The Pageant of the Streets
Nothing helps us to realise the condition of ancient London, its growth and expansion, like a careful study of its street-names. It shows that in the Middle Ages London was very different from that great, overcrowded, noisy, and far-extending metropolis which we see to-day. It is difficult for us in these days to realise the small extent of ancient London, when Charing was a village situated between the cities of Westminster and London; or, indeed, to go back in imagination even a century or two ago, when the citizens could go a-nutting on Notting Hill, and when it was possible to see Temple Bar from Leicester Square, then called Leicester Fields, and with a telescope observe the heads of the Scotch rebels which adorned the spikes of the old gateway. In the early coaching days, on account of the impassable roads, it required three hours to journey from Paddington to the city. Kensington, Islington, Brompton, and Paddington were simply country villages, separated by fields and pastures from London; and the names of such districts as Spitalfields, Bethnal Green, Smithfield, Moorfields, and many others, now crowded with houses, indicate the once rural character of the neighbourhood.
The area enclosed by the city walls was not larger than Hyde Park. Their course has been already traced, but we can follow them on the map of London by means of the names of the streets. Thus, beginning at the Tower, we pass on to Aldgate, and then to Bishopsgate. Outside was a protecting moat, which survives in the name Houndsditch, wherein doubtless dead dogs found a resting place. Then we pass on to London Wall, a street which sufficiently tells its derivation. Outside this part of the wall there was a fen, or bog, or moor, which survives in Moorfields, Moorgate Street, and possibly Finsbury; and Artillery Street shows where the makers of bows and arrows had their shops, near the artillery ground, where the users of these weapons practised at the butts. The name of the Barbican tells of a tower that guarded Aldersgate, and some remains of the wall can still be seen in Castle Street and in the churchyard of St. Giles', Cripplegate, the derivation of which has at length been satisfactorily determined by Mr. Loftie in our first chapter, and has nothing to do with the multitude of cripples which Stow imagined congregated there. Thence we go to Newgate and the Old Bailey, names that tell of walls and fortifications. Everyone knows the name of the Bailey court of a castle, which intervened between the keep or stronger portion of the defences and the outer walls or gate. The court of the Old Bailey suggests to modern prisoners other less pleasing ideas. Now the wall turns southward, in the direction of Ludgate, where it was protected by a stream called the Fleet, whence the name Fleet Street is derived. Canon Isaac Taylor suggests that Fleet Street is really Flood Street, from which Ludgate or Floodgate takes its name. We prefer the derivation given by Mr. Loftie. On the south of Ludgate, and on the bank of the Thames, stood a mighty strong castle, called Baynard Castle, constructed by William the Conqueror to aid him, with the Tower of London, to keep the citizens in order. It has entirely disappeared, but if you look closely at the map you will find a wharf which records its memory, and a ward of the city also is named after the long vanished stronghold. Now the course of the wall follows the north bank of the river Thames, and the names Dowgate and Billingsgate record its memory and of the city gates, which allowed peaceable citizens to enter, but were strong to resist foes and rebels.
Within these walls craftsmen and traders had their own particular localities, the members of each trade working together side by side in their own street or district; and although now some of the trades have disappeared, and traders are no longer confined to one district, the street-names record the ancient home of their industries. The two great markets were the Eastcheap and Westcheap, now Cheapside. The former, in the days of Lydgate, was the abode of the butchers. Martin Lyckpenny sings:
"Then I hyed me into Est-chepe
One cryes ribbes of befe and many a pye."
And near the butchers naturally were the cooks, who flourished in Cooks' Row, along Thames Street. Candlewick Street took its name from the chandlers. Cornhill marks the site of the ancient corn market. Haymarket, where the theatre is so well known, was the site of a market for hay, but that is comparatively modern. The citizens did not go so far out of the city to buy and sell hay. Stow says: "Then higher in Grasse Street is that parish church of St. Bennet, called Grasse Church, of the herb market there kept"; and though he thinks Fenchurch Street may be derived from a fenny or moorish ground, "others be of opinion that it took that name of Fænum, that is, hay sold there, as Grasse Street took the name of grass, or herbs, there sold." Wool was sold near the church of St. Mary Woolchurch, which stood on the site of the present Mansion House, and in the churchyard was a beam for the weighing of wool. The name survives in that of St. Mary Woolnoth, with which parish the other was united when St. Mary Woolchurch was destroyed by the Great Fire. Lombard Street marks the settlement of the great Lombardi merchants, the Italian financiers, bankers, and pawnbrokers, who found a convenient centre for their transactions midway between the two great markets, Eastcheap and Cheapside. Sometimes the name of the street has been altered in course of time, so that it is difficult to determine the original meaning. Thus Sermon Lane has nothing to do with parsons, but is a corruption of Sheremoniers' Lane, who "cut and rounded the plates to be coined and stamped into sterling pence," as Stow says. Near this lane was the Old Exchange, where money was coined. Later on, this coining was done at a place still called the mint, in Bermondsey. Stow thought that Lothbury was so called because it was a loathsome place, on account of the noise made by the founders; but it is really a corruption of Lattenbury, the place where these founders "cast candlesticks, chafing-dishes, spice mortars, and such like copper or laton works." Of course, people sold their fowls in the Poultry; fish and milk and bread shops were to be found in the streets bearing these names; and leather in Leather Lane and, perhaps, Leadenhall Market, said to be a corruption of Leatherhall, though Stow does not give any hint of this. Sopers' Lane was the abode of the soapmakers; Smithfield of the smiths. Coleman Street derives its name from the man who first built and owned it, says Stow; but later authorities place there the coalmen or charcoal-burners. As was usual in mediæval towns, the Jews had a district for themselves, and resided in Old Jewry and Jewin Street.
The favourite haunt of booksellers and publishers, Paternoster Row, derives its name, according to Stow, "from the stationers or text-writers that dwelled there, who wrote and sold all sorts of books then in use, namely, A. B. C. or Absies, with the Paternoster, Ave, Creed, Graces, etc. There dwelled also turners of beads, and they are called Paternoster-makers. At the end of Paternoster Row is Ave Mary Lane, so called upon the like occasion of text-writers and bead-makers then dwelling there." Creed Lane and Amen Corner make up the names of these streets where the worshippers in Old St. Paul's found their helps to devotion.
Old London was a city of palaces as well as of trade. All the great nobles of England had their town houses, or inns, as they were called. They had vast retinues of armed men, and required no small lodging. The Dukes of Exeter and Somerset, the Earl of Northumberland, and many others, had their town houses, every vestige of which has passed away, though their names are preserved by the streets and sites on which they stood. The Strand, for example, is full of the memories of these old mansions, which began to be erected along the river bank when the Wars of the Roses had ceased, and greater security was felt by the people of England, who then began to perceive that it might be possible to live in safety outside the walls of the city. Northumberland Avenue tells of the house of the Earls of Northumberland, which stood so late as 1875; Burleigh Street and Essex Street recall the famous Sir William Cecil, Lord Burleigh, whose son was created Earl of Essex. Arundel House, the mansion of the Howards, is marked by Arundel Street, Surrey Street, Howard Street, Norfolk Street, these being the titles borne by scions of this famous family. The readers of the chapter on the Royal Palaces need not be told of the traditions preserved by the names Somerset House and the Savoy. Cecil Street and Salisbury Street recall the memory of Salisbury House, built by Sir Robert Cecil, Earl of Salisbury, brother of the Earl of Essex mentioned above. Then we have Bedford Street, with Russell Street, Southampton Street, Tavistock Street, around Covent Garden. These names unfold historical truths. Covent Garden is an abbreviated form of Convent Garden, the garden of the monks of Westminster. It was granted to the Russell family at the dissolution of monasteries, and the Russells, Earls of Bedford, erected a mansion here, which has long disappeared, but has left traces behind in the streets named after the various titles to which members of the Russell family attained. In another part of London we find traces of the same family. After leaving Covent Garden they migrated to Bloomsbury, and there we find Bedford Square, Southampton Street, Russell Square, Tavistock Square, and Chenies Street, this latter being named after their seat in Buckinghamshire. Craven buildings, near Drury Lane, tells of the home of Lord Craven, the devoted admirer of the "Queen of Hearts," the beautiful Queen of Bohemia. Clare House, the mansion of the Earls of Clare, survives in Clare Market; and Leicester Square points to the residence of the favourite of Queen Elizabeth, and Villiers Street and Buckingham Street to that of another court favourite, the Duke of Buckingham. The bishops also had their town houses, and their sites are recorded by such names as Ely Place, Salisbury Square, Bangor Court, and Durham Street.
We might wander westward, and trace the progress of building and of fashion, and mark the streets that bear witness to the memories of great names in English history; but that would take us far beyond our limits. Going back citywards, we should find many other suggestive names of streets—those named after churches; those that record the memories of religious houses, such as Blackfriars, Austin Friars, Crutched Friars; those that mark the course of many streams and brooks that now find their way underground to the great river. All these names recall glimpses of Old London, and must be cherished as priceless memorials of ancient days.