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religious houses and robbed the monastery coffers, in order to have means wherewith to rebuild it. Much of the material was obtained from the destroyed houses of the Jews, but the stone for the bulwarks was obtained from Caen, and the small bricks or tiles from Flanders. This is supposed to have been the same gate that is described by Stow, and was taken down in 1606. It had originally two pairs of gates, but there was only one pair in Stow's time, although the hooks of the other pair still remained.

In 1374 (48 Edward III.) the Mayor, Aldermen, and Commonalty of the City of London leased the dwelling-house above the gate of Aldgate to the poet Chaucer for life, and from the original document it appears that he was not allowed to underlet any part of the house to others. The authorities bound themselves not to use the gate as a gaol during Chaucer's life. The Chamberlain had power to enter at all times to see that the place was properly maintained. In times of danger the house might be entered for the purpose of defence.

In spite of this provision there must have been considerable danger from this use of the City gates as dwelling-houses. In 1381, during Wat Tyler's insurrection, when the men of Essex and Kent met at Mile End, they found no difficulty in pouring into the City through Aldgate. An attempt was made to obviate this evil in 1386, when it was enacted that the gates should no longer be let as dwelling-houses.

During the century that had elapsed since Wat Tyler's easy entrance into the City, greater attention appears to have been paid to the protection of the gates, and when Thomas Nevill, son of Lord Thomas Fauconbergh, made his attack upon London in 1471, he experienced a very spirited resistance. He first attempted to land from his ships in the City, but the Thames side from Baynard's Castle to the Tower was so well fortified that he had to seek a quieter and less prepared position.

He then set upon the several gates in succession but was repulsed at all. On May 11 he made a desperate attack upon Aldgate, followed by 500 men. He won the bulwarks, and some of his followers entered into the City; but the portcullis being let down, they were cut off from their own party and were slain by the enemy. The portcullis was then drawn up and the besieged issued forth against the rebels, who were made to fly.

Bishopsgate obtained its name from the famous Erkenwald, Bishop of London (who died in 685). The Hanse merchants were charged with the safe-keeping and repair of the gate, and were free of the toll levied on others. The Bishop of London had the privilege of receiving one stick from every cart laden with wood which entered the gate, and in return he was bound to supply the hinges.

Moorgate was a postern in the wall made in the year 1415 to lead out into the moor of London. This place was a constant trouble to the City. It was first drained in 1527, laid out in walks in 1606, and first built upon late in the reign of Charles II.

Our earliest notice of Cripplegate dates from 1010, in which

year the body of King Edmund the Martyr was carried into London. through this entrance. It, like Moorgate, was only a postern at first.

A barbican or watch tower was built to the north of the gate, as an outwork for observation and defence, and the little village with its Fore Street, which grew up outside the walls, was sheltered behind it. The care of this important position was naturally given to trustworthy persons, and there is an interesting little story connected with it. Edward III. appointed Robert Ufford, Earl of Suffolk, keeper of the barbican, and from him it descended in course of time to Catherine, daughter of William Lord Willoughby de Eresby, who married firstly Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, and secondly Richard Bertie. Bertie and his wife the Duchess were Protestants, and in Queen Mary's reign their lives were in such great danger that they had to fly from the country. Between four and five o'clock in the morning of January 1, 1554-1555, the Duchess began her adventurous journey in a thick fog. She had to escape with the greatest secrecy, for no confidence could be placed in the bulk of her dependents, but in spite of all precautions her departure was discovered. After she had descended as noiselessly as possible, and passed into the street, she was alarmed by the appearance of a person issuing from the house, bearing a torch in his hand, and evidently bent upon discovering the cause of the unusual bustle at this early hour. The Duchess was standing up under a gateway, and the light of the torch might at any moment be thrown upon her so as to reveal her hiding-place to the man. She therefore left her baggage and provisions and fled, but her pursuer was close at hand when she suddenly turned into Garter House, which was close by. The man, seeing no one, retraced his steps; on his return he discovered the baggage, and while he was examining the contents the Duchess again issued forth. pass into the City through Cripplegate but walked on to Moorgate. Thence she proceeded safely to Billingsgate, and there found her husband. Soon after she had got out of the country she gave birth to a son at Wesel. He was named Peregrine, from the circumstance of his being born in a foreign land and during the wanderings of his parents. This child grew up to be one of Queen Elizabeth's greatest generals, popularly known as the "brave Lord Willoughby."1

She dared not

Aldersgate was one of the old gates leading to an important northern thoroughfare.

Newgate is said to have borne originally the name of Chamberlain's Gate. It alone of the gates has remained associated with a prison.

Ludgate was of great antiquity. The name it bore is not easily explained, as King Lud was not an historical character. Outside these gates grew up the suburbs, and in course of time bars were erected to define the extent of the liberties. The next great boundary of London to be noticed is the Thames. It was the great means of communication between places in London, and was covered with boats. London 1 The ballad of the "Brave Lord Willoughby" is in Percy's Reliques, ad S., Bk. ii.

Bridge was for many years made hideous with the heads of beheaded men. Jack Cade set up there the heads of those he executed and soon afterwards his own found rest in the same place. The heads were sent up from all parts of the country, and at one time so many were stuck up upon the bridge that men spoke of the "harvest of heads." On Lord Mayor's day 1425, when there existed a feud between the Duke of Gloucester and Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, a battle on the bridge was imminent. The Duke charged the Mayor and Aldermen to keep good watch in the City, and the gates. of the bridge were carefully secured. On the morrow the Bishop's men drew the chains at the Southwark end, and knights and esquires issued out of Winchester House in battle array; when the news was spread abroad all the shops in the City were closed in haste, and people came down to the gates of the bridge. Then the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Prince of Portugal treated between the opposing potentates Gloucester and Winchester, and eight times they rode "bytwyne the duke and byschoppe that day." At last peace was restored, every man went to his home and no harm was done to the City.

The various quays at this time were thoroughly guarded, and boatmen were governed by many stringent rules.

We must also bear in mind that there were in many parts of London bridges across the watercourses, which are now covered over and have become nothing more than sewers.

It was not until after the Restoration that the whole aspect of the town was changed. When the cavaliers returned with the exiled King, they did not care to return to their family mansions, and in consequence the City was almost entirely given up to the merchants. Then came the Fire of London, which led to a great change in the appearance of the place.

The years 1665 and 1666 were two of the most eventful in the history of London. In the summer of the former year the plague broke out, and so terribly did the numbers of those struck down increase, that soon the streets were deserted and few houses were to be seen without the red cross and the words, "Lord have mercy upon us," marked upon them. The plague was scarcely stayed before the whole City was in flames.

On Sunday, September 2, 1666, the fire broke out in the morning at a house in Pudding Lane. Samuel Pepys, then living in the Navy Office at Crutched Friars, was called up at three o'clock to see the fire, but not thinking much of it he went to bed again. When, however, he got up for the day he found that about 300 houses had been burnt in those few hours. A violent east wind fomented the flames, which raged with fury during the whole of Monday and great part of Tuesday. On Tuesday night the wind fell somewhat and on Wednesday the fire slackened. On Thursday it was extinguished, but on the evening of that day the flames again burst forth at the Temple. Some houses were at once blown up by gunpowder, and thus the fire was

finally mastered. On the Sunday Pepys had gone to Whitehall to tell the King and Duke of York. He returned to the City with instructions for the Lord Mayor from the King to pull down houses in every direction to arrest the course of the fire. The Lord Mayor (Sir Thomas Bludworth) seems to have been but a poor creature, for when he heard the King's message, he cried, like a fainting woman, "Lord! what can I do? I am spent ; people will not obey me. I have been pulling down houses, but the fire overtakes us faster than we can do it."

The King and the Duke of York showed themselves better men at this time. They were very active, and did their utmost to encourage those around them to help in stopping the fire. Lady Carteret told Pepys a curious little fact, which was that abundance of pieces of burnt paper were driven by the wind as far as Cranborne in Windsor Park, and among others she took up one, or had one brought her to see, which was a little bit of paper that had been printed, whereon there remained no more nor less than these words, "Time is it is done." 1

The Fire consumed about five-sixths of the whole City, and outside the walls a space was cleared about equal to the sixth part left unburnt within. The total clearance was equal to an oblong square of a mile and a half in length, and half a mile in breadth.

The monument which was raised to commemorate this great calamity had an inscription placed upon it, with some particulars taken from the reports of the surveyors. "The ruins of the City were 436 acres (viz. 373 acres within the walls and 63 without them, but within the liberties); of the six and twenty wards it utterly destroyed fifteen, and left eight others shattered and half-burnt; it consumed eighty-nine churches, four of the City gates, Guildhall, many public structures, hospitals, schools, libraries, a great number of stately edifices, 13,200 dwelling-houses, and 460 streets."

The inscription, which caused Pope to write

Where London's column, pointing at the skies,
Like a tall bully, lifts the head and lies,

was set up in 1681, during the period of terror caused by the false swearing of Titus Oates and his gang. This inscription, which was finally erased in 1831, stated that the fire was "begun and carryed on by ye treachery and malice of ye Popish faction . . . in order to ye carrying on their horrid plott for extirpating the Protestant Religion and old English liberty, and the introducing Popery and Slavery."

The distress of those who were made houseless by the fire was great. The river swarmed with vessels filled with persons carrying away such of their goods as they were able to save. Westminster Hall was filled with the citizens' goods and merchandise. Treasure was

1 Diary, February 3, 1666-1667.

buried in the suburbs, as at Bethnal Green and many other places. Some of the people fled to the hills of Hampstead and Highgate, but Moorfields was the chief resort of the houseless Londoner. Soon paved streets and two-storey houses were seen in that swampy place.

We are apt to look upon Charles II.'s reign as a very dark period of our history, and with justice; but the heroism of the sufferers in this national calamity shines out brightly, and we cannot too highly praise the fortitude which was exhibited by high and low. The merchants complied with the demands of their foreign correspondents as if no disaster had happened, and not one failure was heard of. Henry Oldenburg, writing to the Hon. Robert Boyle, on September 10, says, "The citizens, instead of complaining, discoursed almost of nothing but of a survey for rebuilding the City with bricks and large streets."

Gresham College in Bishopsgate Street was converted into an Exchange and Guildhall, and the Royal Society which met there removed to Arundel House. The affairs of the Excise Office were transacted in Southampton Fields, near Bedford House. The Post Office was removed to Brydges Street, Covent Garden; Doctors' Commons to Exeter House, Strand; and the King's Wardrobe from Puddle Wharf to York Buildings.

Within a few days of the fire three several plans were presented to the King for the rebuilding of the City-one by Christopher Wren, another by John Evelyn, and a third by Robert Hooke. Evelyn, in a letter to Sir Samuel Tuke, wrote, "Dr. Wren got the start of me, but both of us did coincide so frequently that his Majesty was not displeased."

Wren proposed to build main thoroughfares north and south, east and west; to insulate all the churches in conspicuous positions, to form the most public places into huge piazzas, to unite the halls of the chief companies into one regular square annexed to Guildhall, and to make a fine quay on the bank of the river from Blackfriars to the Tower. His streets were to be of three magnitudes-90 feet, 60 feet and 30 feet wide respectively. The whole area of the City was to be levelled, and blind alleys, inferior buildings, graveyards, and noxious trades were to be excluded.

The Exchange was to stand free, and to be as it were the centre of the town. St. Paul's was to stand like the narrow end of a wedge formed by the two straight streets from Ludgate to Aldgate and Tower Hill respectively, and many streets were to radiate from London Bridge.

There is some evidence to suppose that a beginning was made of this plan, for Pepys notes in his Diary, "The great streets in the City are marked out with piles drove into the ground, and if ever it be built in that form with so fair streets it will be a noble sight."

It is usual to condemn the citizens, and to regret the non-adoption of Wren's plan, but something may be urged on the other side. In the first place, Wren only planned out the area within the walls, and

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