Summary

Portrait of Walter Besant Walter Besant Mediæval London, Volume 2: Ecclesiastical

It is strange that an institution which played a large part in the social scheme of the Middle Ages should have fallen so completely into decay as to be absolutely forgotten by the people, so that there is not even a legend or a tradition of it left. The memory of Sanctuary is as clean lost and forgotten as that of Frank Pledge. Yet, three hundred years ago, the constant thought of debtor or malefactor was, that, if the worst came to the worst, he could fly to St. Martin’s or to Westminster and so escape the clink of Ludgate, or the gaol of Newgate.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Walter Besant Walter Besant Mediæval London, Volume 2: Ecclesiastical

There rides along the narrow street a monk with hawk on fist bravely dressed. Behind him walk his men leading the dogs. They are going to cross London Bridge and gain the wild heath country lying beyond the Southwark and Lambeth marshes. He regards preacher and crowd alike with scorn ineffable. It is the hour of Angelus—and from every parish church, from every monastery church, from every Chapel, from every College, and from the Cathedral, the bells call the world to silent prayer.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Walter Besant Walter Besant Mediæval London, Volume 2: Ecclesiastical

He is fat and well nourished; he has a full, rich voice and a certain rude oratory that lays hold of the people and constrains them to listen. There passes along the street, in a ragged gown, a lean and hungry chantry priest; he looks at the crowd round the preacher; he hears him talk the rough, strong East Saxon dialect which has always been the language of the London craftsman. He sighs, it is his own native patois, but he cannot talk as this man talks; he is a poor scholar, once a licensed beggar, and now a ragged, half-starved priest, having nothing but his little chantry endowment.
Source: Gutenberg

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