Troy and London go together. Such, at least, is the argument of many an early modern Lord Mayor's Show. Of twenty-seven extant mayoral texts from the period 1605-1639, nearly all invoke the model of New Troy, directly or indirectly, at some point.1 Quite why the link should be made is, perhaps, less clear. It is my argument here that this figure, invoked variously as Troia Nova, Troynovant or simply New Troy, operated in the mayoral pageants and civic writing in general as a shorthand signifier - a large finger pointing in the direction of a whole ream of civic discourse. The possible usefulness of such a signifier is not hard to imagine, and not simply in terms of a timesaver. Certain things about London cannot easily be said, especially when writing for the mayor, for a range of city aldermen with divergent interests, sometimes with a royal or foreign presence, and always with a large and diverse London crowd. As I shall demonstrate, by invoking the matter of Troy the mayoral pageants could conjure up equivocal or even subversive images while appearing to do just the opposite. By writing in the single word Troynovant, the pageant could draw on a range of themes and meanings built up outside of the particular text, allowing the suggestion of alternative ways of viewing and understanding the city. I begin, however, by outlining how and why the shows took up the idea of New Troy.How do you define a city? At the beginning of Thomas Dekker's Britannia's Honor, his mayoral pageant of 1628, the writer attempts to do just that, spending a good amount of time explaining early modern London.2 Somewhat stubbornly, Dekker moves through various iterations of the city - chamber royal, mistress of science, mother of Westminster, home of parliament, nurse to the country, admiral of the navy - at some length. She is a 'Golden-Key', a 'Store-house', a 'Magazine of Merchandize' (10). Amongst the many metaphorical means of understanding the city, however, one stands out. Dekker, it seems, does not forget the clear importance of ancient Troy to seventeenth-century London, confidently averring of the city that 'Troy has leap'd out of her own Cinders, to build Her Wals' (12-13). Quite what this particular metaphor accomplishes is unclear. On the one hand, the ancient ancestry of London points to her present magnificence. On the other, the mention of cinders might speak less of phoenix-like rebirth for the burnt city of Troy, than of the looming threat for London of a fiery repetition. Perhaps the oddest thing, though, and the main subject of the opening portion of this article, is that the connection is made at all.That Dekker, in late 1628, could so glibly refer to the ancient city of Troy as a direct antecedent of London demands at least a little explanation. The idea was simple enough: Brutus, descendant of Aeneas, had after numerous adventures and misadventures through Europe arrived at the isle of Albion, renaming it Britain and founding the beginnings of present civilisation. While doing so, he had also founded the greatest jewel of that civilisation, London. Such a founding myth was not individual to either London or Britain: many cities and countries throughout Europe had had similar stories concerning their origins. They had also let go of such stories a good century prior to Dekker's writing. As Philip Schwyzer has commented, 'the continued allegiance of the English to Brutus the Trojan ... made them a laughing-stock among continental scholars'.3 At the same time, historians and antiquarians in Britain had decidedly mixed feelings on the relevance of Troy. Forty years previous to Dekker's use of the history in Britannia's Honor, William Camden's Britannia (1586) dismissed the link between London and Troy as nothing short of fairytale, even as it allows for the potential usefulness of such a tale:For mine owne part, let Brutus be taken for the father and founder of the British nation; I will not be of a contrarie minde . …
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