It was quite right and natural that, before the Protestant fury against saint worship, or the intercession of Saints, the people of London should entertain a profound belief in the protection extended to them by their own Saint—one whose name and fame were spread over the whole of Christendom—for instance, refer to the family history of Arnold FitzThedmar (p. 67). Thomas Becket was without any doubt a citizen, and the son of a citizen—even, at the outset, intended for the mercantile life. The Saint, quite early in his beatitude, listened benignantly to the prayers of William, afterwards the Leader with the long Beard, and guided him and his friends safe to port and to victory. Such a story spread, naturally, in all directions. It was the greatest honour for the City to possess such a Saint; every day the pride in St. Thomas grew and was increased by reports and rumours of miracles wrought in answer to the prayers of pilgrims.

There was another reason why St. Thomas became the tutelary Saint of London. The Mediæval enthusiasm over their Saints was liable to wane and fade away, and even to vanish. The old Saxon Saints—where were they? The shrine of St. Erkenwald still blazed with golden vessels and tapers of wax, but miracles were rare: there were still churches dedicated to St. Ethelburga, St. Osyth, St. Swithin, not to speak of the Danes, St. Olaf and St. Magnus, but no one looked any longer for miracles. As the faded images in a fifteenth-century rood screen now appear to the modern ecclesiologist, so the figures of their Saxon saints in the thirteenth century had become mere umbræ, shadows of the past. The shrine of Edward the Confessor was still splendid, but the King’s miracles were no longer, so to speak, quoted by the pilgrims and the miracle-mongers. The city wanted a new Saint. Heaven gave them one—all their own—in Thomas of Chepe.

Therefore, on the day when the Lord Mayor was sworn at the Exchequer, he repaired to the chapel of St. Thomas Acon with the Aldermen; after prayer and praise at his altar, they formed a procession and thence marched to St. Paul’s, where they went to the Pardon Churchyard in the precinct of St. Paul’s, where were buried Gilbert Becket and his wife; and thence they marched back to St. Thomas Acon, where every one offered a penny.

Let us consider how such a Foundation as this, not one of the richest, yet always a prosperous House, was enriched and maintained. In the first place, the original endowment was ample, if not plentiful, for the expenses of a modest number of Brethren. But the bequests of grateful or penitent or pious citizens speedily began to pour in. During the three hundred and fifty years of its existence, there never quite ceased, though the violence diminished, a continual stream of gifts. Thus, during the period from 1262 to 1535 (Sharpe’s Wills), about forty perpetual chantries were founded. These bequests show the affection of the citizens for their Saint. But there were greater and more important gifts. Henry the Third, Edward the First, Geoffrey FitzPeter, the Earl of Essex, Edward the Third, Henry the Sixth, were all benefactors to this Hospital. The Mayor and Commonalty were visitors of the House; the Mercers’ Company, on a vacancy in the Mastership, had the right to nominate two or three of the Convent, from whom the brethren were to choose their master.

Between the Hospital and the street, Sir John Allen, Mercer and Mayor in 1525, built a very beautiful Chapel, and on his death in 1544 was buried in it. Over the Chapel was a Hall—Newcourt says the Mercers’ Hall. The Chapel was clearly along the line of the street—if the north side of Chepe was yet in alignment— because, some years after the Dissolution, the body and tomb of Sir John Allen were removed to the Church itself, and the Chapel was divided into shops, and so let out for rent; after the Fire, which consumed the whole, the shops were rebuilt on the same site.

Among the names of those who were buried in this church, we find those of the Butlers—Earls of Ormond; Cavendish, of the fourteenth century; Frowyk; Leigh; and many others. The church is said to have been a “large and noble structure, consisting of a choir and the body of a church with side aisles.” (Newcourt.)

The House was surrendered in 1539, the last master being one Lawrence Gospeller, who received a pension of £66: 13: 4. The annual income was estimated at £277: 3: 4. Through the offices of Sir Richard Gresham, the Mercers purchased the site and opened the church again in 1541 as the Mercers’ Chapel. Here was kept a Free Grammar School, removed after the Fire to the site of St. Mary Colechurch.

[CHAPTER VIII]
ST. ANTHONY’S

The Hospital of St. Anthony stood in Threadneedle Street, exactly opposite Finch Lane. It was originally a cell to the House of St. Anthony in Vienne, and was founded as such in the reign of Henry the Third. According to Stow, the Jews had built a synagogue there, which was taken from them and converted into a church dedicated to the Virgin. This church became the Chapel of the Hospital. The House consisted of a master, two priests—afterwards enlarged to fourteen,—and twelve poor men. To the ground thus occupied there was afterwards added a Messuage, with a garden which, under the mastership of John Carpenter (1441), was made into a school and an almshouse. The school received from Henry the Sixth certain manors for the maintenance of five poor scholars at Oxford, allowing ten pence a week for every scholar. This, making allowance for the present value of money, would not mean more than ten shillings a week, which would make a very bare subsistence for a young and hungry student. The general stipend of a chantry priest, which, I suppose, was the lowest form of preferment, was £6 a year, or about 28d. a week.