Already the Levantine was here, lithe and supple, black of eye, ready
of tongue, quick with his dagger; and the Italian, passionate and
eager; and the Spaniard, the Fleming, the Frenchman, and the Dutchman.
All nations were here, as now, but they were then kept on board their
ships or in their own quarters by night. The great merchants walked up
and down, conversing, heedless of the noise, to which their ears were
so accustomed as to be deaf to them. The merchants had reason to be
grave. Always there were wars and rumours of wars; always some pirate
from French shores was attacking their ships; their latest venture was
too often overdue--the ship had to run the gauntlet of the Algerian
galleys, and no one could tell what might have happened; there was
plague at Antwerp--it might be lurking in the bales lying on the quay
before them; there was civil war brewing; fortune is fickle--he who
was rich yesterday may be a beggar to-morrow. Merchants, in those
days, did well to be grave.
I have considered, so far, some of the great houses standing in or
along this historic street. Let us now note a few of the churches.
All Hallows, Barking, the first walking from the east, commemorates in
its name the fact that it formerly belonged to the great convent of
Barking in Essex, the gateway of which still stands at the entrance to
the churchyard.
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