Of music there is a much nobler record. Never before had the people been such great lovers of music, and such admirable proficients. In every barber’s shop was hung a zither or a guitar; anybody played; everybody sang. Henry VIII. himself was a composer of no mean capability, and a performer equal to any. Elizabeth upon the virginals was unequalled. Many of the anthems and madrigals of the period survive to this day and are still sung. The music of the Chapel Royal was held to be better than anything of the kind in Western Europe. Would that the musical tastes and traditions of London had been preserved! They were destroyed by the Puritans. They were destroyed slowly but effectively. At the Restoration it was still the custom for gentlemen to play and sing; but not, apparently, for the trading and lower classes; during the last century, neither gentlefolk nor any other folk could play or sing; music ceased to be cultivated by the people. Nor have we yet, even, begun to be a people given to music; it is still comparatively rare to find boys who are taught to play any instrument; at no public school is it thought to be an essential part of education. Perhaps the twentieth century may witness a revival of the national love for music. CHAPTER IV GOG AND MAGOG It seems impossible to ascertain why these names were bestowed upon the City Giants. The prophet Ezekiel (chs. xxxviii. and xxxix.) prophesies against “Gog, the land of Magog, the Chief Prince of Meshech, and Tubal.” In the Book of Revelation (xx. 8) Satan goes out “to deceive the nations which are in the four quarters of the earth, Gog and Magog.” How were these names applied to City Giants? It was a common thing to have a City Giant who was carried in processions; there were giants at Chester, Salisbury, and Coventry; there were giants at Antwerp, Bruges, Ghent, Douai, Lille, and Brussels. The giants were in every case connected in some way with the legendary history of the City. But while every city had its own giant, who was brought out on festive occasions, this did not prevent the construction of other giants. Thus, after the victory of Agincourt, when Henry V. was received by a pageant of extraordinary splendour, a giant and a giantess stood on the Southwark end of London Bridge to greet him. The giant carried in his right hand an axe, and in the left the City keys, as if he were the porter of the town. In 1432, when Henry VI. came to England after his Coronation in France, there was another giant at London Bridge. He stood with drawn sword, and had at his side the following verses written out large:—