nothing like the sprawling city we know today. Because some of its very oldest buildings and monumentsâParliament, the Tower of London, some castles and mansionsâstill stand, many people think the city hasnât changed very much. But it has. The London where Arthur and I fretted about the Puritans and Christmas almost four hundred years ago was a much dirtier, desperate place, where most citizens lived in poverty and seldom survived past the age of fifty. A few rich people enjoyed lives of luxury, living in fine homes and riding everywhere in gilded, horse-drawn carriages. Almost everyone else, including many children, labored for little pay at difficult, physically demanding jobs and went home to dark, damp huts at night with nothing to look forward to but a supper of scraps and then a few hours of sleep before they had to get up and do the same discouraging things all over again.
Four million people lived in England then, and about two hundred and fifty thousand of them were in London, making it by far the largest city in the country. It was one of the oldest, too, originally built as a fort and supply depot by the Romans in 43 A.D. on the south bank of the River Thames, a mighty waterway. When the Romans left four hundred years later, the Saxons gradually took it over, and then the Normans. It became clear that whoever ruled England would do so from London.
That meant the city attracted lots of people, starting with the lords and ladies who made up the royal court. They wanted great houses of stone and later brick to live in, and servants to tend to their needs. Building materials and food and clothing had to be supplied by merchants, who made up a sort of in-between social class. They, in turn, needed people to build their shops and the much more modest homes middle-class families lived inâhouses cobbled together from wood and plaster, not more expensive stone. Still others were needed to prepare the food and sew the clothing the merchants sold to the rich, and these workers were paid very small salariesâpennies every week, not every dayâand their homes were really tiny huts, often with thatch roofs that would burn far too easily. And so the population of London always grew, with dozens of very poor people added for each rich one.
I walked through London after my conversation with Arthur. It was late November in 1622. Nicholas and Felix had been in America for almost two years. I missed my husband terribly, and, of course, I missed Felix, too. But as I walked, my thoughts were about the people and places I was seeing. What a difference there was between the lives of the rich and poor! Most of Londonâs streets were narrow and dirty. A few avenues were paved with cobblestones, but these were the ones that led directly to the fine mansions. Everyone else walked to and from their homes and jobs on paths of dirt. When it rained, the mud was ankle-deep. During dry weather, dust blew up into everyoneâs eyes, noses, and mouths. Garbage was everywhere. There were no organized pickups of trash. If you were lucky enough to have an apple to eat and not so hungry that youâd gulp down every bit of it, including the stem and seeds, then youâd toss the core into the street. It would lie there, swarming with flies, until it rotted away, or until it was gobbled by one of the hundreds of pigs that waddled around loose. Stray dogs and cats roamed everywhere, too, fighting beggars and cripples for bits of bread or cheese tossed from passing carriagesânot in charity, usually, but by someone riding along in comfort whoâd eaten his or her fill and was discarding the leftovers. And rats ate whatever the humans and other animals somehow missed.
As I approached the Thames, I saw that, as usual, its banks were lined with fishermen. The wide river teemed with salmon, trout, perch, and eels. Those who traded in seafood had boats and nets; they could go out in the deepest parts of the river
Four million people lived in England then, and about two hundred and fifty thousand of them were in London, making it by far the largest city in the country. It was one of the oldest, too, originally built as a fort and supply depot by the Romans in 43 A.D. on the south bank of the River Thames, a mighty waterway. When the Romans left four hundred years later, the Saxons gradually took it over, and then the Normans. It became clear that whoever ruled England would do so from London.
That meant the city attracted lots of people, starting with the lords and ladies who made up the royal court. They wanted great houses of stone and later brick to live in, and servants to tend to their needs. Building materials and food and clothing had to be supplied by merchants, who made up a sort of in-between social class. They, in turn, needed people to build their shops and the much more modest homes middle-class families lived inâhouses cobbled together from wood and plaster, not more expensive stone. Still others were needed to prepare the food and sew the clothing the merchants sold to the rich, and these workers were paid very small salariesâpennies every week, not every dayâand their homes were really tiny huts, often with thatch roofs that would burn far too easily. And so the population of London always grew, with dozens of very poor people added for each rich one.
I walked through London after my conversation with Arthur. It was late November in 1622. Nicholas and Felix had been in America for almost two years. I missed my husband terribly, and, of course, I missed Felix, too. But as I walked, my thoughts were about the people and places I was seeing. What a difference there was between the lives of the rich and poor! Most of Londonâs streets were narrow and dirty. A few avenues were paved with cobblestones, but these were the ones that led directly to the fine mansions. Everyone else walked to and from their homes and jobs on paths of dirt. When it rained, the mud was ankle-deep. During dry weather, dust blew up into everyoneâs eyes, noses, and mouths. Garbage was everywhere. There were no organized pickups of trash. If you were lucky enough to have an apple to eat and not so hungry that youâd gulp down every bit of it, including the stem and seeds, then youâd toss the core into the street. It would lie there, swarming with flies, until it rotted away, or until it was gobbled by one of the hundreds of pigs that waddled around loose. Stray dogs and cats roamed everywhere, too, fighting beggars and cripples for bits of bread or cheese tossed from passing carriagesânot in charity, usually, but by someone riding along in comfort whoâd eaten his or her fill and was discarding the leftovers. And rats ate whatever the humans and other animals somehow missed.
As I approached the Thames, I saw that, as usual, its banks were lined with fishermen. The wide river teemed with salmon, trout, perch, and eels. Those who traded in seafood had boats and nets; they could go out in the deepest parts of the river
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