy Hospital, founded by Henry VII. on the site of the old mansion of John of Gaunt, and completed by Henry VIII. It was intended for old soldiers and pilgrims.

We gather from Howes that the motives of the King in making the grant of Bridewell, and of the revenues of the Savoy Hospital, to Christ’s Hospital were not of the very highest order.

“What” [says Dignity] “should move the King to depart from so beautiful a house as Bridewell was, so richly garnished, with so great charges, and being so late builded, and to convert the lands of the Savoy to the City?”

“The situation of Bridewell” [replies Duty] “was such that all the cost was cast away; there was no coming to it but through stinking lanes or over a filthy ditch, which did so continually annoy the house, that the King had no pleasure in it. And therefore the King being required by the citizens to converte it to so good a use God moved his heart to bestow it to that use, rather than to be at any charge in keeping of it, or to suffer it to fall down; and so not profitable to any. And this, I am sure, was the reason that moved the King. For at that time it stood void and was daily spoiled by the keepers. And now as touching the turning over of the Savoy lands you shall understand that the Savoy was erected by King Henry VIIth in the time of papistry chiefly for pilgrims, wayfaring men, and for maimed and bruised soldiers that they might have meat, drink and lodging for a time. The pilgrims being suppressed and so no use of them, and as for such wayfaring men and soldiers as that house did commonly harbour, [they] were none other but common rogues and idle pilfering knaves, which they received in at night and every morning turned out at the gates without meat, drink or clothes; and so lay wandering all day abroad seeking their adventure in filching and stealing, and at night came and were received in again. And so the Savoy was nothing else but a nursery of all villany. The revenues and profits of the rents came wholly to the use of the Masters, who were priests, and officers of the house. And so the virtuous prince King Edward had great reason in converting the lands to the City, where the poor received the profits.”

The Savoy lands were worth £450 a year; but the institution was in debt to the amount of £178, which the City had to pay off, and they also had to pension the officers of the Savoy Hospital to the extent of £101: 6: 8 a year.

According to Howes, all the income from endowment went to St. Thomas’s Hospital, the Bridewell was maintained by labour, and Christ’s Hospital chiefly by the liberal devotion of the citizens; but if any one of these three wanted then the other two did supply the lack.

Meanwhile on July 26, 1552, the City began to repair the Grey Friars for the use of the poor children.

Separate committees of the thirty above-mentioned were appointed to prepare or “make sweet” the various places for the poor. That for Christ’s Hospital consisted of Mr. Roe, “which was afterwards Lord Mayor,” as Treasurer, and Stephen Cobbe, John Blondell, Thomas Lodge, Thomas Bartlett, Thomas Eaton, and Richard Grafton as “surveyors.” “The late dissolved Grey Friars at that time^[28] stood void and empty, only a number of ‘whores and rogues’ harboured therein at nights; saving one Thomas Bryckett, vicar of Christchurch, with whom the Governors compounded and bought all his tables, bedsteads and other things; and made out of his lodgings ‘a compting house and lodging for their clerk.’” Then they appointed officers: a warden, clerk, steward, butler, under-butler, cook, two porters; surgeon, barber, tailor, coal-keeper, a “mazer” or bowl scourer, a matron, twenty-five sisters or nurses, a porter, and a sexton. With them were also the schoolmasters in the old triple division of grammar, song, and writing, with reading (assumed in the ordinary grammar school to have been already mastered) added.

There was—

John Watson the writing master was also clerk, in which latter capacity he received £10 a year. The status of the various teachers may be judged from the fact that the head surgeon received the same stipend as the head schoolmaster; the under-surgeon received £4 against the usher’s £10, while the arts got £8. The “Absies,” i.e. ABC or elementary schoolmaster, received 13s. 4d. a year more than the barber, and a great deal less than the porters, who had £6 a year each.

The foundation was a stupendous charitable effort, the money it cost being certainly underestimated by the common reckoning at twelve times the then value, or £30,000 of our money. It included, for instance, “500 feather beds, and 500 pads of straw to put under the feather beds, and as many blankets and 1000 pair of sheets” from one contractor alone. In all, double that number was provided. But many “there were that brought feather beds, coverlets, sheets, blankets, shirts and smocks, and disbursed great sums of money, which never came to any public account.” The “virtuous prince” himself was most generous. He issued a warrant under his own hand “that all the linen belonging to the churches in London should be brought and delivered to the Governors for the use of the poor, reserving sufficient for the Communion Table, with towels and surplices for the ministers and churches.” The linen, we are told, did good service, “and especiale in St. Thomas Hospital.”^[29]

In November 1552^[30] no less than 380 children were taken into the house. At first the “idle men and women” were also brought into Christ’s Hospital “and put in what is now (i.e. in 1582) the schoolmaster’s house, where they were kept from doing any further harm, although not employed to any occupations, for the place served not.” When Bridewell was obtained, the workhouse folk were removed there; but this was not before midsummer 1554.^[31]

The preparation of Christ’s Hospital was entirely done by voluntary contributions. For St. Thomas’ the City granted £100, and “turned over” to it “£50 a year of that which had been purchased from the King.” But no endowment income was forthcoming for Christ’s Hospital. Nor is it possible to ascertain how much capital was given for Christ’s Hospital alone as the contemporary “State and charge of the new erected Hospitals—A.D. 1553”^[32] gives the cost of St. Thomas’ indistinguishably mixed with that of Christ’s Hospital. The total was £2479: 15: 10, towards which £2476 was received in subscriptions and donations.

Though Christ’s Hospital was in full working order from November 1552, the legal foundation, which appears to have been delayed by the conclusion of the arrangements about Bridewell, was not complete till June 1553. An “Indenture of Covenants,” dated June 12, 7 Edward VI. (1553), was made in English between the King and the mayor, commonalty, and citizens of London, which was carried out by Letters Patent in Latin on the 26th June. The patent contained grants of the manor of Bridewell, the lands belonging to the Savoy Hospital, and the bedding in the same; but not the hospital itself. It created the City Corporation a special corporation with a separate common seal by the name of “the Governors of the possessions, revenues and goods of the Hospitals of Edward the Sixth, King of England, of Christ, Bridewell and St. Thomas the Apostle,” and gave them a licence in mortmain to hold lands for the purposes of the three hospitals up to 4000 marks (£3333: 16: 8) a year.

The charter in the most distinct terms emphasises the poor law character of the foundation, and states also with equal distinctness that the idea did not originate with the King. “Whereas we pitying the miserable estate of the poor, fatherless, decrepit, aged, sick, infirm and impotent persons, languishing under various kinds of diseases, and also of our special grace thoroughly considering the honest and pious endeavours of our most humble and obedient subjects the Mayor and Commonalty and citizens of our city of London, who by all ways and methods diligently study for the good provision of the aforesaid poor and of every sort of them”—such is the preamble to the grant. The charter deals with every class of destitute poor: sick, aged, orphans; the poor by misfortune; and rogues and vagabonds; the wilfully poor. The preamble states as its object “that neither children yet being in their infancy shall lack good education and instruction, nor when they shall attain riper years shall be without honest callings and occupations, nor that the sick or diseased when they be recovered and restored to healthe may remain idle and lazy vagabonds, but that they in like manner may be placed and compelled to labour.” In like manner the conclusion of the charter is a grant to the corporation of power to search towns and playhouses, and arrest ruffians, vagabonds, and beggars.

The story of the boy king inserting the licence in mortmain with his own hands is absurd. The licence, occupying a good quarto page of close print, is in the usual legal common form. The story arose, no doubt, from an exaggerated version of Strype’s^[33] tale that “space was left in the patent for His Grace to put in what sum it pleased him” up to the yearly value of which the City might hold lands in mortmain for the hospitals, not Christ’s Hospital alone, but all together. “He looking on the void place called for pen and ink, and with his own hand wrote this sum, 4000 marks by the year.” Unfortunately for the story, in the patent the sum is written in the same hand as the rest of the document, and the sum had been previously settled, since it appears in the agreement executed a fortnight before, and could not have been altered without a breach of contract. In the agreement it is written in a different hand to the rest of the document; but there is no reason to think that it was Edward’s own hand, which it does not the least resemble. So much for the legend of St. Edward the VI. It is as apocryphal as the picture, said to be by Holbein, which hangs in the Great Hall of Christ’s Hospital and shows Edward on his throne surrounded by the Council, giving the charter to the Lord Mayor on his knees, while 15 boys and 15 girls of the Hospital kneel in the foreground, the smallest boy and girl facing the throne and holding up their hands in rapt admiration. It is a matter of history that the poor boy-king died within a week of the date of the charter—July 6, 1553,—and was invisible for many days before he died; a passing glimpse of him being exhibited to assure the people that he was still alive.

The foundation of Edward VI. nearly succumbed under his successor Mary. When “she came out of Norfolk and was to be received into London, the Governors set up a stage without Aldgate and placed themselves and the children on the stage, and prepared a child of the Free School to make an oracion to hir. But when she came near unto them she cast her eye another way and neither stayed nor gave any countenance to them.” “She did not like ‘the blewe boyes,’” said Howes; “but if they had been so many Grey Friars she would have given them better countenance.” According to him, “the Friars made great friends and great means to be restored to that house because it stood whole, and was not spoiled, as other houses were, but they never durst open their mouths to suppress that house as long as Friar John was within the land.” He tells a famous tale, “how Friars Peto and Perrin did their good wills to have subverted all.” But Friar John, a Spaniard, was brought by the rest of the Commissioners to have his opinion, who, “being there at dinner-time and seeing the poor children set at the tables in the hall and seeing them served with meat, he was so wrapt in admiration that suddenly he burst into tears, and said in Latin to the company that he had rather be a scullion in their kitchen than steward to their king.” “Alfonsus,” the King’s Confessor, also supported them, while Dr. Story was made a friend by having been given the lease of the house where he dwelt, which was “parcel” of the Friars, for he thought that if the Friars were restored that then they would bring his house in question; while the Bishop of Chichester being tenant of the chief lodging of the Prior was also friendly for the same reason. The children were therefore kept undisturbed, though Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, when Chancellor, “clapped Mr. Grafton fast in the Fleet for two days because he suffered the children to learn the English Premier when they should have learned the Latin Absies (A, B, Cs).”

There is plenty of evidence as to the class of children taken into Christ’s Hospital. The most striking is a passage from Howes’ book. “A number of the children,” he says, “being taken from the dunghill, when they came to sweet and clean keeping and to a pure diet died outright.... And a number of them would watch daily when the porters were absent that they might steal out and fall to their old occupation.” This is corroborated by the Court Book of the Hospital, which unfortunately only begins in December 1556, with such entries as this: May 10, 1557, “Graunted that a woman child left on Mr. Gunter’s stall in Cornhill, and by him kept since Candlemas, should be admitted.” November 8, “a woman childe left in a pewe at St. Peter’s, Cornhill, admitted.” March 14, 1557, a child “found in Thames Streete near the Bridge admitted.” In the “Children’s Register,” beginning 1563, we come across many names pointing to the foundling origin of the children. Richard Nomoreknowen, five years old. He died in the sick-ward in 1570. Augustine Old Change, six years old. “To service, March 30, 1567.” “Dorothy Buttriedore” (she had evidently been deposited behind the buttery door), “three years old. To service, 1570. Delivered to Mr. His for his own, but received back. Delivered to Margaret Garraway for her own, 1571; again to F. Tousbury, April 19, 1572.” “Jane Fridaiestreete, aged six, sent to service 1568.” Perhaps the two quaintest names were “Grace-That-God-sent-us,” “delivered out on the 19th, and died April 21, 1563,” and “Jane-that-God-sent-us,” sent to service 1568.

Stow says of Christ’s Hospital: “A full Courte shal be when xiij of the Governours of this said Hospitall be assembled at the least, whereof two shal be Aldermen, the one of them to be the President, with ten Commoners besides the Thresorer; and what these xiij Persons or vij of them at the leaste, the President being one of the Number, shal decree, ordaine or agree upon, the same shal stand in Force, and shal not be altered nor disallowed except by a like Courte to be called in that behalfe.

“Item. That no Governour be taken into this Hospitall in the Place of any that shal happen to die within the Year except it be at a full Courte, to be holden as afore, for weighty Causes; and the Name of him so admitted, to be presented to the Maior and Courte of Aldermen, before he be called to receive his Charge.

“Item. That no Sale of Land, Tymber, or Wood, Lease, Alienation, Buildinge, or Reparation be determined or done, of Lands or Tenements geven to th’ onlye Use of Christ’s Hospitall, or in any wise belonginge properlie to the same, except at a full Courte, to be holden in the said Hospitall as before.

“Item. That no Reward be given to any Person above the Some of v Shillings at once; which must be done by the consent of the Thresorer and one of the Almoners at the least; except first the same be graunted and determined in a full Courte, as before.

“Item. That there be no Leases lett in Reversion but one Year before the ould Lease be expired; and that no such Graunt be made but by a full Courte, as before, or els not; and that all the same Leases be drawn in Paper by a Scryvenor, one of the Governours of the saide Hospitall, before they be engrossed; and he to be allowed for every Draught accordinge to the Quantitie: And the Clerke of the said Hospitall to engrosse them, and to procure the Sealing of all such Leases before the Lord Maior and Courte of Aldermen, in the Chamber of London, where the Common Seal of the Hospitall doeth remaine.

“That noe manner of Bargaines be made for Timber, Tile, or such like, or any other Necessaries for the saide howse, before the same be determined at a full Courte, to be holden as before; and the Persons then and there to be named and appointed which shal be the Doers thereof” (Stow, Appendix II.).

In 1680 Sir John Frederick rebuilt the hall at his own expense; Sir Robert Clayton rebuilt the east cloister and south front. In 1825 the Hospital was largely rebuilt.

The two chief classes in the school are the Grecians and Deputy Grecians; of which many of the former go on to the universities with exhibitions. The Mathematical School was founded by Charles II. in 1672, and the boys are called “King’s boys.” The King’s boys and Grecians are the only boys who remain in the school after the age of fifteen. The ancient costume, consisting of long blue gown, leather belt, yellow stockings, combined with an absence of head-covering, makes the boys conspicuous wherever they may be. The old customs of supping in public in Lent, and the visit to the Lord Mayor on Easter Tuesday, are still kept up. But the old English diet of bread and beer for breakfast was done away with in 1824.

Among the most distinguished names of old scholars are those of S. T. Coleridge, the poet (d. 1834), Charles Lamb (d. 1834), Leigh Hunt (d. 1859). The system of admission is by presentations by governors; the Lord Mayor makes two presentations annually. A governor must give at least £500.

For an account of the Grey Friars see MediÆval London, vol. ii. p. 348.

Christ Church, which unites the ancient parishes of St. Ewen’s and St. Nicholas and part of St. Sepulchre, stands on the eastern part of the noble Franciscan Church which was greatly destroyed by the Fire.

On the suppression of the convent of the Franciscans, their Church was named Christ Church and was made parochial. After the Great Fire it was rebuilt by Wren between 1687 and 1704. St. Leonard’s, Foster Lane, was annexed to this parish in 1672. The earliest date of a custodian is 1225. The earliest date of a vicar is 1547.

The patronage of the church was given by Henry VIII. to the governors of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, in whose successors it continues.

The present building contains two side-aisles separated from the nave by slender Corinthian columns. At the east part of the church shelves are attached to the north and south walls, to hold loaves for distribution among the poor. The steeple attains a height of 153 feet.

The original church of the Franciscans was a favourite place of sepulture. Dame Mary Ramsey, a benefactress to Christ’s Hospital and other institutions, was buried here in 1596, and a modern tablet records her deeds on the north wall of the church. The two most conspicuous monuments are those of the Rev. Samuel Crowther and the Rev. Michael Gibbs, both of whom were vicars of the parish for many years. Lady Venetia, wife of Sir Kenelm Digby, was buried here. Also the celebrated Nonconformist, Richard Baxter, in 1691, and his wife in 1681. On the east wall a tablet commemorates John Stock, who at his death in 1781 bequeathed £13,000 to charitable purposes.

No large gifts are recorded in this parish by Stow: John Bankes was donor of £1 for a sermon; Thomas Barnes was donor of £1 for a sermon, and several others were donors of the same amounts.

There were two charity schools, one for fifty boys and one for forty girls.

Some of the most notable vicars were: Sampson Price (1585-1620); William Jenkyn (1613-1685); Robert Cannon (1663-1722), Prebendary of Westminster; Joseph Trapp, D.D. (1679-1747); and William Bell (1731-1816), Prebendary of Westminster.

King Edward Street was formerly Butchers’ Lane or Stinking Lane or Chick Lane. The Franciscans, on their coming to London, were allotted a piece of ground on the west side of this lane, probably the least desirable place of residence in the whole city. When we read of shops and tenements in the Shambles, this is the place intended.

Roman Bath Street comes next. This place was formerly called Pinnock’s Lane, i.e. Pentecost Lane. Houses in Pentecost Lane are mentioned as early as 1280. It contained the forbidden slaughter-houses. At the upper end stood the Royal Bagnio. There were two Bagnios—this of Pinnock’s Lane and another in Long Acre. The Royal Bagnio was opened in 1679; it was simply a turkish bath, a place for sweating and hot bathing: for a time it was very much esteemed as a preventative against some forms of disease and a cure for headache. The Royal Bagnio contained one large room with a cupola and several smaller rooms, the walls of which were lined with Dutch tiles. The place was converted into a hot and cold bathhouse, and finally closed and pulled down in 1876.

This church was rebuilt, Stow says, about the time of Henry VI. or Edward IV., mainly by “one of the Pophames.” The greater part was destroyed by the Great Fire, and in 1670 it was again rebuilt, by whom is uncertain. It received considerable alterations in 1738, 1837, 1863, 1875, and again 1878-80. The earliest date of an incumbent is 1249.

The patronage of the church was in the hands of: Roger, Bishop of Sarum (1107-39), who gave it to the Prior and Convent of St. Bartholomew, Smithfield ; Henry VIII., who seized it and so it continued in the Crown up to 1609, when James I. gave the advowson of the Vicarage to Francis Philips and others; the President and Scholars of St. John’s College, Oxford, who presented to the Vicarage in 1662, and in whose successors it continued.

Houseling people in 1548 were 3400.

The church consists of a nave, chancel, and two side-aisles, and an adjunct on the north side called the chapel of St. Stephen; it measures 150 feet in length, 81 feet in width, and 149 feet 11 inches in height, to the summit of the tower. The organ was built by Renatus Harris, and is considered one of his finest productions; its case is said to have been the work of Grinling Gibbons.

A chantry was founded here by: John de Tamworth, who had a licence from the King to assign one messuage and sixteen cottages in the suburbs of London, for a chaplain to sing for his soul, on certain days in this church, February 20, 1373-74. Here also was founded the Brotherhood of Our Lady and St. Stephen, endowed by various persons with rents, etc., which fetched £9: 13: 4 in 1548.

Roger Ascham, Queen Elizabeth’s tutor, and author of Toxophilus and the Scholemaster, who died in 1568, was buried here, but has no memorial. Here also the remains of Captain John Smith were interred in 1631; he was Governor of Virginia and Admiral of New England, and author of the General History of Virginia. His monument has perished, but there is a replica of the original inscription on a plate on the south wall. Sir Robert Peake, a distinguished cavalier and engraver, was also interred here in 1667, but no one else of eminence appears to have been buried in the church.

In 1605 Robert Dowe gave £50 to the parish on condition that the night before every execution a hand-bell, which he presented, should be rung in front of the condemned prisoners’ dungeon, and an exhortation given them. His donation has now passed into the hands of the Charity Commissioners. No names of benefactors are recorded by Stow. According to the Record of the Parish Clerk of 1732 the donations of the poor, for ever, amounted to £250, besides which there were forty-seven other donations of less value than £40 or £20 per annum. Richard Reeves left £100 per annum. In addition, the stock of money given by eight persons was £500, and eight others gave £128: 15s. per annum to provide coals and fuel.

There were two charity schools, one for fifty boys and one for fifty girls, and without the Liberty there were two for thirty boys and twenty girls. There were also three almshouses, for eight poor people, who had from 5s. to 15s. paid them every quarter by the Company of Armourers.

Rowland Lee (d. 1543), D.D., Bishop of Lichfield, was a rector here; also C. Blake (1664-1739), divine and poet; and John Rogers, who was burnt at Smithfield, 1555.

Giltspur Street, which is alternately called by Stow Knightrider’s Street, is obviously connected with the knights riding to Smithfield.

At the south end is a low building with the inscription, “The water house erected 1791.” To the north of this are the schools, in a long low building covered with rough stucco. Little wych-elms and limes shadow the small playground before them. The row of houses succeeding are all similar—plain, severe brick; in the middle is the White Hart Hotel. Green Dragon Yard is closed by iron gates; the next court is very small. Near Windmill Court is the Plough public-house. The houses here are either brick or stucco; some old, some modern.

At the north end, on the Fortune of War public-house, at the corner of Hosier Lane, is a quaint little stucco figure of a fat child about a couple of feet high. This is Pie Corner, the spot where the Great Fire ended.

Cock Lane is a filthy, narrow little street, and looks almost deserted, as many of the buildings are untenanted. Bits of paper and refuse bestrew the pavement, grimy old warehouses stand in melancholy disorder with dirty little yards between. It is chiefly associated with the ridiculous imposture known as the Cock Lane Ghost, which deceived even Dr. Johnson. For Smithfield see p. 357.

Turning now to the streets south of Newgate, we find Warwick Lane is mentioned in the Guildhall MSS. as early as 1206; by Riley (Mem.) in 1313, and in the Calendar of Wills in 1364; in Eldedene Street (Old Dean Street) Hon. Walter Stapleton, Bishop of Exeter, had a town house. In the Chronicle of the Mayors and Sheriffs a brief account of his murder by the mob is presented.

Warwick Inn, Stow says, was formerly described as a messuage in Eldedene Lane in 28th Henry VI., when Cecily, Duchess of Warwick, possessed it. There were other houses in the Lane in the fourteenth century. It was in this house that the Earl of Warwick maintained his following of 600 men when he was in London.

We have already read (pp. 4, 6) of the beheading of Walter Stapleton, Bishop of Exeter, in Cheapside; he was seized as he was riding towards his hostel in “Eldedeaneslane” to dine there; and just then he was proclaimed a traitor: upon hearing of which he took to flight and rode towards St. Paul’s church, where he was met and instantly dragged from his horse, and carried into “Chepe”: and there he was despoiled, and his head cut off. Also one of his esquires, William Walle by name, and John de Padington, warden of the said bishop’s manor, were beheaded the same day in Chepe. On the same day towards Vespers came the choir of St. Paul’s and took the headless body of the bishop into St. Paul’s, where they were given to understand that he had died under sentence, upon which the body was carried to the church of St. Clement [Danes].

About the same date is a grant by Godfrey de Acra, chaplain to the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul’s, and to a perpetual chaplain who shall celebrate for him and his benefactors in the chapel of St. James, in St. Paul’s, of all his houses, rents, etc., in the parish of St. Faith, “inter vicum veteris Decani versus occidentem et vicum Cecilie de Turri versus orientem.” He made provision for the maintenance of the chaplain, and for the distribution of the money on his anniversary: Thomas Fitz Thomas, Mayor of London, and eleven others are named as witnesses (Historical MSS., Com. Rep. IX. Pt. I. p. 9a).

Sir John Paston (1475) writes to his brother, John Paston, or to his uncle, William Paston, in Warwick Lane. The street had, therefore, in the fifteenth century received its new name after the great house of the Earl of Warwick. In 1496 William Paston wills that all “godes moveable in Warwikes Inn” shall be sold to pay his debts. When Charles V. came to England in 1522, two houses in Warwick Lane were assigned to his retinue—that of Mistress Lewes having a little entry, a hall, two chambers, and three feather beds; the other that of Edward Sharnebroke having one hall, four chambers, two parlours, a chapel, four feather beds, with houses of office, and a stable for eight horses.

In the Historical MSS. Report IX. there are many deeds and documents in which this street is mentioned. Roman remains have been found here.

In the street stood the College of Physicians built by Wren.

The first house of the College was that of Linacre, physician to Henry VIII., the founder of the College in Knightrider Street: the Physicians then moved to Amen Corner and, after the Fire, to Warwick Lane, where they continued until 1823 when the new College in Pall Mall East was opened by Sir Henry Halford.

There were two famous inns in Warwick Lane, of which one was the Bell.

“Archbishop Leighton used often to say that if he were to choose a place to die in, it should be an Inn; it looking like a pilgrim’s going home, to whom this world was all as an Inn, and who was weary of the noise and confusion in it. He added that the officious tenderness and care of friends was an entanglement to a dying man; and that the unconcerned attendance of those that could be procured in such a place would give less disturbance. And he obtained what he desired; for he died [1684] at the Bell Inn in Warwick Lane.”

The inn has gone, but Old Bell Inn Yard, now a railway booking-office wagon yard, is there to mark the site. On the west side was an equally famous inn, the Oxford Arms.

At the Oxford Arms Inn lived John Roberts, from whose shop issued the majority of the squibs and libels on Pope. The inn was south of Warwick House.

Views of this picturesque old inn have been preserved in the Crace collection.

The Cutlers’ Hall adds vivid colour to Warwick Lane farther north by its brilliant red brick, and its handsome frieze in relief. It is faced with red sandstone. The next few houses look doubly grimy by contrast with their neighbour.

An Ordinance of the Cutlers was enrolled in the Guildhall in the year 1380. Their dissensions with the Sheath-makers were settled in 1408; and in 1413 we find (Riley, p. 597) the freedom of the City withdrawn from one William Wysman because, being already a member of the trade of Cutlers, he had joined that of the Coursers (horse-dealers).

There are no means for supplying the exact date of the foundation of the Company, but it would appear that it was in existence in the year 49 Edward III., as at that time it was stated to have elected two members of the Court of Common Council.

It would appear that the first charter granted to the Company was in the reign of Henry V., 1415, which was confirmed by a charter of Henry VI. in 1422. Charters were also granted by Henry VIII. in 1509, Philip and Mary in 1553, Elizabeth in 1558, and James I. in 1607. James II., in 1685, revoked these charters; but in 1668 the Act of James II. was made void, and by a statute of William and Mary in 1689 the charter of James I. was confirmed, and it was subsequently reaffirmed by a charter of Queen Anne in 1703. The charter, therefore, of James I., which was granted in 1607, is now the governing charter of the Cutlers’ Company. The Company has no means of furnishing an abstract of the earlier charters, nor would this appear to be necessary, inasmuch as they are documents of record.

The Cutlers were united some time with the Sheath- and Haft-makers, a fact commemorated in their arms, the supporters of which are two elephants.

In 1898 the number of the livery was 100; the Corporate Income was £5350; the Trust Income £50.

On the south side of Cloak Lane, east of College Hill, is the old site of Cutlers’ Hall. The history is retraceable to the twelfth century. Lawrence Gisors, living, apparently, in the reign of Henry III., possessed this land: his son Peter succeeded; Peter’s son John, by will enrolled 1282, ordained that his houses in St. Michael, Paternostercherche parish, should be sold to fulfil his testament:^[34] the site in question was presumably involved. Stow records, without giving a date, that it afterwards passed to Hugonis de Dingham; moreover, that in 1296 Richard de Wilehale confirmed to Paul Butelar the edifices upon the same land. The boundaries at the time were: the stream of Walbrook on the east; Wilehale’s own tenement to the south; Paternoster-church Lane, now College Hill, on the west. Butelar was to pay yearly “one clove Gereflowers^[35] at Easter, and to the prior and convent of St. Mary Overie, Southwark, six shillings.” Simon Dolseley, pepperer, mayor 1359, owned it and bequeathed it for life to his wife Johanna by will dated 1362.^[36] In the year 1451 Thomas Frill executed to the Cutlers Company a conveyance of messuages in College Hill and Cloak Lane. The property consisted of two houses: one became converted into the Company’s Hall, and one served as a house for their beadle. The Fire of 1666 necessitated complete rebuilding. The new hall was erected in 1667-68; it received Maitland’s praise in 1739 as “convenient and beautiful.” Allen, 1828, differs: in his eyes it was “a plain brick building, totally devoid of architectural adornment.”

When the Cutlers’ old Hall was pulled down the present College Hill Chambers was built upon its site.^[37]

On the north-west corner of Warwick Lane is an effigy of Guy, Earl of Warwick. He is dressed as a knight in armour, and the stone bears date 1668. The capital letters “G. C.” on one side, and below are the words—

Restored J. Deykes 1817 a ch. 492, Pennant’s London, 5th edit.

The last word and the date are only conjectural, being considerably worn away.

White Hart Street, on the east side of Warwick Lane, connected it with Newgate Market, the square afterwards called Paternoster Square. White Hart Street was chiefly occupied by poulterers.

Rose Street connected Newgate Street with Newgate market.

Ivy Lane occurs in 1312, where an Inquisition was held as to a piece of land between that and Warwick Lane. It was also called Fulk-mere-lane or Folks-mare-lane. Riley (Memorials, p. xii.) thinks that Ivy Lane was inhabited in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries by wax chandlers, who supplied wax tapers for St. Paul’s and the City churches. The symbolic use of the lighted taper, borne through the streets by way of punishment and penance, is not easy to understand in a country and an age when, happily, ecclesiastical symbolism is little practised. There was a club held at the King’s Head Tavern in Ivy Lane, 1749-65. Dr. Johnson was a member. Every visitor to London turns out of St. Paul’s Churchyard or Newgate Street to see the sign still remaining on the east wall of Panyer Alley. It consists of a pannier with a boy sitting upon it, and the inscription—

with the date August 26, 1668. I believe that this is not the highest ground. The site of the “Standard” in Cornhill is slightly higher.

Newgate Street formerly ended at Panyer Alley, where Blowbladder Street began, which ran on into Cheapside, and is now included in it.

It is evident, by a glance at the map, that Newgate Street was here a continuation of Cheapside. So far Stow’s statement about the continued street from Aldgate to Ludgate is confirmed. But if we consider the improvements effected here after the Fire, we shall understand that there was at first no thought of a continuation of Cheapside into Newgate.

Newgate Street, then, ended at Panyer Alley. What followed was a narrow lane bending sharply to the south. Into this lane on the north ran another narrow lane, now St. Martin’s-le-Grand. Panyer Alley was a passage only wide enough for one person at a time, and there were many of these narrow passages from one street to another. After the Fire, Blowbladder Street was enlarged to the breadth of 40 feet. This increase of width made it possible for Newgate Street to appear as a continuation of Cheapside; the lane running through St. Martin’s-le-Grand was also enlarged to the breadth of 40 feet; and Panyer Alley was enlarged to the breadth of 9 feet and paved with freestone. Further, to block the passage from Cheapside to Newgate, there stood outside Paternoster Row the parish church of St. Michael le Querne.

St. Michael le Querne derived its name Querne, or Corn, from its proximity to a corn-market. It was repaired in 1617, but burnt down in the Great Fire and not rebuilt, its parish being annexed to that of St. Vedast. The earliest date of an incumbent is 1274.

The church has always been in the gift of the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul’s.

Houseling people in 1548 were 350.

Chantries were founded here: By Robert Newcomen, at the Altar of the Blessed Virgin Mary about 1304, for himself and for Matilda his wife—William Wilton was chaplain and died in 1370; by John Combe, at the Altar of St. Katherine, for himself, and Petronella his wife—licence was granted by the King, May 18, 1405; by John Lydat, whose will was dated June 23, 1545—he gave £7: 10s. for a priest for seven years; by John Mundham before 1310.

John Leland, the antiquary, was buried here in 1552; his monument perished in the Fire, but his great work, The Itinerary, still remains. The church also contained a monument in memory of John Bankes who died in 1630, leaving £6000 to be distributed amongst various charities and parishes. In 1605 Sir Thomas Browne, author of Religio Medici, was baptized here.

There were several bequests given to the poor for clothing and bread; but no names are recorded by Stow.

Anthony Tuckney (1599-1670), Master of Emmanuel College, Cambridge, and Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge, was rector here; also George Downham (d. 1634), Bishop of Derry.