A MEDIEVAL POTPOURRI

‘Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?’
‘Tis brief, my lord’ *

This beauty is reputed to have been given by John of Gaunt (1340-1399) to his mistress and subsequent third wife, Katheryn Swinford (1350-1403).  The inscription reads ‘alas for fayte’ which was probably a nod to Gaunt and Katherine’s illicit love affair.  

Medieval Posy rings!  What a delight they are and how I have longed to own one but the bank balance say No and unless I dig one up in my garden that is likely to remain the case.   Posy, or poesy rings,  took their name from the old French word poésy which alluded to the short poetic  engraving – usually  inside the ring but sometimes on the outside –  and which worn next to the skin would only be known to the giver and recipient. Popular from medieval  to the 17th century I am focussing here on the earlier medieval ones.  How nice to think that in those times when, broadly speaking,  only the lower classes were  able to wed someone of their own choice –  betrothed couples, who were often marrying the partner of their parents choice or even older couples where the status of their spouse was paramount –  were often going into marriage with feelings of affection or that love grew later.  Anyway its all extremely romantic and whats not to like?    However to  return to the ring said to have belonged to Katherine Swynford, Duchess of Lancaster.

The engraving, worn next to the skin and therefore only known to the giver and recipient, reads ‘alas for fayte’

Katherine Swynford,  Duchess of Lancaster’s posy ring.  All photos thanks to Berganza Jewellers who sold the ring to a private buyer. 

Described as being set centrally with a cabonchon sapphire,  the sprays of flowers were originally enhanced with enamel.  C.1360-1400 with documentation relating to the provenance of the ring.  

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A recently discovered posy ring found by a metal detectorist in Dorset:

Described as two intertwining gold bands symbolising two lives joined together.  Set with a diamond in the centre and the inscription in French ‘leo vos tien foi tenes le moy’ which translates as ‘I keep faith with you, keep it with me’. 

After its discovery, the ring was sent to the British Museum to be dated and authenticated.   Experts who researched the ring were able to identify the man who had owned the land where it was found – Sir Thomas Brook – and have gone on to speculate that he may have given this valuable ring to his wife,  Joan,  on the occasion of their wedding day in 1388.   The ring was found in an area covering the site of a medieval bowling alley and possibly Lady Joan may have lost the ring while playing an early form of croquet.  Who knows?  It’s a charming story though and has a ring of truth about it (did you see what I just did there!).   Anyway – it’s easy to image the lady’s horror, whoever she was, when she realised her beautiful ring was missing and mourning its loss long afterwards.

             ******Gold band.  Early 15th century. Engraved on the outside my.wordely.ioye+alle.my.trust on the interior +hert.tought.lyfe.and.lust.   Victoria and Albert Museum.

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Made c.1250-1300.   Set with a polished cabochon sapphire.  Engraved around the edges with the words AVE MARIA GRA[CIA],AMOR VINCI[T] O[M]NIA – Translates as Hail Mary.  Love Conquers all/Love overcomes all things.  Given to the Victoria and Albert Museum by Dame Joan Evans.

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Mid 15th century.  Gold set with a spinel.  Inscribed on the outside ‘pour amor, say douc’, meaning ‘for love, so sweet’. This ring was found on the Thames foreshore at Bankside.  Now in the Museum of London.

This ring was discovered by a metal detectorist on the 19^th April 2015 in a field nearby to the village of Green Hammerton in North Yorkshire. Double bezel mounted with a cabochon ruby and emerald.  Photo Warski. 

English 15th Century. Engraved in Norman French ‘ne meur bon’  followed by an image of a heart which translates as ‘a good heart never dies’. The ring was declared treasure under the terms of the Treasure Act (1996) and local museums were given the chance to buy it from the finder. However sadly none of the museums were able to raise the funds and it was sold privately.

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Gold and inscribed on the outside with the words ‘tout pour vous’ which translates as ‘all for you’ and  sprays of flowers that were once enamelled.  Made in the 15th century and discovered near Thame, Oxfordshire

Not a posy ring but an early finger ring dating from c1400. Found by a metal detectorist in the area of Bolnhurst and Keysoe (Bedfordshire) in 2013.  Ashmolean Museum, Oxford.

Now I know, I know  –  this is not a true posy ring but I’m sneaking it in as its far, far too lovely not to.  Dating from around the time of  the reign of Richard II the ring would have been set off by the sumptuous fashions of the times. Two pearls of the original four pearls  are missing but the pomegranate-red garnet is still intact.

Now here is the little hidden detail that has given me cause to include it although of course its not an engraving as such  – the letters A and M are artfully included beneath the decorated shoulder of the ring….

The collet is supported by two gold, openwork letters – A and M – underneath the decorated shoulders of the ring – as the invocation of Ave Maria  (Hail Mary).   How sumptuous is that! Perhaps my favourite of all the rings I’ve come across in my search for posy rings…

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Apologies for the quality of this photo.  I’ve included it because of the poignancy behind it.  Discovered  by archaeologists from MoLA during the excavations at St Mary Spital the outside of this ring is engraved with the words ‘[Je] ne weil aymer autre vous’ (I am not seeking to love anyone but you). 

St. Mary Spital Augustinian Priory and Hospital was founded in II97 and was the second largest infirmary in London covering the area known today as Spital Square.  It stood for over 400 years until it was demolished in 1540.  It had two infirmaries the smallest one of which was for higher status patiences.  It was in the rubble of one of these infirmaries that this ring was found after being lost  presumably by one of the patients whose story is lost to us now.

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This gold ring is very small and  thought to have been made for a child.  Dated to the mid to late 15th Century.  Now in the London Museum.

This small ring measures just 17 mm across.   The size indicates it was a child’s ring and possibly for a betrothal.  Decorated with engraved leaves which originally  had alternating black and white enamelling.  Interior of the ring inscribed with the words ‘nul autre’ (none other). 

I hope you have enjoyed our little meander into medieval posy rings – and now  I shall return to digging my garden….

*Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 2.  William Shakespeare.

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ANOTHER PRECIOUS FIND TO ADD TO THE MIDDLEHAM JEWEL AND RING..

CROSSRAIL – A PORTAL INTO MEDIEVAL LONDON

JOHN HOWARD, DUKE OF NORFOLK – HIS WEDDING GIFTS TO MARGARET CHEDWORTH

The Abbey of the Minoresses of St Clare without Aldgate and the Ladies of the Minories

THE ANCIENT GATES OF OLD LONDON

Murder and mayhem in medieval London

AUSTIN FRIARS: LAST RESTING PLACE OF PERKIN WARBECK

Revolting Remedies from the Middle Ages. Edited by Professor Daniel Wakelin.  Published by the Bodleian Library Oxford.

Under the Dreaming Spires of Oxford – well Oxford University to be precise – a group of students have compiled and transcribed this entertaining selection of remedies from  medieval manuscripts in the Bodleian Library  Here in their book – Revolting Remedies from the Middle Ages, edited by Professor Daniel Wakelin,  the remedies are reproduced with one page in the original Middle English and a translation on the facing page in  modern English (1).  Make no mistake about it, this little book is a delight, and if it doesn’t raise a chuckle even on the most glummest of days then nothing will.  It should be remembered the remedies in the book have been chosen for their sheer wackiness. This places them apart from the numerous other more sensible, mundane remedies that medieval people used,  perhaps if they could not afford a doctor,  but which in some cases, would have been a better and safer option, with many of the ingredients such as verbena and fennel still used in the herbal supplements used today.  However, returning to the book, not all of the remedies included therein were for nasty diseases or debilitating illnesses but cover a wide spectrum of conditions ranging from a Leaky Bottom/For goyng out of the foundement  to those who had an annoying abundance of zits –  or zitties to be precise  –  or even unwelcome freckles/frekenes –  to those who wished, understandably,  to stop dogs barking at them.  There was also solutions for those who were uncomfortable with people staring at them such as making yourself disappear.  Worryingly a remedy for returning oneself back to visibility was not included.  Perhaps the invisibility wore off gradually in its own good time? Great fun but not without its risks.

The students who took part in Professor Wakelin’s course, which teaches people to read manuscripts from the seventh to the sixteenth centuries ‘tested their research skills on these medical manuscripts: the handwriting and the medical terms are a challenge. But having sat in the library pained by this work, they came back cured by laughter at the rude or remarkable remedies they found. They hope, now that they’ve transcribed and translated them, that you will enjoy them too’(2). Well I for one thoroughly enjoyed them and heartily recommend this charming little book. Below is just a sample of the delights therein. For clarity it should be noted the illustrations are not included in the book.

A  scribe busy at his work.  BL.Royal I 8III, f.24 the British library

For goying out of the foundement/For a Leaky Bottom

Tak henne egges and seth tham in vynegre, and mell it with oyle of lorellmes and sett thin ars theron oft times, till it be hole.  Another: Tak poudre of herte horne and cast to thin ars.  Another: Tak frankencence and seth it in water, and wesche the sore therwith, and late the breth go vp in to the foundement.

Take hens eggs and boil them in vinegar, and mix it with  oil of laurels, and sit your arse in it many times until it’s healed. Another. Take powder of a hart’s horn and put it up your arse.  Another take frankincense and boil it in water, and wash the sore with it and let the steam from it go up your bottom.

To save one from sword or gone ore any wepen/To protect yourself from a sword, gun or any other weapon

Write thes words and letters in virgin parchment and carri them aboute you : ff velle tofetis achætum + zadit   + tizadit + zadan abi atit + zadne et = æd b + abiat + + + b x in + d + + h + z + o + eliam + l + ff + m + P + v + j.  Yf you be in dought of thes, prove it apon a dogge which is all rede.

Write these words and letters on blank parchment and carry them around with you: ff velle tofetis achætum + zadit   + tizadit + zadan abi atit + zadne et = æd b + abiat + + + b x in + d + + h + z + o + eliam + l + ff + m + P + v + j. If you doubt this will work test on a dog which is completely red.

This poor gentleman obviously did not have the necessary paperwork with him on the very day he needed it the most….

However in the eventuality that the above did not have the desired effect and one found oneself badly bashed up – although still alive – help was still available:

For a man that is sore ybete/ For a man who’s been painfully beaten

Tak weyhore and boyle it in good feyn ale, and drynk it ferst a morwe and last an evene; and make hym a bed in hot horse dongge, and ley hym therinne.

Take cudweed and boil it in fine ale, and drink it first thing in the morning and last thing at night, and make the patient a bed in a pile of steaming horse dung, and lay him in it.

The remains of one unfortunate who did not survive the horse dung treatment being examined by 21st century archaeologists.  With apologies to the Museum of London (MOLA).

For swellynge of ballokys/For swollen bollocks

Take bene mele and vyngre, and tempere hem well togidere and make a plaster thereof, and ley therto, but lete it come a ny no feer,  for it mote be colde.  And if thu have gret benys, stampe hem and tempere hem with hony, and make a plaster, and ley to the sore al colde.  Also take rewe and wermode, stampe hem in a morter, and temper hem togidere with hony, and make a colde plaster, and ley therto.  

Take ground beans and vinegar, and blend them well together, and make a plaster from it, and lay it on the swelling,  but never let it get close to the fire because it must be cold. And if you have large beans, grind them and blend them with honey, and make a plaster and lay it on the sore all cold. Also, take rue and wormwood, grind them in a mortar and blend them well together and make a cold plaster and lay that on the swelling..

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Medieval manuscript illustrations of gentlemen with swollen bits being a slight tad too explicit for this blog, here, instead, is a depiction of a man with earache.  Hopefully this will suffice……..

Treatment for earache.  Artwork from the late 13th-century French work ‘Li Livres dou Sante’.

For love/For love

Take thi swetyng yn a fayre bason and clene and afterwarde put hyt yn a wytrial of glas, and put therto the shavyng of the nedder party of thy fete and a lytyl of thy oune dong ydryet at the sune, and put therto a more of valurion.  And take to drynke, whane that ever ye will, and he schall love the apon the lyght of thyn yene.  And thys ys best experiment to gete love of what creature that thou wolt.  And Y, Gelberte, have ypreved that ofte tymys, for trewthe.

Catch your sweat in a nice clean basin and afterwards mix it with sulphuric salt, and add to it some shavings from the back of your feet and a little of your own dung dried in the sun, and add a root of the herb valerian. And take a swig whenever you want, and he will love you as soon as he catches your eye. This is the best proven method to win love from whomever you want.  And I, Gilbert, have proved this many times in truth

Gibert gets lucky yet again…  ‘Tender Embrace’ artist Master of Guillebert de Mets c.1425.  Flanders. Walters Art Museum.

Medicine for a man that is costyf/Medicine for a man who is constipated.

Tak and roste oynones, and ley to his navele, ymenged with may botre, and make hym wortes of hockes and stanmarche, percilie of violet; and gyf hym ete therwith sour bred, and drynke smal ale; and gyf hym a subposotorie of a talwe candele in hys fundement.  And so use it, for thou be hol. 

 Take and roast onions, and lay them on his navel, mixed with unsalted butter, and make him a vegetable stew made of mallow plants, horse parsley and parsley of violet, and give them to him to eat with sour bread, and give him light ale to drink, and give him as a suppository a tallow candle up his bottom. And do all this, so that you get better

To mak a man to pyse wele/To make a man piss well.

Take him and set hym in a vat nakyd, and close hym upe to the hede drafe, as it comyth fro the ale, the space of an owre.  Than wache hym in hoot water, and brynge hym to bede, tyl he have wel slepte.  

Take him, and put him naked in a vat, and cover him up to the head in new dregs that have come from brewing the ale, for an hour long. Then wash him in hot water, and put him to bed until he’s slept well.

Another maner medicyne to make heer to growe/ Another kind of medicine to make hair grow

Take ladanum, and disolve it in puryd hony; and take an herbe that hatte capillus verginis (that is to say mayden heer) and stampe hym in a morter of bras, and hony therwith.  And when it is smale inowghe, wryng it thurw a canevas, and put therto the ladanum, and set it on the fyre, and lete it boyle or velme but onys, and set it doun and let it kele.  This wil make heere grewe ovyr alle.

Take the resin of the citrus bush and dissolve it in purified honey, and take a herb called capillus virginis (that is Maidenhair fern) and grind it in a mortar made of brass, with honey in it.  And when it’s ground down finely enough strain it through canvas, and add the resin and set it on the fire, let it boil or bubble over only once, then take it off the fire and let it cool. This will make hair grow everywhere

Beehives. Tacuinum Sanitatis  (14th century)

For the emerawdys/For haemorrhoids

Take botyr and talwghe, bote claryfied, and white oyle and alum icalcit, of all ylyche moche.  Sette hem in a panne over a leuke fyre, til they been resolvyd.  Than sette it doun and stere it, til it be colde.  Anoynte hym that hath the emerawdys wyth this oynement, as far wythine the fundement as thou mayst, and then take a rostid oynoun and, as hoot as he may suffre, bynde it to his fundement.  Serve hym thus ofte and he schal be hole.

Take butter and animal fat, both purified, and white oil and a reduction of alum salt, the same amount of each. Set them in a pan over a lukewarm fire, until they’re liquefied. Then take it off the fire and stir it, until it’s cold. Anoint the man who has the haemorrhoids with this ointment, as deep inside his bottom as you can, and then take a roasted onion and, as hot as he can bear, bind it to his bottom. Treat him like this often and he’ll soon get better.

For bledyng at the nose/For a nosebleed.

Yif a man blede at the nose, take and ley his ballokkys in vinegre; and take a clowte and wete it wel in vynegre, and than wete wel the place bytwene his browys and al his forhed.  And if it be a woman, take and ley hir brestys in vinegre.  And it schall staunche anoone ryght.  

If a man is bleeding from his nose, grasp his bollocks and lay them in vinegar, and take a cloth and douse it well in vinegar, and then wet the spot between his eyebrows and all his forehead. And if it’s a woman, grasp her breasts and leave them in vinegar, and the nosebleed will stop right away

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I hope you have enjoyed these delightful, if rather earthy, examples of our ancestors remedies for their, sometimes,  embarrassing medical problems.  As Professor Wakelin points out the remedies also leave us with an insight into the ‘ingenuity and bravery of the men and women of the Middle Ages’ who paved the way for today’s medications and herbal treatments that we sometimes take for granted.  Bravo and we salute you!

Two women exchange a remedy.  Le Régime de Corps c.1265.  British Library MS Sloane 2435

1. Daniel Wakelin is the  Jeremy Griffiths Professor of Medieval English Palaeography in the Faculty of English, University of Oxford.
2. Revolting Remedies from the Middle Ages. p.11. Ed.Prof. Daniel Wakelin. Bodleian Library.

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The Cheapside Hoard.  Discovered beneath the floor of an ancient cellar during the demolition of 30-32 Cheapside in 1912. How the owners of such jewels must have shimmered in the candlelight.  Photo 1websurfer@Flikr.

The Cheapside Hoard as it has become known was discovered in June 1912 at 30-32 Cheapside when workmen were demolishing a trio of 17th century post-Great Fire of London houses.  The cellars of the original medieval houses destroyed in that fire of 1666 had survived the conflagration and it was somewhere from beneath their floors that the Hoard was recovered.   Although the exact spot is now lost to us newspaper reports of the time recorded that the cellar was 16 foot below street level.  This would accord with modern archaeological findings which have uncovered other footings and remains of other similar brick lines structures at the same depth.  Also unknown is what type of receptacles were used, if any,  to bury the Hoard in.   I will return to this later but for now let’s take a little look at Cheapside itself. From early medieval times Cheapside was famous for its mercers, goldsmiths and jewellers  (the terms jeweller and goldsmith were largely interchangeable in those times and sometimes both terms were applied to the same person in the same documents) who sold their sumptuous wares there.   Known as early as 1067 as Westceape  (to differentiate it from Eastcheap, the market at the east end of the city) and the Chepe of London in 1257,  it was undoubtedly  one of the glories of old London, wide enough for a market – from which it first got its name – to be held in the middle of it as well as joustings (1),

30-32 Cheapside was situated on the corner where it joined Friday Street and was owned by the Worshipful Company of Goldsmiths whose ownership it had been in for centuries.  In the 15th century Thomas Wood, a goldsmith who was also a Sheriff of London at one time, had there built a large timber framed structure, four stories high,  which he would later give to the Goldsmiths Company in 1491.  Comprising of 10 houses and 14 shops,  Stow  in 1598,  was to describe this structure as ‘the most beautiful frame of fair houses and shops in England’.  This structure became known as Goldsmiths Row.  Later on further houses and shops would spring up along that area of Cheapside which would eventually become generally known as Goldsmiths Row.  It was somewhere in this area that our goldsmith plied his trade.  Behind the handsome facades would spring up numerous workshops, vaults,  countinghouses,  gilding chambers, storerooms as well as living accommodation (2).  No doubt this led to a lot of coming and goings, old tenants and new tenants etc.,  Unsurprisingly all was not always harmonious with squabbles breaking out which sometimes caused the Goldsmiths Company  itself to get involved and arbitrate.   One example is when one tenant,  George Lansdale,   caused other tenants to complain  when he set up a furnace in his cellar which  ‘he doth verie dangerouslie mainteyne  and work’.  It transpired that George had tunnelled  through his privy  walls  to vent the smoke into the street so that noxious fumes wafted through the adjourning properties ‘ to his neighbours great disquiet of mind’.  When George refused to remove the furnace he was henceforth hauled off to prison.  Another situation which caused great indignation arose when John Hawes took  sneaky advantage of his neighbour Edward Wheeler‘s absence in the country to break down the wall between them.  He then extended his own property by a few inches but worse still exposed parts of Wheeler’s  study ‘wherein were  divers writings’ and other personal papers.   This was just not on and  Officers from the Company  inspected the damage.  Hawes had to pay Wheeler 20 shillings in reparation (3). 

The properties we are interested  had five stories with garrets at the top and cellars running beneath them.   Over time they had become multi tenanted with rooms divided into smaller rooms and shops so it is now impossible to know which tenant,  subtenant  or even sub-subtenant was responsible for the burying of the Hoard.   It’s all rather mysterious however the most popular theory seems to be that it was buried by our unknown goldsmith prior to making an escape before the Great Fire of London reached  the wooden façade of his home and workplace.   However as the fire did not wreak its terrible destruction on Cheapside until its third day, Wednesday 5 September,  it’s puzzling why our most certainly usually astute goldsmith did not make his escape with his stock well before then.  Indeed most of the Cheapside goldsmiths having sufficient warning had already stored their valuables in the Tower of London and ‘thanks to this wise precaution their individual losses were insignificant compared with those of other tradesmen’ (4).  Could the burying of the Hoard have occurred in 1665 when the Great Plague cut its deadly swathe across London and Londoners left in droves if able to do so?   But this scenario also begs the question why was the valuable stock not taken when the owner made his escape if he indeed did.  Was he one of the casualties of that terrible pestilance?    Perhaps there was some sort of skulduggery involved.  Robbery, even murder?   Frustratingly we will never know and presumably the person who buried it died quite soon after having done so.

The Discovery.

George Fabian Lawrence aka Stony Jack in his office at Wandsworth. 

Now enters our story – drumroll! – a gentleman by the name of George Fabian Lawrence aka Stony Jack (1862-1939).  Mr Lawrence had a multifacited career as a pawnbroker, dealer, collector of antiquities and sometime employee of both the Guildhall and London Museum (5).    He had struck up an understanding and rapport  with the labourers who were regularly employed in the demolition of the buildings of old London.  They became aware that if they handed anything over of interest to him they would be rewarded.  Often to be found wandering around building sites Mr Lawrence would later say that “ I got to know a lot of navvies.  I thought what a lot of stuff was being lost because they did not know what to look for.  I decided to try to teach them.  I taught them that every scrap of metal, pottery, glass, or leather that has been lying under London may have a story to tell the archaeologist, and is worth saving.  They were apt pupils and hardly a Saturday passed without someone bringing me something.   I got 15,000 objects out of the soil of London in 15 years for the London museum alone.’ (6).   

In turn the navvies would duly pass on the word that the ‘bloke at Wandsworth who buys old stones and bits of pottery. Got a little shop full of them.   He’s a good sport is Stony Jack. If you dig up an old pot or a coin and take it to him, he’ll tell you what it is and buy it off you.  And if you take him rubbish, he’ll still give you the price of half a pint’.  

Even though accustomed as Mr Lawrence was to navvies bringing  him interesting finds he must have thought all his Christmas’ had arrived at once the day the first navvy rocked up at his door bearing a sackful of treasures unearthed from beneath the cellar at  30-32 Cheapside.  One of the navvies made the comment ‘We’ve struck a toy shop I thinks guv’nor!‘ when he unloaded his brightly coloured finds still encased in clods of earth.   In the following days other navvies would turn up, their pockets or even hats full of treasures until the amount of their finds accumulated to almost 500 pieces – all now piled up in Mr Lawrence’s office.  While nearly all the discoveries were taken to Mr Lawrence its clear that  a small amount was sold to other purchasers and it was said some navvies disappeared for long periods being able to live off the rewards they had received when they sold their findings elsewhere.  Casting that thought aside though and on with story –  Mr Lawrence wished to hand on the Hoard to a new and at that time,  still unopened museum, which was then taking shape.  This was the London Museum.  Excited phone calls took place and the Hoard was taken to the home of the Director  of the embryonic museum, Mr Lewis Harcourt later Viscount Harcourt,  in Berkeley Square.   A  silence then followed on the Hoard  for the next two years until the opening of the London Museum.   However, cutting to the chase, following both the British Museum and  Victoria and Albert Museum catching  wind of the Hoard there then ensued what can only be called an rather unseemly tug of war.  To pour oil on troubled waters some items from the hoard were given to the British Museum.  This understandably left the Victoria and Albert Museum feeling slightly miffed leading to a flurry of disgruntled memos to the Treasury asking if the treasure had been dealt with in the correct way. i.e. as treasure trove.  However by then the Hoard had slipped through the Treasury’s net and would remain where it was i.e the greater part of it in the London Museum.  Some 80 items were given to the City Guildhall Museum but in the passage of time both the Guild and the Museum of London were to unite and the bulk of the hoard  was once again under the same roof.

The Hoard Itself.

Here is just a small selection  from the fabulous treasures in the Hoard.

Scent bottle – enamelled gold, opals, opaline chalcedony, diamonds, rubies and pink sapphires.  

Fan handle.  Suspension loop to attach to a belt. Photo Museum of London

Fan handle: Columbian emeralds and white enamel.  Feathers  could be held in the flared opening while a loop allowed the fan to be attached to a belt.   Museum of London; photo by Robert Weldon/GIA

Gold wirework pendant decorated with enamel and pearls which would be stitched onto the edges of garment. Several of these were included in the hoard.  

Two of the numerous buttons in the hoard.  This one cloisonné enamel. The one above gold with rubies.  Museum of London; photo by Robert Weldon/GIA

Thought to be one of  the most valuable items in the Hoare – the emerald cased watch.

Pin with the head in the shape of a ship the hull formed from a large baroque Pearl.  Shaft modern.Photo Museum of London. 

A pendant of emerald and enamelled gold in the form of a grapevine.

The stunning Salamander broach.  Columbian emeralds,  Indian diamonds and white enamelled legs.  

Three examples of the numerous rings in the hoard. The top one with a superb diamond. 

A bodkin.  One of three in the Hoard.  This one gold and turquoise in the shape of a shepherd’s crook.    To pin a coil of hair in place.  Photo Museum of London.

Sapphire Pendant.  Possibly for wearing in the hair.  

The charming parrot or popinjay cameo.  Carved from Columbian emerald.  Popinjays,  as parrots were then  more commonly known.  were popular pets since medieval times.  Henry VII was known to be particularly fond of them but I digress…

At the time of writing anyone travelling to the Museum of London to view the Hoard will be unlucky as it is not on display for the time being.   However a purpose-built gallery for permanent display of the Hoard is planned for the Museum’s new home in West Smithfield which is scheduled to open in 2024.

I have drawn heavily for this post from Hazel Forsyth’s excellent book The Cheapside Hoard, London’s lost Jewels, Museum of London’s informative website and the beautiful photography of Robert Weldon/GIA.  Many thanks.  

1.  A London Dictionary of London p.186.  Henry A Harben 1912.
2. The Cheapside Hoard,  London’s Lost Jewels p.22. Hazel Forsyth.
3. The Cheapside Hoard:  London’s Lost Jewels p.24. Hazel Forsyth.
4. The Great Fire of London p.64. Walter G Bell.
5. The Cheapside Hoard,  London’s Lost Jewels p.45 Hazel Forsyth
6.  Daily Express 27 June 1928.

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The façade of Sir Paul Pindar’s house in Bishopgate.  Now in the Victoria and Albert Museum.  Photo Victoria and Albert Museum Collection

Sir Paul Pindar acquired the site in what was then known as  Bishopsgate Street Without in 1597 and begun building the house, later known as Pindar’s House,  shortly afterward at the corner of Half Moon Street then known as Half Moon Alley (1).     Bishopsgate standing just outside the city walls meant the house managed  to survive the Great Fire of London as well as a further disastrous fire in 1765 when many of the other fine timber buildings were destroyed.     After Sir Paul’s death the house morphed into a tavern called ‘Pindar’s Head’.   Sadly it was unable to  survive awful neglect nor the march of progress I’m afraid to say.  In 1890 it was demolished to make room for an enlargement of Liverpool Street Station.    Over the centuries prior to the demolition the ground floor had been much altered but the upper two stories of  the façade remained much in their original state and it was this wonderful frontage which  was presented to the Victoria and Albert Museum, London where it remains today.  From this small surviver of what had once been a grand mansion we able to to catch a glimpse of how splendid the old  buildings of the well to do were in Old London.  On the first floor behind the projecting window lay a large reception  room with fine moulded plaster ceilings, an elaborate chimneypiece and oak panelling.

Stype’s map of Bishopsgate in 1720.  Sir Paul Pindar’s house is arrowed and stands on the corner of  Half Moon Street known as Half Moon Alley in Sir Paul’s time.  

Photo c.1890 showing the house when it was a tavern known as the Sir Paul Pindar. The entrance to Half Moon Street formerly Half Moon Allen can be seen to the right.

First floor exterior.  Photo Victoria and Albert Collections. Still with glass although this has sadly been removed as it was not contemporaneous with the rest of the façade  Personally I think this was a bad move as with the glass, which was still very old, there was a much better impression of how the house looked in its heyday.  Still I am not an expert. 

Close up of first floor façade.

Second floor of the house.  Glass removed.

THE MAN HIMSELF.

Sir Paul Pindar c.1565–1650 was a successful and very wealthy merchant and diplomat  who would go on to be Ambassador to Constantinople – now Istanbul.  Born in Wellingborough, Northamptonshire, he was the second son of Thomas Pindar of that town and it was the initial intention that he would go to university.  However the young Pindar chose to go down the mercantile route and he became  apprenticed aged 16  to Mr Parvish an Italian merchant.   Paul, who must have made a good impression of himself on his master,  would find himself sent to Venice as his master’s representative where he stayed for the next 15 years.  While there he used his time wisely, prospering and gaining useful knowledge of Italian banking systems.  Robert Ashton, Sir Paul Pindar’s biographer tells us:  ‘this bore fruit in the later years of James I’s reign in Pindar’s interesting, though disregarded, proposal for the establishment of an English national bank which would benefit the crown by furnishing ‘exacte knowledge of the trewe estate of everye perticular man, by meanes wherof dewties might be Imposed proportionable to the effectuall valliditie of mens trewe Estates’ While this consideration alone might account for the failure of such proposals to attract the English mercantile community—at least before 1694—even more significant was Pindar’s suggestion that deposits in the bank would provide a potential source of loanable funds ‘uppon which his Majestie may prevayell at pleazure eyther by Consente or withoute the privitie of the Propryetaryes at all tymes’ (2). 

During his stint as English Ambassador,  which begun about 1611,  he was knighted while on a visit to England in 1620 by James Ist.  He was by this time wealthy enough to have ‘purchased a diamond from Turkey valued at £30,000 which he sold on to James Ist on credit to wear at divers times on days of great solemnity’.   The diamond was next sold to Charles Ist by whom  it was transmitted into funds for securing the safety of  Queen Henrietta Maria and her children during the Civil War (3).   Sir Paul  would finally return to live permanently in England in 1623 after which he would invest much of his wealth into the management of custom farms.   His wealth allowed him to make generous financial gifts including £10,000 towards the rebuilding of St Paul’s Cathedral.  He has been described as an ardent royalist making  massive personal loans to both James Ist and Charles Ist, particularly to the latter in 1638–9 ‘when he advanced in all about £93,000, £8000 of which was for a large pendant diamond for the king in May 1638. ‘This Sir Paul,  observed Sir Edmund Rossingham, ‘never fails the King when he has most need‘.    However Charles’ downfall and execution in 1649 meant that his debts to Sir Paul were never repaid.  This would sadly leave Sir Paul, at the very end of his long life,  with massive debts when he died aged 85 on the 22 August 1650.  He would be buried  on 3 September in his parish church,  St Botolph without Bishopsgate, to which  he had been a generous benefactor.   This church was demolished in 1729 but we do know  his epitaph read he was ‘faithful in negotiation, foreign and domestick, eminent for piety charity, loyalty and prudence’.   He had never married and in his will dated 24 June 1646 he left one-third of his estate to the children of his nephew who had predeceased him, and another third to his executor and kinsman, William Toomes. Tragically in 1655 William Toomes  ‘took his own life after failing to satisfy Pindar’s debts and legacies since, of the £236,000 at which Pindar’s estate had been valued in 1639, desperate debts now preponderated.  Also largely irrecoverable was the final third of the estate, consisting of miscellaneous legacies to friends and relatives (4). 

Although the final months  of Sir Paul likely were troubled with money worries as the reality of not being able to pay his debts kicked in,  I would like to think that he was still in his fine house, looked after and supported by loyal friends.  For he was a kind man and perhaps his only fault was to be too trusting and loyal to people who were not worthy of neither..

1.  A London Dictionary p.476 Harben H A Harben. 1912.
2. Pindar, Sir Paul (1565/6–1650) Robert Ashton.  Oxford DNB 3 January 2008. See also BL, Lansdowne MS 108, art. 90.
3. Medieval Houses in St Giles Cripplegate and St Botolph Bishopsgate.  Rosemary Weinstein. London Topographical Society Journalol. Vol.XXV 1985. 
4. Pindar, Sir Paul (1565/6–1650). Robert Ashton.  Oxford DNB 3 January 2008

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Gainsborough Old Hall.  Photo thanks to Graham Oxford Photography Street.

Sir Thomas Burgh was the builder  of Gainsborough Hall, as seen today,  after inheriting the original building in 1455 on the death of his mother Elizabeth Percy,  when he was 24 years old.  The building and enhancement, which took place over the course of  20 years, was enabled by  Thomas becoming a very wealthy man ‘through the force of his personality,  sage advice (he was counsellor to three monarchs),  administrative and business acumen and skill in serving four kings in turn – Lancastrian, Yorkist and Tudor to become the leading magnet in the country (1)   Thomas clearly was one of those adept and charming characters who can both run with the hounds and play with the foxes being awarded lands by Henry VI but later to become and remain one of Edward IV’s favourites. He was appointed Constable of Lincoln and Bolingbroke castles in 1461 – both traditionally Lancastrian prizes –  made an esquire of the king’s body on 2 April 1461 four days after the battle of Towton,  which meant of course he would wait personally on the king in his private chambers,  knighted by February 1463, and was  Master of the Kings Horse by February 1464.    He consolidated the authority of the new dynasty in and around Lincolnshire as Hastings and Herbert where doing in the Midlands and Wales and was similarly rewarded as they were with lands and offices (2). But in those turbulent  times trouble was never far away, and Thomas’ rise and rise had caused resentment, jealousy and anger – then as now one man’s gain could well be another man’s loss.    In late 1469 trouble was brewing in Lincolnshire and this instability was exploited by members of the Welles family led by Richard, Lord Welles,  his son Robert and his brothers-in-law,   Sir Thomas de la Launde  and Sir Thomas Dymmock,  who to settle a private feud went full tonto when they attacked and sacked the Hall.   The Warkworth Chronicle reported ‘the Lorde Willowby,  the Lorde Welles his son,  Thomas Delalond  knyght, and Sere Thomas Dymmoke knyght,  the Kynges  Champyon,  droff oute of Lyncolneschyre  Sere Thomas à Burghe,  a knyght  of the Kynges howse and pullede downe his place and toke all his goodes and cataylle that thei myght find’ (3).  Warkworth may have over egged the pudding slightly with the remark ‘pullede downe his place’ -as pointed out by Nicholas Bennett  – as much of the surviving structure of the Hall predates 1469.  However Emery points out that while it’s possible parts of the Hall were unaffected by the attack  the west range was indeed so damaged that it had to be rebuilt in 1479 (4). Certainly the attack and sacking  must have been extremely violent and a horrendous experience for the inhabitants resulting in Thomas and his family fleeing to Yorkshire. This  volatile situation escalated eventually culminating in  an enraged and galvanised Edward IV marching on Lincolnshire to quell what had now become a full blown rebellion at the Battle of Empingham  – also known as Losecoat Field – near Stamford on the 12th March 1470.  I have only touched lightly here upon the rather confusing toing and froing that took place in the weeks which led to Empingham but for those who would like to delve deeper I can recommend reading The Road to Losecoat Field: The Story of the First Lincolnshire Rebellion by Nicolas Bennett.  After the rebellion – which later became known as the First Lincolnshire Rising –  had been crushed and Lord Welles executed, Thomas’ wealth was enhanced by the reversion of the lands forfeited by the executed lord.   Thomas’ powers would be  eclipsed for a while with the readeption of Henry VI until Edward’s triumphant return to the throne in 1471.  When Edward died rather suddenly in 1483 and Richard III became king Thomas was able to seamlessly and successfully transfer himself to the new king’s household retaining all his old offices.  On October 10th 1483 Richard III would spend the night at the Hall on his way to London from York.  That night Richard dictated a letter to a John Crackenthorppe, Receyvor,  instructing him to pay Humphrey Metcalfe, a servant, ‘for thexpenses of oure housholde at oure Castelle of Carlile the somme of fyve hundreth markes’ signing off with Yevene etc at Gaynesburghe the xth day of Octobre the furst yere of oure Reigne (5).  Richard would go on to  create  Thomas a Knight of the Garter.   However following the death of Richard at Bosworth in 1485 –  a battle at  which there is no indication Thomas was present  –   the accession of Henry Tudor brought about the loss of his gains from Richard as well as several of his Lincolnshire offices.  Nevertheless he did manage to maintain his position of royal councillor – no doubt Henry recognised his skills and wisdom – and in 1487 he received a personal summons to parliament.  Rosemary Horrox wrote there is no evidence he took his seat in the Lords and in his will he described himself simply as ‘Thomas Burgh knight‘ (6). 

Thomas died on the 18th March 1496, a goodly life span for those times and still an extremely wealthy man.  He requested in his will that  his body was to be buried next to his wife Margaret –  daughter of Thomas, Lord Ros/Roos who had died on 10th December 1488 –  in the chapel he had built in the nearby All Saints Parish Church in  Gainsborough  – ‘wheresoever it happen to decease in my newe chapel’   Besides requesting that a perpetual chantry was to be founded for himself, Margaret,  his parents, his ancestors and all Christian souls he also left  instructions on the design of the tomb he wanted built for himself and his wife at the north end of the altar in his chapel.   Today only the tower of the medieval church remains today having been drastically rebuilt in the 18th century.  I have been unable to discover what became of the tomb of Thomas and his wife.  Perhaps they still lie there in a vault but sadly I fear the worst.

All Hallows Church Gainsborough where Sir Thomas Burgh asked to be buried next to his wife.   Only the tower of the medieval church remains the rest is Georgian.   Thomas would have known this church very well and passed regularly through the old doorway shown here.  

GAINSBOROUGH OLD HALL

 A benign carved lion peers down from over an old doorway.  Photo Lee Beel@Alamy

There is no sweeping grand entrance to Gainsborough Old Hall, no avenue of ancient oaks or sheep safely grazing that you find with many  other similar ancient and impressive manor houses.   Gainsborough Old Hall has been aptly described by Anthony Emery as a ‘major country house in an urban setting‘.  When it was first built in the early 15th century it stood on the edge of a small inland port but, with the passage of time,  it now stands slap bang  in the middle of a ‘depressing 19th century agricultural town’.   Having never been to Gainsborough I cannot really say, but to be honest,  on the whole time and progress does not deal kindly with architecture especially that which is centuries old and indeed in the 1960s some bright spark suggested the Hall be demolished to make way for a car park.   The Hall had managed to retain much of its original surroundings with its grounds extending to the parish church, the River Trent to the west and open land to the north until the arrival of the late 19th century when warehouses rose between the Hall and the river and, rather shockingly,  housing estates swallowed up the Hall’s grounds.  Nevertheless the Hall, now standing on ‘a lawn in a back street’,  has miraculously survived and make no mistake about it – it is undeniably a truly wonderful survivor and has been described, justifiably experts say,  as ‘one of the country’s best preserved medieval manors’.  

Leyland tell us that the Hall was originally surrounded by a moat.  This may be why two 19th century houses to the immediate north of the hall  suffered from subsidence probably as a result of poor infilling of the moat when it was emptied.  As was the usual plan for  later medieval  manor houses of that period  the private apartments would have been in the east range facing the quieter  inner court and furthest away from the main entrance.   For the greater part English oak was used for the close studded timber framing that is in abundance and which was  almost certainly sourced locally from the great swathe of forest that once formed a part of the surrounding estate  although towards the end of the period of building more brick was used (6).

The Great Hall.

The Great Hall Looking towards the High Table.  Photo Craig Thornber @thornber.net

In the time of Thomas the floor of the Great Hall was not tiled as it is today but would have been of compressed earth which sometimes would have been ‘consolidated by the addition of a layer of fresh ox blood’ . It would then have been strewn with rushes known as thresh which soaked up spillages and was easily scooped up and replaced with fresh when required.  Of note is the beautiful dressed stone bay window with Perpendicular  traceried openings.

The bay window with its perpendicular tracery in the Great Hall.  Photo Ben Abel@Flickr

 The medieval bay window from the exterior.  Photo Glass Angel@Flickr.

As usual with great halls from the period at one end was the dais on which the lord’s table stood and at the other end were doors leading, conveniently,  to the kitchen, buttery and pantry.  There may also have been a minstrels gallery above these doors.  Heating was via an open fire in the the middle of the hall supplement by open braziers dotted around.  The smoke would have escaped through an open louvre in the the roof, the original of  which has now been moved to a bedroom in the tower.

The Kitchen

The kitchen is amongst the best preserved medieval kitchens in England with two massive fireplaces.  There is also a twin oven built into one of the walls possibly for pastries etc., Looking up the chimney by the built in ovens there can be seen the bricks jutting out that aided the young boys sent up to ‘sweep them’.   A louvre similar to that in the Great Hall as well as  helping  to get rid of the excess steam, smoke and fumes would also give some extra light.   This medieval louvre has not survived and the one seen today is 19th century.   Ladders would have led to the servants quarters.

The Medieval Kitchen.  Photo Flickr.com

The Tower and East Range

It is believed that the Tower was added to the East range in the mid 1480s.   Consisting of three floors connected by a spiral stone staircase with a room and garderobe on each one it’s believed the Tower may have been used for Thomas’ family.   Mention is made of a tower in Thomas’ will  ‘And also I will if my son Thomas  life at the day of my buriell that he have the bedde of the lowe tower and hanging and counterpoint of the said towere’

CORRIDORS AND GHOSTS

Unlike other buildings from the period where the rooms were generally ‘linked’ the Hall has a number of interesting  and atmospheric corridors.  The one on the East wing is reputed to be haunted by a female ghost, dressed in grey, obvs, who after reaching the leaded lights changes direction and heads through a doorway leading towards the Tower.  It has been suggested this may be the ghost of Queen Catherine Howard, who stayed at the Hall with her spouse, the fragrant Henry VIII.  The guide book suggests if you should happen upon her do ask her who she and solve the mystery.  Yikes and Not A Chance!

One of the intriguing passage ways at the Hall, one of which is said to be haunted by a lady in a grey dress.   Perhaps not somewhere you would like to linger when night falls and the shadows lengthen…

I have only touched briefly here upon Gainsborough Old Hall – home to Sir Thomas Burgh and his family during the period covering his life there.  There is much more should you wish to delve including the three day visit by Henry VIII and his ill fated wife, Catherine Howard in August 1541.  If ever you should chance up that way a visit surely a visit to check out Gainsborough Old Hall should be high on the list of Interesting Places To Visit!

1. Greater Medieval Houses of England and Wales Volume II.  p.p.243-250. Anthony Emery.
2. Ibid.
3. A Chronicle of the First Thirteen Years of the Reign of King Edward the Fourth by John Warkworth.  
4.  The Road to Losecoat Field: The story of the first Lincolnshire Rising. Nicholas Bennett. Article in The Ricardian Vol XXX 2020. 
5.  Harleian Manuscript 433 Vol II p.28.  Ed Rosemary Horrox and P W Hammond.
6. Burgh, Thomas, Baron Burgh (c.1430-1496). Rosemary Horrox.
7. Gainsborough Old Hall Guide Book. p.3.Sue Allen

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Shrine of many ribbons at the entrance to Crossbones Cemetery.  Photo Kay Nicols. 

It’s harder to find a more sadder place in South London than the site of Crossbones Burial Ground, Redcross Way,  which is a side street tucked away off the busy Borough High Street, South London.   It’s safe to say that many Londoners are not aware about the existence of this sad place so hidden away is it.  John Stow first mentioned the burial place in 1598 in his History of London.   He wrote “ I have read of ancient men of good credit report that single women were forbidden the rites of the church, so long as they continued that sinful life, and were excluded from Christian burial, if they were not reconciled before their death. And therefore there was a plot of ground called the Single Womens churchyard, appointed for them far from the parish church.”(1).

Those buried there were the poorest of society and predominantly women and children. A large number of these women were prostitutes known as ‘Winchester Geese‘  so named because the Lord of Manor at that time was the Bishop of Winchester who  licensed  and taxed the Southwark brothels which lay just outside of the stricter jurisdiction of the City of London.    This taxation secured another source of income for  the church to add to their ever burgeoning coffers.  The crown also tried to regulate the Southwark brothels then known as ‘stews‘ and In 1161, Henry II laid down 39 rules known as the “Ordinances Touching the Government of the Stewholders in Southwark Under the Direction of the Bishop of Winchester.“  These rules included :

No stewholder was to prevent his ‘geese’ from entering or leaving the premises at will.  Each prostitute had to pay 14 pence per week for her chamber.

Constables were to search each brothel regularly to check that no woman was being held there against her wishes.  Any such woman was to be escorted to safety and out of reach of her stewholder.

No stewholder was  to lend one of his prostitutes more than 6 shillings and  8d.  This was designed to prevent girls from being enslaved by running up large debts.

No prostitute to be prevented from boarding wherever she wished.

No stew to open for business on a religious holiday except between the hours of noon and 2 pm.

No stewholder to knowingly accept a nun or another man’s wife for whoring without the Bishop’s permission….I know.. I know…you couldn’t make it up…!

No stewholder was to imprison any customers on the premises for not paying their bills.

No prostitute to wear an apron which was the garment of a respectable woman

Prostitutes were not allowed to throw stones or pull faces at passers by if they refused to enter the stew.(2)

Nevertheless completely unabashed from profiting financially from their Winchester Geese the church ordained that they would not be allowed burial in consecrated land.  In such highly religious times this must have been devastating for those unfortunates who no doubt  would have found it impossible to extricate themselves from prostitution.     After 1769 as well as the Winchester Geese the cemetery also became the last resting place of paupers, people who had died in the local work house, and unfortunates found drowned in the River Thames.     Over the centuries they were buried there, layer upon sad layer, and in  1832 a letter from parish authorities had noted the ground was “so very full of coffins that it is necessary to bury within two feet of the surface,” and that “the effluviem is so very offensive that we fear the consequences may be very injurious to the surrounding neighborhood.”(3). 

In 1853 following a petition made by a Mrs Gwilt, involvement by the Board of Health and finally on orders from Lord Palmerstone,  all future burials  were stopped on the grounds that the site was ‘completely overcharged with dead’.

   Incredibly in 1883 the site was sold as a building site.  However on the 10th November 1883,   Lord Brabazon – bless him – fired off a furious letter to the Times demanding the burial site be saved from any further desecration and the area retained as an open space for the use and enjoyment of the people. For a while it was used in the 20th century as a timber yard and for an ever shorter while,  a fair ground.  But locals remembered the original use of the land and in the 1990s,  when an offshoot of the building of the Jubilee Line was about to be built,  an opportunity arose to  excavate a small area to the east and around 140 bodies were recovered.  Tests carried out  by the Museum of London  on these remains found them in the main  to be infected with smallpox, tuberculosis, osteoarthritis and scurvy (4). These remains found just below todays surface  are thought to date from the last 50 years that the site was in use i.e. 1800 to 1853. Over one third of the remains recovered consisted  of perinatal infants,  that is babies who died immediately before or very soon after birth with individuals under 1 year of age making up a further 11%, indicating a high infant mortality rate (5).   The remaining undisturbed burials now lay in a more peaceful setting through the efforts of the Friends of Crossbones who have transformed the area into a peaceful haven and communal garden.

One of the entrances known poignantly  as the Goose Wing entrance has a wooden carving designed by local wood carver Arthur de Mowbray which represents the spirit of Crossbones – a goose stretching her wings and protecting her outcast children –  as well as visitors to the site..

Entrance known as Goose Entrance representing the spirit of Crossbones,  a goose with outstretched wings protecting her outcast children as well as visitors to the site. Photo LostcityofLondon.co.uk

Thanks to History Cold Case, a history documentary that went out in 2018,  the identity of one of the  skeletons – that of a young woman whose remains were excavated by the Museum of London in 1992 from the area in the cemetery where an electrical substation was to be built for the Jubilee Line extension – has been discovered.  The archaeologists discovered that although the latest burials ie.1830-1853,  discovered not far from the surface , had been made in coffins,  they were of the poorest quality recycled wood.  Equipped with the  approximate date of the young woman’s burial  further investigation  by a team of experts enabled her to be identified.  Her name was Elizabeth Marshall.  Careful analysis of her remains would reveal Elizabeth would not have lived  beyond her 19th year and possibly had died as young as 15 or 16.  Life had dealt Elizabeth the most cruelest set of cards for her body, as well as  her face had been  ravished by syphilis.  Not one bone in her body was untouched by the disease and her suffering must have been intense.  As each expert revealed their findings the facts became more and more sadder.   Her syphilis was so advanced that she must have have contracted it when she was but a child.  To add to Elizabeth’s woes, her contraction of syphilis would mean that she was in the lowest class of prostitute – to put it bluntly the stage where prostitute meets beggar.   Her height of just 4′ 7″ would indicate that she was malnourished throughout most of her short life as would the fact that she also suffered from rickets.   She was tracked down as dying on the 15th August 1851 in Magdalen Ward which was the ward for women suffering from venereal disease in St Thomas’ Hospital, Southwark.  But it was not the syphillis that had finally killed Elizabeth but pneumonia  Her address was given as St Thomas’ so it is likely that she was homeless,  although her body did show signs of high levels of mercury,  so at one time she had received ‘treatment’ in an attempt to cure her.  But of course there was no cure.  And Elizabeth, I hope she finally found the peace and tranquility that had eluded her during her lifetime.    Professor Caroline Wilkinson, who recreated the face of Richard III, has recreated Elizabeth’s face.   For those that would like to watch the programme themselves, I recommend it, here is the link:

There is a vigil held on the 23rd day of every month at the Ribbon Gates on Redcross Way, SE1,  for those interested in visiting the burial ground and paying their respects.

Finally I am indebted to the various articles on Crossbones including Crossbones.org, a history of the site to found here

1.  A Survey of London Written in the Year 1598. p.341. John Stow

2. Birth of the Liberty. planetslade.com. Paul Slade

3. The London Graveyard that Became a Memorial for the City’s Seedier Past. Bess Lovejoy. Smithsonian Magazine.  Article 2014.

4. Brickley and Miles.  The Cross Bones Burial Ground. 1999.  MoLAS

5.  See The Museum of London’s website for info 

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