THE GUILDHALL—LONDON STONE—TOWN BELL AND FOLKMOTE

The Guildhall is frequently spoken of in the thirteenth century; for instance, the Assise of Buildings of 1212 was given from “Gilde Hall.” Mr. Price, its historian, shows that at this time it must have stood near the west end of the present hall. This agrees with Stow, who says that it “of old time” stood on the east side of Aldermansbury, and adds that the latter was so named from the “court there kept in their bury or court hall now called the Guildhall.” Guildhall Yard was in 1294, as now, to the east of St. Laurence.[192] Giraldus Cambrensis tells us under 1191 how a multitude of the citizens met in Aula Publica, which takes its name from the custom of drinking there. This burgmote at the Guildhall in 1191 was probably the greatest event in London’s history, resulting in the removal of Longchamp and the establishment of the mayor and commune.[193] “Aldermanesbury” may be traced back to early in the twelfth century, and the name carries the Guildhall with it. Mr. Round points out that the Terra Gialle mentioned in the St. Paul’s document, c. 1130, refers to the Guildhall,[194] and when further we find that a Gildhalla burgensium at Dover appears in Domesday we can hardly doubt that the foundation of the London hall dates from the time of the Frith Gilds. In the laws of Athelstane it was ordained by the “bishops and reeves of London” that the people should be numbered in hyndens (tens), and that “every month the hynden men and those who directed the tithings should gather together for bytt filling, ... and let those twelve men have their refection together and deal the remains for the love of God.”[195]The principle, says Dr. Sharpe, of each man being responsible for the behaviour of his neighbour, which Alfred established, was carried a step further in London under Athelstane in the formation of Peace Gilds, the members of which were to meet once a month at an ale-drinking in their Gildhall.[196] Similar “Gild ale-drinkings” are spoken of in the Heimskringla, and we are there told in regard to the establishment of a “Great Gild,” that before it there were “turn-about drinkings.” All this goes together perfectly with what Giraldus says of the Guildhall of London being named from the fellowship drinkings there. He who drank to any one, Geoffrey of Monmouth tells us, said, “Wacht heil”; and he that pledged him answered, “Drinc heil.”

London Stone.—The first mayor of London (from 1191) was, as the Chronicle of the Mayors and Sheriffs tells us, Henry FitzEylwin of Londene-stone. An old marginal note in the Liber Trinitatis says that “Leovistan was the father of Alwin the father of Henry the Mayor, whose first charter is in the priory of Tortingtone.”[197] The association of London Stone with city history probably rests in great part on the fact of the mayor’s residence having been near to it. Thomas Stopleton traces, in an introduction to the Liber de Antiquis Legibus,[198] the property and descendants of FitzAlwin. The town house of the mayor was just to the north of St. Swithin’s Church, which was attached to the property. It was bequeathed to Tortington Priory by Robert Aquillon, son of the first mayor’s grand-daughter. In Dr. Sharpe’s Calendar of Wills it appears that Sir Robert Aguylun left his “mansione” in St. Swithin’s parish, together with the patronage of the church, to Tortington Priory in 1285. At the Dissolution it was granted to the Earl of Oxford. Stow says that Tortington Inn, Oxford Place, by London Stone, was on the north side of St. Swithin’s Church and churchyard, with a fair garden to the west running down to Walbrook. It was “a fair and large builded house sometime pertaining to the prior of Tortington, since to the earls of Oxford, and now to Sir John Hart, Alderman.” Munday adds, “now to Master Humphrey Smith, Alderman.” At this point I visited Oxford Place and St. Swithin’s Lane, and it seemed evident that the Salters’ Hall stood on the site of Tortington Inn. Further, on turning to Herbert’s History of the Companies, I found that the Salters’ Company purchased of Captain George Smith in 1641 the town inn of the priors of Tortington by the description of “the great house called London Stone, or Oxford House.” The chain of evidence for the site of FitzAlwin’s house thus seems complete.

The mysterious monument, London Stone, now represented by a small rude fragment preserved a few yards away from its original site, has probably borne its present name for a millenium, and its mere name shows it to have had some institutional importance.

Shakespeare here accurately follows Holinshed’s Chronicle as to the events of 1450. About 1430 the Stone is mentioned by Harding, who tells us that it marked the eastern boundary of London as built by King Lud, whose palace was at Ludgate. About 1400-30 Lydgate, in the London Lickpenny, wrote: “Then forth I went by London Stone, throughout all the Canwick Street.”[199]

The Liber Trinitatis says that a great fire in the time of Ralf the prior of Holy Trinity, 1148-67, burnt from the house of Ailwardin nigh London Stone to Aldgate and St. Paul’s. Of the Stone itself Stow says: “The same has long continued there, namely since (or rather before) the Conquest, for in the end of a Gospel book given to Christ Church in Canterbury by Athelstane I find noted of lands in London belonging to the said church one parcel described to lie near unto London Stone.”[200]

Holinshed says that the Kentish captain came from the White Hart in Southwark and “strooke his sword on London Stone, saying, Now is Mortimer lord of this city.” Mr. Coote has claimed that this must be an ancient ceremonial, at the same time advancing the impossible (after Wren’s acceptance of it as Roman) theory that the stone was a part of the house of the first mayor.[201] But I have come over to this view so far as to think it possible that its civic importance originated in its association with the house of the first mayor. According to Stow, “some have said this stone to be set as a mark in the middle of the city—some others have said the same to be set for the making of payment by debtors to their creditors, till of later times payments were more usually made at the font in Paul’s Church and now most commonly at the Royal Exchange.” Mr. Gomme, citing Brandon, says that London Stone entered into municipal procedure, as when the defendant in the Lord Mayor’s Court had to be summoned from that spot, and when proclamations and other important business of like nature were transacted there; and comparing Cade’s action with customs elsewhere, he seems to suggest that it was the centre for the assembly of the Saxon folkmotes. But the proximity of the mayor’s house, in which courts might have been held, gives reason enough for its being made use of as a place of proclamation.

The legend given by Harding is that “Lud, king of Britain, builded from London Stone to Ludgate and called that part Ludstowne.” Here we get a clue to its name London Stone, and the idea accounts for its having been to some extent the palladium of the city, of which it seems to have been regarded as the sacred and immovable foundation stone. Stow says, “On the south side of the High Street near unto the channel is pitched upright a great stone called London Stone, fixed in the ground very deep, fastened with bars of iron, and otherwise so strongly set that if carts do run against it through negligence the wheels be broken and the stone itself unshaken.” The lines from Fabyan which head this chapter refer to this same idea of stability, and evidently imply that the stone was looked on as a talisman. Strype says that before the fire of London it was worn down to a stump. But it is “now” handsomely cased with stone “to shelter and defend the old venerable one, yet so as it might be seen.” An architect, writing to the Gentleman’s Magazine in 1798, says: “It has often been called the symbol of the great city’s quiet state, from its being always believed to be fixed to its everlasting seat.” This idea of a stone of foundation has many parallels.

It was evidently a monolith, and from what Shakespeare says of Cade sitting on it, it would seem in his time not to have been more than 3 or 4 feet high above ground. Wren’s son says “London Stone, as is generally supposed, was a pillar in the manner of the Milliarium Aureum at Rome, from whence the account of their miles began, but the Surveyor [Sir Christopher] was of opinion, by reason of the large foundation, it was rather some more considerable monument in the Forum, for in the adjoining ground on the south side, upon digging for cellars after the great fire, were discovered some pavements and other extensive remains of Roman workmanship and buildings.”[202] Wren was an expert observer with a perfect knowledge of the Roman level in the city, and Dr. Woodward says he had made a special observation of the Roman remains in the city and promised an account of them. His evidence must be held sufficient to prove that the stone was of Roman origin, but was no recognisable part of a building such as a column. It was Camden who first suggested that it was a “miliary like that in the Forum of Rome,” being at the “centre in the longest diameter of the city.” Grant Allen thought it was an early Celtic monument preserved by the Romans. As to Mr. Coote’s view that it might have been part of FitzAlwin’s house, which seems to be adopted also by Mr. Round, it has also to be pointed out that the house was certainly to the north of the street, while the Stone was on the south, and St. Swithin’s Church intervened.

Town Bell and Folkmote.—An institution which must have dated from the time of the English occupation was the great assembly of all freemen in Folkmote, the final court which survives to-day in form at the election of a sovereign, when the Commons, who should have free access, are asked for their assent. Stephen was elected at the ordinary Folkmote of London, and the charter of Henry I. recognises the assembly as an existing institution. The place of assembly within historical times was the market of St. Paul’s (Forum Sancto Paulo), at the east of the cathedral against Cheap, marked by St. Paul’s Cross.

The Chronicle of the Mayors and Sheriffs tells how Henry III. in 1257 ordered the sheriffs to convene the Folkmote “at St. Paul’s Cross, to make inquiry of the commons” as to certain customs, when the populace answered “with loud shouts of Nay, nay, nay.” The position held by St. Paul’s Cross in civic customs in later times is thus accounted for. It was no mere adjunct to the cathedral, but the rostrum of London, the Market Cross at the end of Cheap. Just by it rose the city belfry (Berefridam), which contained the great town bell. Such a Beffroi is an acknowledged mark of communal liberties, and we can understand the traditional feeling which was stirred when under Edward VI. it was destroyed. Even at this day it is the Lord Mayor who orders the Great Bell of St. Paul’s to be rung on such an occasion as the death of the late Queen. Probably the “mote-bell” summoned the citizens in Saxon times, as we know it did in the thirteenth century. Dugdale says the first mention he found of the bell tower was temp. Henry I., when the schoolmaster of St. Paul’s was granted a house “at the corner of the Turret (id est the Clochier); but I suppose it was a thing of much greater antiquity, for upon a writ issued 15 Edward I., it was certified that the citizens of ancient time held the Folkmote there and rang the bell to summon the people.” The Gesta Stephani records how the citizens assembled at the ringing of the city bells and expelled the Empress Matilda.The Heimskringla tells of Olaf the Quiet, the contemporary of Edward the Confessor, that “in his days the cheaping steads of Norway hove up much.... King Olaf let set up the Great Gild at Nidoyce and many others in the cheaping towns, but formerly there were turn-about drinkings. Then was Town-boon[203] the great bell of the turn-about drinkings in Nidoyce. The Drinking Brothers let build there Margaret’s stone church.” One day Olaf was merry in the Great Gild, then spake his men, “It is joy to us, lord, that thou art so merry.” He answered, “Your freedom is my glee.”

We need a town bell in London. We might set it up to Alfred’s memory.