the cities, but the city of the 
sixteenth century bore slight resemblance to a city of to-day. 
London, with less than 200,000 inhabitants, was still a medieval city in 
appearance, surrounded by a defensive wall, guarded by the Tower, and 
crowned by the cathedral. The city proper lay on the north of the 
Thames, and the wall made a semicircle of some two miles, from the 
Tower on the east to the Fleet ditch and Blackfriars on the west. Seven 
gates pierced the wall to the north, and the roads passing through them
into the fields were lined with houses. Westward along the river were 
great palaces, behind which the building was practically continuous 
along the muddy road that led to the separate city of Westminster. The 
Thames, noted for its fish and swans, was the great thoroughfare, 
crowded with many kinds of boats and spanned by the famous London 
Bridge. By one of the many rowboats that carried passengers hither and 
thither, or on foot over the arches of the bridge, between the rows of 
houses that lined it, and under the heads of criminals which decorated 
its entrance, you might cross the Thames to Southwark. Turning west, 
past St. Saviour's and the palace of the Bishop of Winchester, you were 
soon on the Bankside, a locality long given over to houses of ill fame 
and rings for the baiting of bulls and bears. The theaters, forbidden in 
the city proper, were built either in the fields to the north of the walls, 
or across the river close by the kennels and rings. Here, as Shakespeare 
waited for a boatman to ferry him across to Blackfriars, the whole city 
was spread before his eyes, in the foreground the panorama of the 
beautiful river, beyond it the crowded houses, the spires of many 
churches, and the great tower of old St. Paul's. 
[Page Heading: Tudor London] 
It was a city of narrow streets, open sewers, wooden houses, without an 
adequate water supply or sanitation, in constant danger from fire and 
plague. But dirt and disease were no more prevalent than they had been 
for centuries; in spite of them, there was no lack of life in the crowded 
lanes. The great palaces were outside the city proper, and there were 
few notable buildings within its precincts except the churches. The 
dismantled monasteries still occupied large areas, but were being made 
over to strange uses, the theaters eventually finding a place in 
Blackfriars and Whitefriars. The Strand was an ill-paved street running 
behind the river palaces, past the village of Charing Cross, on to the 
royal palace of Whitehall and to the Abbey and Hall at Westminster. 
The walls and surrounding moat had ceased to be of use for defense, 
and building constantly spread into the fields without. These fields 
were favorite places for recreation and served the purpose of city parks. 
The Elizabethans were fond of outdoor sports and spent little daytime 
indoors. The shops were open to the street, and the clear spaces at
Cheapside and St. Paul's Church-yard seem to have been always 
crowded. St. Paul's, although still used for religious services, had 
become a sort of city club or general meeting place. Mules and horses 
were no longer to be found there as in the reign of Mary, but the nave 
was in constant use as a place for gossip and business. The churchyard 
was the usual place for holding lotteries, and here were the shops of a 
majority of the London booksellers. In its northeast corner was Paul's 
Cross, the famous pulpit whence the wishes of the government were 
announced and popularized by the Sunday preachers. And here the 
variety of London life was most fully exhibited. The processions and 
entertainments at court, the ambassadors from afar, the law students 
from the Temple, the old soldiers destitute after service in Flanders, the 
seamen returned from plundering the Spanish gold fleet, the youths 
from the university come to the city to earn their living by their wits, 
the bishop and the puritan, who looked at each other askance, the 
young squire come to be gulled of his lands by the roarers of the tavern, 
the solid merchant with his chain of gold, the wives who aped the court 
ladies with their enormous farthingales and ruffs, the court gallant with 
his dyed beard and huge breeches, the idle apprentices quick to riot, the 
poor poets in prison for debt--these and how many more are familiar to 
every reader of the Elizabethan drama. As often in periods of 
commercial prosperity, luxury became fantastic. Men sold their acres to 
put costly garments on their backs. Clothing was absurd and ran to 
extreme sizes of ruffs, farthingales, and breeches, or to gaudy colors 
and jewels. Enormous sums were spent on feasts, entertainments, and    
    
		
	
	
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