St. Dunstan's Clock, a story of 1666

Front matter

ST. DUNSlAN'a CLOCK. St Dunstan's Clock A Story of 1666 BY E. WARD AUTHOR OF ' FRESH FROM THE FENS,' ' A PAIR OF ORIGINALS,' ETC. With Eight Illustrations LONDON SEELEY AND CO. LIMITED ESSEX STREET, STRAND NOTE The two old timber-houses in Fleet Street, which suggested this story, were pulled dow n while it was passing through the press. They stood to the east of the Church of St Dunstan's in-the-West, and marked approximately the point at which the great fire of 1666 was arrested. Old St Dunstan's Church was demolished in the year 1832, and the only relics of it which now remain upon the spot are the monuments, which were removed to the new church, and the statue of Queen Elizabeth, which stands over the vestry door. This statue formerly stood on Ludgate, and on its destruction in 1760 was placed in the vacant niche at the east end of old St Dunstan's. The old clock was removed to the Regent's Park, and placed on the wall of St Dunstan's Villa, where it still keeps time, and the bronze men still beat upon the bells.

CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE I, A SUMMER'S EVENING LONG AGO, ... I II. THE WATCHMAKER'S HOME, 24 III. MAGDALEN'S FRIEND, 47 IV. THE POOR SCRIVENER, 6S V. THE MAN OF BUSINESS, 89 VI. THE MAN OF FASHION, Ill VII. SURLY STEVE, 133 VIII. A PITIFUL APPEAL, . . 1 55 IX. STORMY SCENES, 177 X. A DAY OF TROUBLE; 1 97 XI. CHRISTOPHER'S CONDITION, 2l8 XII. A MEMORABLE SUNDAY, 241 XIII. FLAMING LONDON, 260 XIV. ST DUNSTAN'S SAVED, ...... 282 XV. THE TURN OF THE TIDE, 300 XVI. GOG AND MAGOG AT A WEDDING, . . . LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE St Dunstan's Clock, . . . Frontispiece. The Two Old Houses in Fleet Street, . . 6 Cloth Fair, by Smithfield, . . . .78 Old St Dunstan's-in-the-West, . . . .130 Gateway of the Inner Temple, .... 166 The Corner of Old Chancery Lane, . . .192 The Fire of London ; from the engraving by Hollar, . 254 The Burning of Ludgatf, ....

Chapter I

A SUMMER'S EVENING LONG AGO Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong!' A sturdy lad, in the flat cap of a London 'prentice, but with the ruddy cheeks and broad shoulders that bespoke a rustic origin, looked up, with his hands stuck in his pockets, as the metallic notes rang out above his head, and was in time to see the two bronze figures which guarded St Dunstan's clock bring down their metal clubs upon the bells which hung in front of them, repeating the action three times, to mark that three-quarters of an hour had passed since the last hour had A boomed out over Fleet Street. The sight of those grim bronze men, striking in turn each upon his bell, had never lost its fascination for the country -bred boy. He crossed the street a dozen times a day to watch the blows fall, and openly lamented that his master's shop was on the same side as the church, so that, from his station at the door, guarding and calling the wares, he could not see the actions of the figures, save by darting across the roadway as the first hammer fell.

On this bright summer's evening the number of the strokes seemed to take him somewhat by surprise. He took his hands from his pockets and looked open-mouthed at the face of the clock : though as it had but one hand, as was the fashion of clocks two hundred years ago, he could better learn the exact time by the strokes of the bells. ' Good-lack ! It wants but a quarter to eight ! How the minutes do slide by in all sooth ! Folks will soon be a-bed, and our shutters not up yet ! Good-night to you, John ; I must be off to my duties.' ' Good-night, valiant Dick. Then I may depend upon you next Sunday? It will be a rare bit of sport, I warrant you ? ' Dick's honest red face grew a trifle more red. He hesitated, still with his eye upon the clock, as though conscious of the rapid flight of time and his own neglected duties. ' We'll talk more of it anon,' he said. ' There's three days betwixt to-night and Sun day.

I'd like well enough to see the fight ; but there be Sundays when I can scarce make shift to get away.' ' Mercy on me ! They don't keep you at work on Sunday surely — and your master such an easy one too? I'd soon know the reason why if it were me. Master Widdrington doesn't sell his wares of a Sunday, eh?' 'Never a bit,' answered Dick, rather hotly. ' My master is the best in the world, and the kindest too. But there be Sundays when I walk out into the country with Mistress Mag dalen. She loves well the sight of green fields and running water ; and the master of late days has not felt the same strength of limb he used to have.' ' And sends you in his place with pretty Mistress Magdalen! — ho-ho ! A fine begin ning for a country 'prentice ! You're a wiser bird than you look, Dick Bolt. So you think you'll step into the business yourself one of these days, and turn watchmaker on your own account?

Is that it, eh? And so we walk gingerly and shun Sunday sports that good folk begin to look coldly on, and go walking abroad with our master's pretty daughter. Ha ha ! That's good hearing ! Why — ' But the jeering speech ended in a sudden howl, as the taller lad went down like a nine pin and measured his length in the dusty road ; Dick who was swelling like a turkey-cock, his face as red as the wattles of that irascible bird, contenting himself with a vicious parting kick as he ran across the street in a diagonal direc tion towards the abode of his own master, whose low doorway was surmounted by the inscription, MICHAEL WIDDRINGTON, Watch and Clockmaker, the inscription being very much dimmed by time and weather, and only legible in a good light. The house, over the door of which this legend ran, was one of two old timbered houses in Fleet Street, standing under the very shadow of the ancient church of St Dunstan's in the West.

Old St Dunstan's church, which was de molished some sixty years ago, projected out into Fleet Street, standing half across the thoroughfare, and against it narrow shops were erected, where various wares were exposed for sale. The church had a low tower and a great clock hanging by an iron bracket over the middle of the thoroughfare. This bracket sprang from the south wall of the building, and directly over it was a small pavilion-like struc ture, in which stood the two bronze figures (called Gog and Magog by the voice of tra dition), each with a club in his hand. Before each figure hung a bell, and as the quarter was reached each struck his bell with the club — once at the first quarter, twice at the second, and so to four times before the hour struck. Close against the church, and shadowed from the western sun by its projecting walls, stood the two timbered houses before mentioned, that next the church being the one belonging to the watchmaker, and looking altogether very old and faded, whilst its neighbour was in far better condition in the matter of paint and cleanliness, and bespoke at least a moder ate prosperity for its owner.

The name over the second door was Nicholas Brayling, and a scroll, inscribed in much smaller letters, in formed such as cared to decipher it that silk goods, curiosities and antiquities, eastern em broideries and jewels were to be had within. But there was little in the window to tempt the fancy of the passer-by. Nicholas Brayling appeared to be independent of casual custom in his line of business. two houses, though quaint in construc tion, were by no means highly ornamented or so picturesque as many others in the street. Each had a gabled front, and projecting lat ticed windows, and a balcony above the second floor which ran the whole length of the two structures, and enabled the inmates, if so disposed, to pay visits to each other without THE TWO OLD HOUSES IN FLEET STREET. A Slimmer s Evening long Ago 7 descending to the street.

The ground floor of each house was low and dark, and was entirely occupied by the shop and a storage place behind. The inmates lived in the rooms above, and the balcony was a favourite place of resort on summer evenings for the watch maker and his daughter. The western sunlight was shining through Old Temple Bar as Dick ran quickly back to his neglected duties, and as he turned the angle formed by the projecting church, he felt glad that that friendly shield had hidden from view the recent assault upon a brother appren tice. For a quick upward glance showed the boy that his young mistress was standing upon the balcony and looking down into the street, and he had a very good notion that she would not have approved the assault could she have seen it, and the fact that it was made out of love and reverence for her might not have made matters any better.

Sweet Mistress Magdalen had none of the love for fights and conflicts which seemed to Dick the very es sence of life's happiness. She had rebuked him many times for coming in with a black- St Dunstan 's Clock ened eye or bloody nose, and although she had washed his wounds with her own fair hands, she had only laughed when he had striven to kiss that fair hand afterwards, and had called him a 'right foolish boy,' whereat all the latent manhood in Dick's youthful body had risen in revolt, and he had vowed in his heart that he would soon show to all the world that in spite of his immature years he was no boy, but a grown man with all a man's feelings and impulses. He pulled off his cap now at sight of his mistress, and was in the act of making just such a bow as he had seen a handsome young gallant on horseback that day bestow upon a lady in a passing coach, when a gruff voice bawled to him to have done with his mincing foolery and come and look to his duties — idle young jackanapes that he was — not worth his salt — never at hand when he was wanted, and always in the way when he was not !

Dick knew that voice well, and sprang to obey its summons. The thorn in Dick's present lot was the surly and passionate temper of Steve Anderson, the shopman, who had the A Summer s Evening long Ago 9 main charge of Michael Widdrington's retail business. The old man himself gave up almost the whole of his time to the repair and construction of clocks and watches, and took little interest in the shop, save when Steve was out of the way, and he had taken his place behind the counter. For the most part he worked by the light of a strong re flector lamp, of his own construction, in a dark den behind the shop, ever trying new com binations and experiments in clockwork, and always lamenting the imperfect state of the science, which seemed to make such small advances towards greater perfection. The old man was thorough master of his trade, and Dick looked upon him with deep reverence and awe, and was proving an apt pupil in man)7 of the intricacies of the mechanical part of the business.

But his business was greatly on the decline ; for his old friends and customers were fast dying off — the plague the previous year had swept away great numbers of them — and there was not push or energy about the old man to attract fresh customers. Those who came to consult him, only too often went away Si Dunstan's Clock 10 bewildered at his talk, or seared to purchase goods which were so depreciated by their owner. As the old man sometimes said to his daughter, with a patient smile, ' a genera tion had grown up that knew not Joseph,' and he was fast being left behind, stranded and forlorn, whilst the current of life swept past him on its never-ceasing tide. ' Anon, anon ! ' cried Dick, as he sprang to assist Steve with the heavy shutter he was carrying forth. Most of the other shutters in the street were already up, but Michael's shop often stood open after the rest.

The old man was very easy-going in his ways, and the summer's evening sometimes brought out-of the-way customers after hours. 'Ay, ay, it's always anon with thee,' Crumbled Steve, a black-browed man, rather underhung in the lower jaw, who looked about forty years of age, 'always anon with thee — never on the spot when thou art wanted. If thou hadst any other master but the one thou hast got, thou wouldst go to bed supperless and with a sore skin half the nights of thy life.' ' Don't be cross, Steve,' answered Dick cheerfully — he was learning by experience how best to treat his companion's grim temper, ' I've just knocked John, the farrier's 'prentice, into the gutter for jeering at our mistress. You wouldn't have had me forego punishing the loon just to be in time for the shutters. Didn't he yell right lustily ?

I marvel you did not hear him away down here ! ' A grin appeared on the sullen face of the shopman. It appeared as though the thought of a battle mollified his displeasure. He looked Dick over as he said, — ' Thee be a good 'un for fighting, Dick. Well I'm glad thou got the best of him. Did he hit thee back ? He's a bigger chap nor thee and stronger, swinging those big hammers all day long. What did he give thee back ? ' ' I didn't wait for that,' answered Dick laughine. ' I aave him a kick and ran off here. I hadn't time to fight it out then. We'll do that another day.' By this time the shutters were all up. Foot-passengers were getting scarcer, and the roll of wheels had practically ceased for the night. But the midsummer evening was still St Dunstan's Clock 12 warm and bright, and Steve and Dick lingered outside the shop watching the few passers-by, and hearing scraps of their talk clearly enough.

In the increasing stillness, Dick was able to distinguish the soft tones of Magdalen's voice above as she conversed with her father on the balcony. The words were indistinguishable, but the sound of the low sweet voice sent the lad off into a sentimental reverie ; and he was picturing to himself a number of right doughty deeds that he was to do in her service some day, when his attention was recalled to the present by hearing a cheerful hail from the pavement opposite, not however addressed to him, but to his master above. 'Good Master Michael, have you heard the news ? ' 'What news, honest Peter? News comes not readily to my doors.' ' Nay, but this news concerns you something nearly, an I mistake me not. Have you heard aught of late concerning young Christopher Mason, not so long since a clerk to Master Babbington, the merchant hard by Dowo-ate ? ' ' Christopher Mason ? ' echoed the old watch- ■a3 maker, ' why truly I trow I know all that any man does of him.

He went first on a voyage to the Indies for his master ; and then was sent to Bristol to abide there for the sake of the business, where he has since remained. 'Twas some time last year we heard from him. A sailor coming round by sea brought us a letter. He was well and thriving then. In deed, he had set up in business on his own account. Have you heard aught of him since then ? Perchance you know more than we.' 'Why, verily, I plainly do, for I have seen him in the flesh this very day. He is here in London whilst we speak. I passed him on my nag but two hours ago, bringing in his goods in great waggons through West minster. He was about to put them on a barge there, and so convey them to some wharf nigh to Thames Street, where, it seems, he purposes to reside. Other goods he has coming round by sea, which will be here anon.

He must have thriven amain by what he says ; and these new Acts, lately passed by the King — God preserve him ! — St Dunstan s Clock 14 encouraging the manufacture of linen goods and tapestries at home, and conferring ex traordinary privileges on certain persons con nected with the industry, appear to have made some mighty change for the better in young Christopher's prospects. I have no great understanding of such matters ; but he talked with me in a right cheerful fashion, and bid me see you if I could, and convey to you and sweet Mistress Magdalen his humble duty and service; and he trusts to be with you himself anon, to tell you more of his tale.' ' Christopher in London ! Christopher a thriving man ! Nay, now, but this is right welcome news,' cried Magdalen's clear voice ; and Dick, stepping forth into the street, saw that her fair face was all in a glow, as she showered down questions upon the friend below on the pavement, and seemed to drink in his replies as a thirsty man quaffs great draughts of clear cold water.

Michael, too, appeared unwontedly aroused, and for many minutes, an animated dialogue proceeded, in which more than one neighbour joined. Heads were thrust out of many windows, and the name of Christopher Mason was on all lips, every one combining to praise his industry, energy and talent, and to pro phesy great things of his future. Dick listened open-mouthed to all the talk. He had the insatiable curiosity of a country bred lad recently inducted into the bustle and excitement of town life, and everything in which his young mistress was in any way con cerned could not fail to interest him nearly. Stepping back to the shadow of the shop, where Steve was still lounging, indulging in the luxury of a pipe, which indulgence al ways somewhat mellowed his temper for the moment, Dick began to ask eager questions. ' Prithee, who and what is this fellow — this Christopher Mason — of whom these good folk are making such a mighty talking ?' ' Marry, he is a youthful merchant by this time, if all they say be true.

When I saw him last he was but a clerk in a merchant's office, but with wits and impudence to spare — just the sort of fellow to push his way. His mother had been long a widow, and she dwelt under our roof, being, in some distant fashion, a kinswoman of the master's ; and he is always soft-hearted where women folk are in the matter. However, I don't think he lost by his kindness, for young Christopher brought money home regularly enow, and when she died, he still visited here often, though he lived over his master's warehouses down by the river side somewhere. And as was natural, he came courting in time, as Mistress Magdalen grew up, and they were betrothed ere he went away to mend his for tunes. Like enough he has come back to wed her now, seeing that he is on the way to make himself a fortune and a good business.' Dick had turned suddenly pale.

Even in the gathering dusk it could be seen that the colour had all faded from his ruddy face. He stepped back into the shadow, rather like one who has received a sudden and stunning blow. Steve took the pipe from between his lips, and stared at him curiously. ' Gramercy ! what's got the lad ! That's the way folk looked last year when they were took for the plague, and swooned and fell down dead ere one could skip out of their path. Why, what ails thee, Dick ? Hast been eat ing cherries again to-day and got the colic ? Is the pain in thy stomach, or where ? ' Anger at this base insult brought the colour back to the boy's cheek. Here had he just received the heart - breaking news that his mistress's fair hand was already pledged to another, and he was asked if he had a stomach - ache ! Human nature could not stand such an insult.

The boy's eyes flashed, and, springing upon Steve, with an oath (oaths were but too frequent and fashionable in those days, and well-meaning folk caught the evil habit from their so-called ' betters '), he dealt him some sounding blows with his fists, showering hot abuse upon him the while, as if so he could relieve the anguish of his spirit. Steve was accounted a violent and bad tempered man, and with only too good cause, but this sort of attack did not ruffle his temper. He was a strong, muscular fellow, and Dick's wildly-struck blows only served to amuse him. He knew exactly what was passing in the boy's mind. He had watched, with a grim sense of B humour, the growth of the tender passion in this boy of fourteen for his young mistress, who was nearly seven years his senior, and in mind older than her years, from such constant associa tion with her father.

So he let Dick pommel him till he was pretty well out of breath, and then it was the grieved voice of Magdalen that interposed on his behalf. The girl had slipped down the dark staircase to ask a few more personal questions of their neighbour than she cared to do from the balcony, and came upon the conflict so lustily being carried on below. ' Oh, Dick, Dick ! ' she exclaimed, sorrow fully, ' what will this dreadful love of fighting lead to next ? Nay, I have no words for a naughty boy who will not heed a word that is spoke to him. For shame, for shame, Dick ! Ay, go to bed, and be thankful it is not the prisoner's bed, where, if you take not heed to your ways, your fighting propensities will one day land you.' And so saying, the graceful, sweet-faced girl passed out into the street, and Dick sneaked away to his box-like bed to hide his tears, and strive to assert his fallen man hood by cursing the day that he was born, and A Summer s Evening long Ago 19 otherwise turning such fine phrases as he could recollect or invent as appropriate to one in such hard case as his.

Supper had long since been over ; it was served at the universal hour of six in the first floor parlour, which was used as the dining room. In the room behind Michael slept, and Dick had a little cupboard-like place on the same landing, and he had soon discovered that, when lying in bed, he was able to hear every word spoken in the front room, unless the speakers were very low or very rapid in their utterance. Dick's curiosity was considerably in excess of his sense of honour, and he had frequently been greatly interested and amused by listening to conversations certainly not meant for his ears, though he frequently made little of them. When he had sneaked off to bed so readily, it was rather with a view of concealing the tears which shamed his manhood than of hearing anything of interest that might pass in the parlour ; and yet, as father and daughter exchanged fond good-nights a few minutes later, when Michael had come down from the balcony and Magdalen had returned from the street, Dick, in his unsuspected lair, listened greedily to every word. ' I am not a little thankful for this timely return of your Christopher, and shall welcome him heartily to my poor home,' said Michael. ' This news is the most welcome that I have heard these many days.' ' Indeed, yes, my father, it is right joyful news.

But why call you it timely ? Would you not always be as glad to see him as now ? ' ' I call it timely, my child, forasmuch as I have felt a sense of fear and oppression of late. I have troubles that you wot not of, and Chris topher may be as a tower of strength to us in the day of trouble.' ' But, father, dear father, why speak you of a day of trouble ? And why keep you secrets from your child ? Nay, it is unkind to do so, for whom have I but you, or you but me ? Dearest father, I prithee tell me all. Let us share the burden together, be it what it may.' ' Nay, thou dost half know it already, my child. Thou knowest that the days are evil ; that trade, so terribly checked last year during that fearful pestilence, has never returned to A Summer s Evening long Ago 21 my doors ; that we could not meet our rent when last it fell due ; and that all these summer days few and yet fewer customers come to our door.

Thou knowest this, my child, as well as I, alack!' ' Yes, father, I know it.' Magdalen hesitated a few brief seconds, as if half disposed to say more, but, checking herself, she merely asked, ' But what is the trouble I wot not of?' ' A debt, my child, a debt. It is the first I ever contracted — Heaven send it be the last ! — for it hangs like a mill-stone about my neck. A debt that is yet unpaid — which I doubt if I can ever repay. And yet the day of reckoning must surely come ; and thus I say I am thankful and glad that we may have a friend at hand to help if things should come to the worst with us.' ' To whom is this debt owed, my father ? ' ' You know the poor scrivener of Smithfield, Tom Davis by name, who comes hither from time to time to see me ? ' ' Why, father, yes ; I go many days to see his crippled sister, poor Hannah, who ever welcomes me gladly.

But they are poor as St Dunstan s Clock 22 church-mice themselves. Sure they can never have lent you money ? ' ' Nay, but his father did. It was the year your mother died ; and I was so distracted with grief that I let my business grow slack, and had naught to meet the surgeon's bill or those of the tradesfolk who had supplied her with those delicacies her condition required. In my perplexity, I applied to my old friend ; and he lent me money, and never troubled me for repayment, or made as if he re membered the debt. You know the story of his sudden failure and death. You can remember both right well ? On his death-bed I visited him ; and, holding my hand in his, he gave a look at poor Tom, standing by and sob bing in his grief, and he said to me, " You will do what is right by him and poor Hannah.

I never meant to have troubled you ; but they will be poorer now than you. Let them have a little back at a time, as you can spare it. Tom knows all, but I have bidden him be patient and never press you. You will do what is right by them ; " and I said that I wculd, and so he died. But it is but one small ten A Summer's Evening long Ago 23 pounds of the debt I have ever been able to repay since ; and now poor Tom tells me they are sometimes well-nigh starved themselves. I know what he is thinking when he speaks so, and what answer to make I know not. My old friend's last charge lies like a load upon my heart night and day. Thus it is that I say Christopher's arrival may be timely indeed ; for, after all we did for his dying mother, sure he would not grudge me a little of his wealth to take this sore load off my neck.

Then Tom would be relieved from a great strait ; and far sooner would I owe the debt to Christopher than to any other living soul.' ' Oh, father ; yes, yes ! ' cried Magdalen, with feverish eagerness. ' Oh, he will be sure to help us when he knows all. Ah, poor Tom Davis ! I have ofttimes been sad for him ; but I never knew — I never knew. Oh, we must relieve him of his necessities ! We must in deed ! ' ' If we can, my daughter, if we can. Heaven send that Christopher may help us through the time of trouble ! ' CH A PTER I I THE WATCHMAKER'S HOME Magdalen went up the dark narrow staircase with a heavy sense of oppression upon her, quite clouding the happiness with which she had heard of her lover's return. The thought of her father's secret trouble was grievous to her ; the sufferings of the poor scrivener and his sister in their poverty went to her heart.