Its Successions of Traders—The House of Longman—Goldsmith at Fault—Tarleton, Actor, Host, and Wit—Ordinaries around St. Paul's:
their Rules and Customs—The "Castle"—"Dolly's"—The "Chapter" and its Frequenters—Chatterton and Goldsmith—Dr. Buchan
and his Prescriptions—Dr. Gower—Dr. Fordyce—The "Wittinagemot" at the "Chapter"—The "Printing Conger"—Mrs. Turner, the
Poisoner—The Church of St. Michael "ad Bladum"—The Boy in Panier Alley.
Paternoster Row, that crowded defile north of
the Cathedral, lying between the old Grey Friars and
the Blackfriars, was once entirely ecclesiastical in
its character, and, according to Stow, was so called
from the stationers and text-writers who dwelt
there and sold religious and educational books,
alphabets, paternosters, aves, creeds, and graces.
It then became famous for its spurriers, and afterwards for eminent mercers, silkmen, and lacemen;
so that the coaches of the "quality" often blocked
up the whole street. After the fire these trades
mostly removed to Bedford Street, King Street, and
Henrietta Street, Covent Garden. In 1720 (says
Strype) there were stationers and booksellers who
came here in Queen Anne's reign from Little
Britain, and a good many tire-women, who sold
commodes, top-knots, and other dressings for the
female head. By degrees, however, learning ousted
vanity, chattering died into studious silence, and
the despots of literature ruled supreme. Many a
groan has gone up from authors in this gloomy
One only, and that the most ancient, of the
Paternoster Row book-firms, will our space permit
us to chronicle. The house of Longman is part
and parcel of the Row. The first Longman, born
in Bristol in 1699, was the son of a soap and sugar
merchant. Apprenticed in London, he purchased
(circa 1724) the business of Mr. Taylor, the publisher of "Robinson Crusoe," for £2,282 9s. 6d.,
and his first venture was the works of Boyle. This
patriarch died in 1755, and was succeeded by a
nephew, Thomas Longman, who ventured much
trade in America and "the plantations." He was
succeeded by his son, Mr. T. L. Longman, a plain
man of the old citizen style, who took as partner
Mr. Owen Rees, a Bristol bookseller, a man of
industry and acumen.
Before the close of the eighteenth century the
house of Longman and Rees had become one of
the largest in the City, both as publishers and
book-merchants. When there was talk of an
additional paper-duty, the ministers consulted, according to West, the new firm, and on their protest
desisted; a reverse course, according to the same
authority, would have checked operations on the
part of that one firm alone of £100,000. Before
the opening of the nineteenth century they had
become possessed of some new and valuable
copyrights—notably, the "Grammar" of Lindley
Murray, of New York. This was in 1799.
The "lake poets" proved a valuable acquisition.
Wordsworth came first to them, then Coleridge,
and lastly Southey. In 1802 the Longmans commenced the issue of Rees' "Cyclopædia," reconstructed from the old Chambers', and about the
same time the Annual Review, edited by Aikin,
which for the nine years of its existence Southey
and Taylor of Norwich mainly supported. The
catalogue of the firm for 1803 is divided into no
less than twenty-two classes. Among their books
we note Paley's "Natural Theology," Sharon Turner's "Anglo-Saxon History," Adolphus's "History
of King George III.," Pinkerton's "Geography,"
Fosbrooke's "British Monachism," Cowper's
"Homer," Gifford's "Juvenal," Sotheby's "Oberon,"
and novels and romances not a few. At this time
Mr. Longman used to have Saturday evening receptions in Paternoster Row.
Sir Walter Scott's "Guy Mannering," "The
Monastery," and "The Abbot," were published
by Longmans. "Lalla Rookh," by Tom Moore,
was published by them, and they gave £3,000
In 1811 Mr. Brown, who had entered the house
as an apprentice in 1792, and was the son of an
old servant, became partner. Then came in Mr.
Orme, a faithful clerk of the house—for the house
required several heads, the old book trade alone
being an important department. In 1826, when
Constable of Edinburgh came down in the commercial crash, and brought poor Sir Walter Scott
to the ground with him, the Longman firm succeeded to the Edinburgh Review, which is still
their property. Mr. Green became a partner in
1824, and in 1856 Mr. Roberts was admitted.
In 1829 the firm ventured on Lardner's "Cyclopædia," contributed to by Scott, Tom Moore,
Mackintosh, &c., and which ended in 1846 with the
133rd volume. In 1860 Mr. Thomas Longman
became a partner.
Thomas Norton Longman, says a writer in the
Critic, resided for many years at Mount Grove,
Hampstead, where he entertained many wits and
scholars. He died there in 1842, leaving £200,000
personalty. In 1839 Mr. William Longman entered the firm as a partner. "Longman, Green,
Longman, and Roberts" became the style of
the great publishing house, the founder of which
commenced business one hundred and forty-four
years ago, at the house which became afterwards
No. 39, Paternoster Row.
In 1773, a year before Goldsmith's death, Dr.
Kenrick, a vulgar satirist of the day, wrote an
anonymous letter in an evening paper called The
London Packet, sneering at the poet's vanity, and
calling "The Traveller" a flimsy poem, denying
the "Deserted Village" genius, fancy, or fire, and
calling "She Stoops to Conquer" the merest pantomime. Goldsmith's Irish blood fired at an
allusion to Miss Horneck and his supposed rejection
by her. Supposing Evans, of Paternoster Row, to
be the editor of the Packet, Goldsmith resolved to
chastise him. Evans, a brutal fellow, who turned
his son out in the streets and separated from his
wife because she took her son's part, denied all
knowledge of the matter. As he turned his back
to look for the libel, Goldsmith struck him sharply
across the shoulders. Evans, a sturdy, hot Welshman, returned the blow with interest, and in the
scuffle a lamp overhead was broken and covered
the combatants with fish-oil. Dr. Kenrick then
stepped from an adjoining room, interposed between
the combatants, and sent poor Goldsmith home,
bruised and disfigured, in a coach. Evans subsequently indicted Goldsmith for the assault, but the
affair was compromised by Goldsmith paying £50
towards a Welsh charity. The friend who accompanied Goldsmith to this chivalrous but unsuccessful attack is said to have been Captain Horneck,
but it seems more probable that it was Captain
Higgins, an Irish friend mentioned in "The
Haunch of Venison."
Near the site of the present Dolly's Chop
House stood the "Castle," an ordinary kept by
Shakespeare's friend and fellow actor, Richard
Tarleton, the low comedian of Queen Elizabeth's
reign. It was this humorous, ugly actor who no
doubt suggested to the great manager many of
his jesters, fools, and simpletons, and we know
that the tag songs—such as that at the end of All's
Well that Ends Well, "When that I was a little
tiny boy"—were expressly written for Tarleton,
and were danced by that comedian to the tune
of a pipe and a tabor which he himself played.
The part which Tarleton had to play as host and
wit is well shown in his "Book of Jests:"—
"Tarleton keeping an ordinary in Paternoster
Row, and sitting with gentlemen to make them
merry, would approve mustard standing before them
to have wit. 'How so?' saies one. 'It is like a
witty scold meeting another scold, knowing that
scold will scold, begins to scold first. So,' says
he, 'the mustard being lickt up, and knowing
that you will bite it, begins to bite you first.'I'll
try that,' saies a gull
by, and the mustard
so tickled him that his
eyes watered. 'How
now?' saies Tarleton;
'does my jest savour?'
'I,' saies the gull, 'and
bite too.' 'If you had
had better wit,' saies
Tarleton, 'you would
have bit first; so, then,
conclude with me, that
dumbe unfeeling mustard hath more wit
than a talking, unfeeling foole, as you are.'
Some were pleased,
and some were not;
but all Tarleton's care
was taken, for his resolution was ever, before
he talkt any jest, to
measure his opponent."
RICHARD TARLETON, THE ACTOR (copied from an old wood engraving).
A modern antiquary
has with great care
culled from the "Gull's
Horn Book" and other
sources a sketch of the
sort of company that
might be met with at
such an ordinary. It was the custom for men
of fashion in the reign of Elizabeth and James
to pace in St. Paul's till dinner-time, and after
the ordinary again till the hour when the theatres
opened. The author of "Shakespeare's England"
"There were ordinaries of all ranks, the tabled'hote being the almost universal mode of dining
among those who were visitors to London during
the season, or term-time, as it was then called.
There was the twelvepenny ordinary, where you
might meet justices of the peace and young knights;
and the threepenny ordinary, which was frequented
by poor lieutenants and thrifty attorneys. At the
one the rules of high society were maintained, and
the large silver salt-cellar indicated the rank of the
guests. At the other the diners were silent and
unsociable, or the conversation, if any, was so
full of 'amercements and feoffments' that a mere
countryman would have thought the people were
"If a gallant entered the ordinary at about halfpast eleven, or even a little earlier, he would find
the room full of fashion-mongers, waiting for the
meat to be served. There are men of all classes:
titled men, who live
cheap that they may
spend more at Court;
stingy men, who want
to save the charges of
house-keeping; courtiers, who come there
for society and news;
adventurers, who have
no home; Templars,
who dine there daily;
and men about town,
who dine at whatever
place is nearest to their
hunger. Lords, citizens, concealed Papists, spies, prodigal
officers, and country
gentlemen, all are here.
Some have come on
foot, some on horseback, and some in
those new caroches the
poets laugh at."
"The well-bred courtier, on entering the
room, saluted those of
his acquaintances who
were in winter gathered round the fire, in summer
round the window, first throwing his cloak to his
page and hanging up his hat and sword. The
parvenu would single out a friend, and walk up and
down uneasily with the scorn and carelessness of a
gentleman usher, laughing rudely and nervously, or
obtruding himself into groups of gentlemen gathered
round a wit or poet. Quarrelsome men pace about
fretfully, fingering their sword-hilts and maintaining
as sour a face as that Puritan moping in a corner,
pent up by a group of young swaggerers, who are
disputing over a card at gleek. Vain men, not
caring whether it was Paul's, the Tennis Court, or
the play-house, published their clothes, and talked
as loud as they could, in order to appear at ease,
and laughed over the Water Poet's last epigram or
the last pamphlet of Marprelate. The soldiers
bragged of nothing but of their employment in
Ireland and the Low Countries—how they helped
Drake to burn St. Domingo, or grave Maurice
to hold out Breda. Tom Coryatt, or such weakpated travellers, would babble of the Rialto and
Prester John, and exhibit specimens of unicorns'
horns or palm-leaves from the river Nilus. The
courtier talked of the fair lady who gave him the
glove which he wore in his hat as a favour; the poet
of the last satire of Marston or Ben Jonson, or
volunteered to read a trifle thrown off of late by
'Faith, a learned gentleman, a very worthy friend,'
though if we were to enquire, this varlet poet might
turn out, after all, to be the mere decoy duck of
the hostess, paid to draw gulls and fools thither.
The mere dullard sat silent, playing with his glove
or discussing at what apothecary's the best tobacco
was to be bought.
DOLLY'S COFFEE-HOUSE (see page 278).
"The dishes seemed to have been served up at
these hot luncheons or early dinners in much the
same order as at the present day—meat, poultry,
game, and pastry. 'To be at your woodcocks'
implied that you had nearly finished dinner. The
more unabashable, rapid adventurer, though but
a beggarly captain, would often attack the capon
while his neighbour, the knight, was still encumbered with his stewed beef; and when the justice of
the peace opposite, who has just pledged him in
sack, is knuckle-deep in the goose, he falls stoutly
on the long-billed game; while at supper, if one
of the college of critics, our gallant praised the last
play or put his approving stamp upon the new poem.
"Primero and a 'pair' of cards followed the wine.
Here the practised player learnt to lose with endurance, and neither to tear the cards nor crush the
dice with his heel. Perhaps the jest may be true,
and that men sometimes played till they sold
even their beards to cram tennis-balls or stuff
cushions. The patron often paid for the wine or
disbursed for the whole dinner. Then the drawer
came round with his wooden knife, and scraped off
the crusts and crumbs, or cleared off the parings
of fruit and cheese into his basket. The torn
cards were thrown into the fire, the guests rose,
rapiers were re-hung, and belts buckled on. The
post news was heard, and the reckonings paid.
The French lackey and Irish footboy led out the
hobby horses, and some rode off to the play, others
to the river-stairs to take a pair of oars to the Surrey
The "Castle," where Tarleton has so often
talked of Shakespeare and his wit, perished in the
Great Fire; but was afterwards rebuilt, and here
"The Castle Society of Music" gave their performances," no doubt aided by many of the St.
Paul's Choir. Part of the old premises were subsequently (says Mr. Timbs) the Oxford Bible Warehouse, destroyed by fire in 1822, and since rebuilt.
"Dolly's Tavern," which stood near the "Castle,"
derived its name from Dolly, an old cook of the
establishment, whose portrait Gainsborough painted.
Bonnell Thornton mentions the beefsteaks and gill
ale at "Dolly's." The coffee-room, with its projecting fire-places, is as old as Queen Anne. The head
of that queen is painted on a window at "Dolly's,"
and the entrance in Queen's Head Passage is
christened from this painting.
The old taverns of London are to be found in
the strangest nooks and corners, hiding away behind shops, or secreting themselves up alleys.
Unlike the Paris café, which delights in the free
sunshine of the boulevard, and displays its harmless revellers to the passers-by, the London tavern
aims at cosiness, quiet, and privacy. It partitions
and curtains-off its guests as if they were conspirators and the wine they drank was forbidden by
the law. Of such taverns the "Chapter" is a good
The "Chapter Coffee House," at the corner of
Chapter House Court, was in the last century
famous for its punch, its pamphlets, and its newspapers. As lawyers and authors frequented the
Fleet Street taverns, so booksellers haunted the
"Chapter." Bonnell Thornton, in the Connoisseur,
Jan., 1754, says:—"The conversation here naturally turns upon the newest publications, but their
criticisms are somewhat singular. When they say
a good book they do not mean to praise the style
or sentiment, but the quick and extensive sale of
it. That book is best which sells most."
In 1770 Chatterton, in one of those apparently
hopeful letters he wrote home while in reality
his proud heart was breaking, says:— "I am quite
familiar at the 'Chapter Coffee House,' and know
all the geniuses there." He desires a friend to
send him whatever he has published, to be left at
the "Chapter." So, again, writing from the King's
Bench, he says a gentleman whom he met at the
"Chapter" had promised to introduce him as a travelling tutor to the young Duke of Northumberland; "but, alas! I spoke no tongue but my own."
Perhaps that very day Chatterton came, half
starved, and listened with eager ears to great
authors talking. Oliver Goldsmith dined there,
with Lloyd, that reckless friend of still more reckless Churchill, and some Grub Street cronies, and
had to pay for the lot, Lloyd having quite forgotten the important fact that he was moneyless.
Goldsmith's favourite seat at the "Chapter" became
a seat of honour, and was pointed out to visitors.
Leather tokens of the coffee-house are still in
Mrs. Gaskell has sketched the "Chapter" in
1848, with its low heavy-beamed ceilings, wainscoted rooms, and its broad, dark, shallow staircase. She describes it as formerly frequented by
university men, country clergymen, and country
booksellers, who, friendless in London, liked to hear
the literary chat. Few persons slept there, and
in a long, low, dingy room up-stairs the periodical
meetings of the trade were held. "The high,
narrow windows looked into the gloomy Row."
Nothing of motion or of change could be seen in
the grim, dark houses opposite, so near and close,
although the whole width of the Row was between.
The mighty roar of London ran round like the
sound of an unseen ocean, yet every footfall on
the pavement below might be heard distinctly in
that unfrequented street.
The frequenters of the "Chapter Coffee House"
(1797—1805) have been carefully described by
Sir Richard Phillips. Alexander Stevens, editor
of the "Annual Biography and Obituary," was
one of the choice spirits who met nightly in the
"Wittinagemot," as it was called, or the north-east corner box in the coffee-room. The neighbours, who dropped in directly the morning papers
arrived, and before they were dried by the waiter,
were called the Wet Paper Club, and another set
intercepted the wet evening papers. Dr. Buchan,
author of that murderous book, "Domestic Medicine," which teaches a man how to kill himself
and family cheaply, generally acted as moderator.
He was a handsome, white-haired man, a Tory,
a good-humoured companion, and a bon vivant.
If any one began to complain, or appear hypochondriacal, he used to say—
"Now let me prescribe for you, without a fee.
Here, John, bring a glass of punch for Mr.—
unless he likes brandy and water better. Now,
take that, sir, and I'll warrant you'll soon be well.
You're a peg too low; you want stimulus; and if
one glass won't do, call for a second."
Dr. Gower, the urbane and able physician of
the Middlesex Hospital, was another frequent
visitor, as also that great eater and worker, Dr.
Fordyce, whose balance no potations could disturb.
Fordyce had fashionable practice, and brought
rare news and much sound information on general
subjects. He came to the "Chapter" from his
wine, stayed about an hour, and sipped a glass of
brandy and water. He then took another glass
at the "London Coffee House," and a third at the
"Oxford," then wound home to his house in Essex
Street, Strand. The three doctors seldom agreed
on medical subjects, and laughed loudly at each
other's theories. They all, however, agreed in
regarding the "Chapter" punch as an infallible
and safe remedy for all ills.
The standing men in the box were Hammond
and Murray. Hammond, a Coventry manufacturer, had scarcely missed an evening at the
"Chapter" for forty-five years. His strictures on the
events of the day were thought severe but able,
and as a friend of liberty he had argued all through
the times of Wilkes and the French and American
wars. His Socratic arguments were very amusing.
Mr. Murray, the great referee of the Wittinagemot,
was a Scotch minister, who generally sat at the
"Chapter" reading papers from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m.
He was known to have read straight through every
morning and evening paper published in London
for thirty years. His memory was so good that he
was always appealed to for dates and matters of
fact, but his mind was not remarkable for general
lucidity. Other friends of Stevens's were Dr.
Birdmore, the Master of the Charterhouse, who
abounded in anecdote; Walker, the rhetorician
and dictionary-maker, a most intelligent man,
with a fine enunciation, and Dr. Towers, a political writer, who over his half-pint of Lisbon grew
sarcastic and lively. Also a grumbling man named
Dobson, who between asthmatic paroxysms vented
his spleen on all sides. Dobson was an author
and paradox-monger, but so devoid of principle
that he was deserted by all his friends, and would
have died from want, if Dr. Garthshore had not
placed him as a patient in an empty fever hospital.
Robinson, "the king of booksellers," and his
sensible brother John were also frequenters of the
"Chapter," as well as Joseph Johnson, the friend
of Priestley, Paine, Cowper, and Fuseli, from
St. Paul's Churchyard. Phillips, the speculative
bookseller, then commencing his Monthly Magazine,
came to the "Chapter" to look out for recruits, and
with his pockets well lined with guineas to enlist
them. He used to describe all the odd characters
at this coffee-house, from the glutton in politics,
who waited at daylight for the morning papers, to
the moping and disconsolate bachelor, who sat
till the fire was raked out by the sleepy waiter at
half-past twelve at night. These strange figures
succeeded each other regularly, like the figures in
a magic lantern.
Alexander Chalmers, editor of many works,
enlivened the Wittinagemot by many sallies of
wit and humour. He took great pains not to be
mistaken for a namesake of his, who, he used to
say, carried "the leaden mace." Other habitués
were the two Parrys, of the Courier and Jacobite
papers, and Captain Skinner, a man of elegant
manners, who represented England in the absurd
procession of all nations, devised by that German
revolutionary fanatic, Anacharsis Clootz, in Paris
in 1793. Baker, an ex-Spitalfields manufacturer,
a great talker and eater, joined the coterie regularly, till he shot himself at his lodgings in Kirby
Street. It was discovered that his only meal
in the day had been the nightly supper at the
"Chapter," at the fixed price of a shilling, with a
supplementary pint of porter. When the shilling
could no longer be found for the supper, he killed
Among other members of these pleasant coteries
were Lowndes, the electrician; Dr. Busby, the
musician; Cooke, the well-bred writer of conversation; and Macfarlane, the author of "The History
of George III.," who was eventually killed by a
blow from the pole of a coach during an election
procession of Sir Francis Burdett at Brentford.
Another celebrity was a young man named Wilson,
called Langton, from his stories of the haut ton.
He ran up a score of £40, and then disappeared,
to the vexation of Mrs. Brown, the landlady, who
would willingly have welcomed him, even though
he never paid, as a means of amusing and detaining
customers. Waithman, the Common Councilman,
was always clear-headed and agreeable. There
was also Mr. Paterson, a long-headed, speculative
North Briton, who had taught Pitt mathematics.
But such coteries are like empires; they have
their rise and their fall. Dr. Buchan died; some
pert young sparks offended the Nestor, Hammond,
who gave up the place, after forty-five years' attendance, and before 1820 the "Chapter" grew silent
The fourth edition of Dr.—ell's "Antient and
Modern Geography," says Nicholls, was published
by an association of respectable booksellers, who
about the year 1719 entered into an especial partnership, for the purpose of printing some expensive
works, and styled themselves "the Printing Conger."
The term "Conger" was supposed to have been
at first applied to them invidiously, alluding to the
conger eel, which is said to swallow the smaller
fry; or it may possibly have been taken from congeries. The "Conger" met at the "Chapter."
The "Chapter" closed as a coffee-house in 1854,
and was altered into a tavern.
One tragic memory, and one alone, as far as we
know, attaches to Paternoster Row. It was here,
in the reign of James I., that Mrs. Anne Turner
lived, at whose house the poisoning of Sir Thomas
Overbury was planned. It was here that Viscount
Rochester met the infamous Countess of Essex;
and it was Overbury's violent opposition to this
shameful intrigue that led to his death from arsenic
and diamond-dust, administered in the Tower by
Weston, a servant of Mrs. Turner's, who received
£180 for his trouble. Rochester and the Countess
were disgraced, but their lives were spared. The
Earl of Northampton, an accomplice of the
countess, died before Overbury succumbed to his
three months of torture.
"Mrs. Turner," says Sir Simonds d'Ewes, had
"first brought up that vain and foolish use of
yellow starch, coming herself to her trial in a yellow
band and cuffs; and therefore, when she was afterwards executed at Tyburn, the hangman had his
band and cuffs of the same colour, which made
many after that day, of either sex, to forbear the
use of that coloured starch, till at last it grew generally to be detested and disused."
In a curious old print of West Chepe, date 1585,
in the vestry-room of St. Vedast's, Foster Lane, we
see St. Michael's, on the north side of Paternoster
Row. It is a plain dull building, with a low
square tower and pointed-headed windows. It was
chiefly remarkable as the burial-place of that indefatigable antiquary, John Leland. This laborious
man, educated at St. Paul's School, was one of
the earliest Greek scholars in England, and one of
the deepest students of Welsh and Saxon. Henry
VIII. made him one of his chaplains, bestowed on
him several benefices, and gave him a roving commission to visit the ruins of England and Wales and
inspect the records of collegiate and cathedral
libraries. He spent six years in this search, and
collected a vast mass of material, then retired
to his house in the parish of St. Michael-le-Quern
to note and arrange his treasures. His mind,
however, broke down under the load: he became
insane, and died in that dreadful darkness of the
soul, 1552. His great work, "The Itinerary of
Great Britain," was not published till after his
death. His large collections relating to London
antiquities were, unfortunately for us, lost. The old
church of "St. Michael ad Bladum," says Strype, "or
'at the Corn' (corruptly called the 'Quern') was so
called because in place thereof was some time a cornmarket, stretching up west to the shambles. It
seemeth that this church was first builded about
the reign of Edward III. Thomas Newton, first
parson there, was buried in the quire, in the year
1361, which was the 35th of Edward III. At the
east end of this church stood an old cross called
the Old Cross in West-cheap, which was taken
down in the 13th Richard II.; since the which time
the said parish church was also taken down, but
new builded and enlarged in the year 1430; the
8th Henry VI., William Eastfield, mayor, and the
commonalty, granting of the common soil of the
City three foot and a half in breadth on the north
part, and four foot in breadth towards the east, for
the inlarging thereof. This church was repaired,
and with all things either for use or beauty, richly
supplied and furnished, at the sole cost and charge
of the parishioners, in 1617. This church was
burnt down in the Great Fire, and remains unbuilt,
and laid into the street, but the conduit which was
formerly at the east end of the church still remains.
The parish is united to St. Vedast, Foster Lane.
At the east end of this church, in place of the old
cross, is now a water-conduit placed. William
Eastfield, maior, the 9th Henry VI., at the request
of divers common councels, granted it so to be.
Whereupon, in the 19th of the said Henry, 1,000
marks was granted by a common councel towards
the works of this conduit, and the reparation of
others. This is called the Little Conduit in West
Cheap, by Paul's Gate. At the west end of this
parish church is a small passage for people on foot,
thorow the same church; and west from the same
church, some distance, is another passage out of
Paternoster Row, and is called (of such a sign)
Panyer Alley, which cometh out into the north,
over against St. Martin's Lane.
'When you have sought the city round,
Yet still this is the highest ground.
August 27, 1688.'
This is writ upon a stone raised, about the middle
of this Panier Alley, having the figure of a panier,
with a boy sitting upon it, with a bunch of grapes,
as it seems to be, held between his naked foot
and hand, in token, perhaps, of plenty."
At the end of a somewhat long Latin epitaph
to Marcus Erington in this church occurred the
"Vita bonos, sed pœna malos, æterna capessit,
Vitæ bonis, sed pœna malis, per secula crescit.
His mors, his vita, perpetuatur ita."
John Bankes, mercer and squire, who was interred
here, had a long epitaph, adorned with the following
"Imbalmed in pious arts, wrapt in a shroud
Of white, innocuous charity, who vowed,
Having enough, the world should understand
No need of money might escape his hand;
Bankes here is laid asleepe—this place did breed him—
A precedent to all that shall succeed him.
Note both his life and immitable end;
Not he th' unrighteous mammon made his friend;
Expressing by his talents' rich increase
Service that gain'd him praise and lasting peace.
Much was to him committed, much he gave,
Ent'ring his treasure there whence all shall have
Returne with use: what to the poore is given
Claims a just promise of reward in heaven.
Even such a banke Bankes left behind at last,
Riches stor'd up, which age nor time can waste."
On part of the site of the church of this parish,
after the fire of London in 1666, was erected a
conduit for supplying the neighbourhood with
water; but the same being found unnecessary, it
was, with others, pulled down anno 1727.