London, Volume 4
Knight, Charles
1843
XCI.-Old St. Paul's.
XCI.-Old St. Paul's.
In our account of we had occasion to notice the intimate connexion that exists between the history of some of our chief cathedrals and the history of the growth in England of the faith and the worship to which they were devoted. Foremost among such structures stands old . Here is a scene which there is every reason to believe took place in it, after the apparently complete establishment of Christianity in and around the metropolis by the erection of and : Sebert, the founder of , was now dead. says Bede, The church in which this remarkable scene is presumed to have taken place had been erected by Ethelbert, King of Kent, only some years before, or, according to Bede, at the joint expense of that king and of Sebert, his nephew, the governor of this part of England under Ethelbert; and by whom it was dedicated to St. Paul, the apostle and doctor of the Gentiles. How many churches there may not have been prior to this it is impossible to say, but in all probability there had been at least or , and the traditions and speculations concerning them are of no ordinary character. | |
Although Wren, as we have seen in the account of , was incredulous both as to the Temple of Apollo at Thorney (), and that of Diana on the site of the present , it appears he found no difficulty in believing a circumstance much more interesting, but, we must add also, infinitely more difficult. He observes, in the He does not, in words, state that the earliest metropolitan church was thus founded, but the inference is natural, and no doubt he meant it to be drawn. The evidences he adduces are not very forcible, consisting, , of the well-known fact that the apostle spent several years and, secondly, of the lines from Vanutius Fortunatus's poem on the life of St. Martin- circumstances too slight to be worthy of much consideration, when we consider how nearly the sacred writings enable us to follow the route taken by St. Paul on each of his principal journeys; and yet that we find there no indications of such a visit. The true period of the foundation of the Christian church in London, and perhaps the in England, and which there is little doubt was on | |
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the site of the present , seems to us to be pointed out by the story, partly fabulous and partly true, which the early monastic writers give of the introduction of Christianity among us. According to them, there was a King Lucius, sovereign of the whole island, who, having been baptized at the solicitation of the reigning Emperor of Rome, became so zealous a convert as to send to Eleutherius, Bishop of Rome, desiring spiritual assistance for himself and his people. Here we are among the fables. That no king reigned over the whole island at the period alluded to, we may be tolerably sure from the tenor of all the records we possess; but, on the other hand, that some British prince may have been converted (perhaps, as it has been suggested, by fugitives from the Roman persecutions), and may have sought such assistance, is sufficiently credible, and may prevent our rejecting the circumstantial statements that follow. We are told that, about the year , Pope Eleutherius sent Faganus and Damianus, to instruct the people of this country in Christianity, and to consecrate such churches as had been dedicated to divers false gods to the service of the true God. The island was in consequence divided into parts, and placed under the jurisdiction of the sees of London, York, and Caerlon. Both direct and indirect testimony tend to corroborate the truth of this part of the story. Tertullian, writing about the year , remarks and in we find, among the ecclesiastical dignitaries met in council at Aries in France, Restitutus, Bishop of London. We may consider, then, the latter part of the century as the period of the erection of the great church in the city of London. This edifice is supposed to have been destroyed during the persecution of the Christians under the Emperor Dioclesian, then restored or rebuilt on the return of prosperity, to be subjected, in the or century, to a worse fate than destruction at the hands of the pagan Saxons and Angles, who were overrunning the country; for, according to the remarkable words of the ancient monk of ,[n.243.1] Flete, then And this brings us to the tradition which Sir Christopher Wren so summarily dismisses, because he did not find any decisive indication of the said temple when he turned over the ground in preparing the foundations of his structure. In the paper on the Abbey before mentioned, we expressed, incidentally, a concurrence in his view, which farther examination does not warrant. His argument is simply a negative . He found no remains of sacrifices--no fragments of cornices or capitals that might reveal the Roman handiwork-nothing to tell of a temple to Diana. To this it might be answered, that the repeated- pullings down and buildings up which had taken place on the site, before he had anything to do with it, may have swept away the vestiges he sought. But did he discover nothing? What were those foundations, consisting of ? His answer is to be found in his expressed belief that they were the |
244 | foundations of the Christian church, the we have referred to as destroyed during the Dioclesian persecution; but, as to the grounds of this belief, he leaves us entirely in the dark. He is satisfied these foundations are Roman, that they are anterior to the reign of Constantine (when he presumes they were again built upon), and yet he finds nothing to countenance the belief that there was a Roman temple of Diana ever standing here; whilst at the same time it is well known that circular erections, and more particularly for temples of the very kind in question, were common among the Romans, both as parts of or as forming entire structures! What, then, did stand upon these massive walls?-Why, we are to suppose a Christian church built by Roman hands, with a semicircular chancel, in imitation of the Roman basilica, a century or before we hear of any such buildings even in the imperial city itself, and in the face of the fact :that the merit (if it may be so called) of building the of these Christian basilicae is expressly assigned to Constantine. Let us now see what another writer, who is justly placed at the head of English antiquaries, and what his editor, say of the tradition. In Bishop Gibson's edition of Camden there is a peculiarly rich and romantic passage on this subject, which also opens to us other speculations connected with the early history of , that will be new to most of our readers:-- In conclusion, it is observed the opinion ought not [n.245.1] Upon the whole, it appears to us that, putting aside the consideration of what Sir Christopher did not discover, and remembering what his predecessors did-weighing the corroborative testimony of the tradition, which can be traced to a very distant period, and of the undoubted fact that it was not only a custom with the early Christians to convert the heathen temples into Christian churches, but that the very men, Faganus and Damianus, to whom we are, probably indebted for the foundation of the earliest church here, were, as we have seen, especially sent to consecrate such buildings to the service of the true faith-we are surely justified in thinking it highly probable that the tradition is true enough, after all. |
With Mellitus had fled also Justus, Bishop of Rochester; and Laurentius, Archbishop of Canterbury, Augustine's faithful disciple, was about to followthem, when, according to Bede, a miracle was vouchsafed to prevent so great a calamity to the worshippers of Christ in England. On the night previous to Laurentius' intended departure, he slept in a church, where, at midnight, of the apostles appeared to him, and, after reproaching him for his lack of zeal, gave him a severe flagellation. In the morning Laurentius went to Ethelbert's son and successor, Eadbald, who had relapsed into idolatry, and, throwing off his cloak, displayed his bloody shoulders. The succeeded, and Eadbald recalled the exiled bishops. To return to the cathedral; it appears-that, though it was erected in the beginning of the century, the disturbed state of the country, and the unsettled standing of the faith itself, did not at permit much expenditure of time or money in its adornment. Erkenwald, the son of King Offa, the bishop from Mellitus, was the to supply the deficiencies. He not only procured privileges from the reigning kings of England, and from the Pope, but spent a considerable portion of his own estate in adding to the funds provided for the improvement of the fabric. Among other and subsequent benefactors may be enumerated Kenred, King of the Mercians, who ordained that it should be in all things as free as he himself desired to be in the day of judgment ;[n.245.2] Athelstan, who endowed it with numerous lordships; Edgar and his Queen, Aethelred, Canute, and the pious Confessor. Then came the Conquest; and during the short struggle that preceded William's coronation as King of England, rude hands laid hold of some of its possessions; but the politic Norman had not come to war with the Church; so had everything restored, and received at the same time a charter from the hands of the King, dated the very day of his coronation,, conferring the whole of its property to it in perpetuity. The Conqueror added his benedictions to all who- should augment the revenues, and his curses on those who should diminish them. | |
During this reign the church was burnt, and a new commenced by Bishop Maurice towards the close of the century. We need hardly observe that, since the erection of the previous edifice, architecture had made a great advance. (the Confessor's building) had just been erected; | |
246 | Lincoln was now in progress of erection by the able and indefatigable Remigius. The eminent ecclesiastics of that day appear to have been inspired with a noble spirit of emulation, each striving to outstrip his fellows in raising those architectural wonders which we gaze on with admiration and awe, but seem unable to rival, or even finely to imitate. Let us not be understood to mean that we attribute any considerable portion of the grandeur or beauty of those edifices to the rivalry, however honourable, of their builders. Never, in the history of the world, have there been works which speak more eloquently or unmistakably of the loftiness of the hearts and minds of their authors. For, if even the profusion with which rich men lavished their wealth, able men their skill, and poor men their labour, be liable to misconstruction as regards motives, there can be no possibility of mistake as to the influences that produced sublimity out of stone and marble, that made ranges of arches, tier upon tier, appear even to the dullest eye, when informed by faith, as
was prepared to lift them up. Indeed, were it possible to imagine all records of Christianity to have perished, except our cathedrals, from them alone how much of the faith might not be recovered! Bishop Maurice now felt in all its power the responsibility which the opportunity offered imposed upon him. His zeal is said to have been quickened also by the consideration of some injury he had earlier in life done to the church, for which he now desired to atone. In the same fire that burnt , the castle known as the Palatine Tower had suffered. In consequence, the materials were placed at Maurice's disposal. He now laid out his plan and began the foundations, which were designed for so extensive and magnificent a structure, that the good bishop could have hardly hoped to live to see the whole finished. But, in the language of Wordsworth- So Maurice went patiently and courageously on for the years he lived, and then left the completion as a noble bequest to his successors. William of Malmesbury about this time describes the church as being Maurice was succeeded by Richard de Beaumeis, of whose character it may be sufficient to adduce illustration: he bestowed the entire revenues of his bishopric on the edifice, and maintained himself and family by other means. His share of the work seems to have been the completion of the walls, enlarging the exterior space by the purchase and pulling down of houses that encumbered the pile, and the erection of a strong wall of enclosure, which extended as far as and on side, and to , , and , on the other. Scarcely, however, does the entire edifice seem to have been completed before architecture had again made such progress, that a work a century old was no longer able to satisfy our magnificent-minded churchmen. As we find Henry III., through a considerable portion of his reign, |
247 | pulling down and rebuilding the Confessor's erection at , so do we find his subjects in various places imitating his example, and more particularly at . In a new steeple was finished, and in a new choir. This was dedicated in the presence of Henry, attended by Otto, the Pope's legate, and the most eminent of the English ecclesiastics. The mode in which the money was obtained for these works is an interesting part of the history of Old . The prime mover in and skilful designer of the whole business was Bishop Roger, surnamed Niger. Having no king or other great benefactor to depend upon, he formed the determination of obtaining what he wanted from the people of England and Ireland. Accordingly he induced the general body of British bishops to issue letters to the clergy and others under their jurisdiction, granting indulgences for a certain number of days to all those who, having penance to perform, and, being penitent, should assist the new work. Dugdale speaks of seeing a multitude of such letters written at the period and for the edifice in question. How cheerfully the people answered this and similar appeals we perceive in the completion, not only of the works mentioned, but of the addition of --an entirely new portion to the east end, including the subterranean church of St. Faith, which was begun, in , by Fulco Basset, the then bishop. Nor was this all. The adornment of the interior of a cathedral in the middle ages, with pictures, shrines, books, ecclesiastical habiliments, all more or less blazing with gold, silver, and precious stones, was a work scarcely less necessary to the prevalent ideas, and little less costly, than the erection of the edifice itself. How these matters had been cared for, we shall see in the glimpse of Old in |
248 | its greatest splendour that we shall now endeavour to obtain; The period we have in view is the beginning of the century. |
Let the reader imagine himself passing up the hill from the moderately broad and rapid , with its numerous vessels riding quietly at anchor, then through Lud gate, and so to the entrance into the cathedral enclosure. The place is crowded with people, chiefly of the poorer classes, who are being fed by the ecclesiastical officers. It is evidently a day of high festival--no less, indeed, than the festival of the Conversion of the patron saint, Paul. Before we pass through the sumptuous western gates of the cathedral, let us cast a momentary glance at the Bishop's palace in the right-hand corner--a fit home for, the prelate who has for his church. Here it was that Edward III. and his Queen were lodged after the great tournament in Smithfield; and, as Froissart tells us, But we must pass on into the cathedral before the great business of the day begins. We enter, and are at once fixed in amaze-, ment at the scene of enchantment suddenly visible. An apparently endless perspective of lofty arches, lost in the distance in a luminous mist--a confused blaze of many-coloured streams of light-great numbers of persons, in all kinds of dresses, moving to and fro-sublime sounds-,at once press upon and bewilder the attention. As we gaze more steadily, that wonderful perspective becomes gradually clear, until at last, for nearly , we can follow the range-unbroken, from the tessellated marble pavement below, to the roof with its gilded groins above--of arches upon arches, and of the dim but richly-coloured painted windows at the top. The only, and that very slight, interruption is the low screen which crosses the pavement there, far down, probably about the centre of the pile. The glorious vista is terminated by a rose window of great size, but appearing from hence scarcely larger than the flower from which it borrows its name; whilst its colours, though revelling in the intensest of dyes, appear mingled into glowing but nameless hue. As the eye wanders from this, the impressive feature of the place, it falls upon the huge lighted tapers on the different altars that we see scattered about the nave and aisles, then to the'kneeling people before them--here a large group, there a solitary individual. As we pace along the nave, and the transepts open on either hand, magnificent shrines lining the walls, tall crosses with tapers before them, and gorgeous pictures, are seen at every step. There seems no end to the wealth that has been lavished upon the place. Gold, silver, rubies, emeralds, pearls, begin even to lose their value from their profusion. A kind of low confused hum pervades the church, above which may be continually distinguished the voices of the priests, who are performing the duties of their respective chantries, scattered along the entire length of the nave, aisles, and transepts, or in number; whilst, grandly towering over all, we hear the chant and responses of the choral multitude. The cathedral is now rapidly becoming full. Noblemen, warriors, citizens, and labourers, arrayed in all kinds of materials-satin, damask, cloth of gold and silver, and the plain but good old English broad-cloth of wool of different | |
249 | colourstheir dresses exhibiting every variety of fashion, as little hoods, long gowns, short coats, long piked shoes, particoloured hose-and ornamented in so many cases with costly gems and embroidery, that, as Knighton observes, Nor are the ladies generally less fantastically or less sumptuously arrayed, though, with the tact which seems seldom to desert them, they have taken care not to obscure their native gracefulness of form. Here is a group that is seen for a moment by |
| our side. Master Inighton's words are of course to be taken with a little allowance. There is no mistaking the very poor in any time, place, or country. It is ,pleasant, however, to see that their poverty is forgotten here by all--ay, even by themselves. The preparations for the coming festivity are now begun. Noiseless figures are gliding to and fro, setting up additional tapers in every part of the church where there is room and convenience for placing them; but a short time elapses, and hundreds of such lights are burning in every direction. Hark! the sound of horns blown more loudly than skilfully reverberates through the pile; and, as if it were some wizard's signal, there is a general cessation of the devotional business of the place. The devotee starts from his knees, the penitent sinner wipes the tears from his cheeks, the grave become gay, the gloomy look cheerful, as all eagerly press forward, and line the intercolumniations of the nave, in a single row, then a behind that, then a , till both aisles are filled, and little more than a lane is left for the passage of the coming procession down the central part of the nave. The officers with their gilded staves have to bestir themselves even to keep that clear. Again and again blow the horns, the western doors are thrown back, and a strange procession enters, consisting of a group of horn-blowers, then a body of ruddy-cheeked yeomen and others, bearing, on a kind of frame raised aloft, the doe, which the family of Baud are bound yearly to offer in procession at the high altar on this day, in | |
250 | addition to a buck on the summer feast called the Commemoration of St. Paulboth being in lieu of certain lands granted to Sir William Baud, in the year of Edward I., by the Church, to be enclosed within his park of Toringham in Essex. Immediately before the doe-bearers marches proudly the keeper, or huntsman--a man who might have sat to the author of the
for the portrait in the prologue:--
On moves the procession towards the choir, which it enters, and so unto the steps of the high altar at its extremity. There it is met by the dean and chapter, arrayed in rich copes and robes, jewelled and embroidered, and wearing garlands of roses on their heads. The head of the doe is now divided from the body, and, whilst the body is at once sent off to be baked, the head is fixed on a spear, and borne before the cross in the usual daily procession, which now starts towards the western door. This reached, the keeper makes the whole neighbourhood ring again with his lusty horn, and, before the sound has well died away, it is answered from different quarters of the city by similar instruments. All the parties are now dismissed, with a small present in money, to their dinners, provided by the dean and chapter, whilst the keeper will also have to receive his customary and his loaf of bread, bearing the image of St. Paul, before he returns to his parks and chase. So ends this portion of the business of the day; but the most splendid is yet to come: the commemoration of St. Erkenwald's burial in the cathedral, where, we are told, his It will be only sufficient to mention, by way of testimony of the truth of this statement, that it is believed the very litter in which he was borne about during his last sickness continued for ages to cure feverish persons who merely touched it, and, when broken up, every chip became an infallible physician. Again, through the western door comes a procession, winding from the bishop's palace; this time the bishop himself at its head, preceded by beautiful children bearing tapers, having the dean on his right hand, other distinguished officers of the church on his left, and followed by nearly all the clergy of his diocese; with all the customary paraphernalia of the Church processions during such high solemnities. The sumptuousness of their appearance beggars description. The bishop wears a long, snow-white robe, almost concealing his feet; |
251 | above which is another of ruby-coloured silk reaching a little below the knees, open at the sides, embroidered all over in the most exquisite manner with representations of animals, birds, and flowers, and having a deep border, which consists chiefly of rows of interlaced pearls. From the low, upright collar of this upper robe, down the centre of the front, to the bottom, extends a band formed of entire mass of precious stones, of different colours, and arranged in a variety of close patterns. The golden mitre on his head, and the golden pastoral staff in his hand, are each similarly ornamented. Towards the shrine of St. Erkenwald slowly moves the procession, amidst the fragrant perfumes shed around by the incense-bearers from their silver censers; now up the nave, thence through of the aisles, and so round to the shrine at the back of the high altar. This is the most gorgeous piece of combined architecture, sculpture, and decoration even in a cathedral so rich in such works. Rising from behind a kind of table covered with jewels and precious stones of all kinds, including small shrines, rings, and silver girdles, the gifts of the pious, appears a lofty, pyramidal, Gothic structure, in the purest and most exquisitely decorated style; the outlines formed by pinnacles rising above another towards a single pinnacle in the centre at the top, and the central portion consisting of slender windows side by side, and an exceedingly elegant filling the triangular space above. A railing encloses the whole for the preservation of the invaluable treasures lying on the table within, or that have been used in the adornment of the shrine. Among the former we may find the sapphire stone which Richard de Preston, citizen and grocer of London, gave to be placed here for the curing of infirmities in the eyes, appointing at the same time that proclamation should be made of its virtues. Solemn masses for the repose of the dead are now said; the indulgences granted to all who visit the shrine, and to those who bring oblations, are explained. The words fall upon no dull or unheeding ears. They come pressing forward, rich and poor, lay and ecclesiastic, depositing their gifts of money or jewels; or whatever else the tastes or means of the owners instigate; the very poorest having at least a taper for their favourite shrine. |
All is still at last. Prelates, clergy, choristers, have gone; the lights, save those which burn perpetually before the different chantries, shrines, and altars, are extinguished; the rich western window, lit up by a sudden burst of sunshine, seems to glow with preternatural radiance and splendour, and throws its warm light far along the pavement, and, catching the edge of the gilded crucifix raised aloft in the centre of the nave, makes it appear even more brilliant than the beams of the taper burning by its side. | |
Occasionally other processions occupied the public attention. In the reign of Edward III. the wondering spectators were surprised by the appearance of the Flagellants, who, spreading themselves all over Europe, arrived in London from Italy, to the number of about . says Lingard,[n.251.1]
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At the close of these exciting exhibitions, some few persons may yet linger in the church-Wickliffites perhaps, who have looked impatiently upon the scenes we have described, and therefore stay to enjoy the natural influences of the place; with a mixture of the idle, who have yet an hour or to spare; and of strangers from the country, who may be known by their gait, oor costume, or at least by the busy air with which they walk round from chantry to chantry, tomb to tomb, to gaze on the wonders of which'they have heard so much. We cannot do better than imitate their example. , then, we have here on the right of the nave, as we approach the choir, the sculptured image of Our Lady, with its lamp constantly burning, and where the officers of the church are- extinguishing the numerous small tapers which have been placed there by the pious during the day, claiming the remnant as their perquisite. The iron box for oblations under the feet of the statue seems to be nearly full of coins.--Behind this statue is the low tomb of Sir John Beauchamp, of the founders of the Order of the Garter, and a son of the renowned Guy Earl of Warwick. His effigy, in complete armour, lies on the top, and beautifully painted and sculptured shields decorate the front of the tomb below. A few steps farther, and we stand below the tower of the church, supported on arches, that seem to spring as lightly upward as though they bore nothing, instead of a tower and steeple of almost incredible height. , the square tower soars upwards for feet; then begins the spire (of wood covered with lead), which mounts more; or, in all, feet! In the south aisle, at the end against the chapel of St. Dunstan, which forms the extreme south-east corner of the building, are, side by side, the low tombs sunk in the wall, with a range of slender pillars supporting beautiful arches in front, and the effigies of Eustace de Fauconberge, Justice of the Common Pleas in the reign of John, and Henry de Wengham, Chancellor to Henry III.-both Bishops of London. In St. Dunstan's Chapel is the tomb of Henry de Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, a great benefactor to the cathedral, but better known to history as Edward I.'s able lieutenant in his Scottish expeditions. As a work of art this is perhaps the finest thing in the place. The effigy is evidently a portrait, and a most masterly , of the simple, unadorned, but dignified warrior. The sides and ends of the tomb below are mass of beautiful decoration consisting of a great number of figures in niches with Gothic canopies. The centre of the extremity of the church at this end we find occupied by Our Lady's Chapel, on the floor of which lies an exquisitely wrought representation of Bishop Braybrooke. But the chief object is the altar of Our Lady, with the tapers weighing each , which are lighted during all celebrations in the chapel, with the | |
253 | ponderous silver chalice, and with the rich vestments for the officiating priests. A female is kneeling before it, come, no doubt, to avail herself of the days' indulgence granted to all penitents who here say a Pater Noster, or an Ave, or give anything to the altar. We cross now to the north aisle, where the monument that attracts us is the to the memory of Ralph de Hengham, Judge of the King's Bench in the reign of Edward I.; and next to whom is the monument of the distinguished knight, Sir Simon Burley. The melancholy fate of this accomplished man must not be passed over without a word. He was the friend of Edward III. and of the Black Prince, the guardian and tutor of Richard II., who, with his queen, Anne of Bohemia, held him in especial love and honour. During the intrigues and contentions for power between the King (acting secretly through his partisans) and his powerful uncle, Thomas Duke of Gloucester, younger brother of John of Gaunt, the Duke, in , obtained a decisive triumph, and immediately sent to the scaffold several of Richard's chief advisers. Among these was Sir Simon Burley. Richard spoke warmly in his favour, but was told his crown depended upon the execution taking place. He was but years of age, it should be observed, at the time. The Queen still more earnestly interceded in his favour, soliciting Sir Simon's life on her knees, but in vain. Even Henry of Bolingbroke, who had aided Gloucester in all the transactions referred to (possibly even then thinking of the crown that might be won in the confusion that seemed likely to ensue), was equally unsuccessful in his pleading. For this, indeed, the future King is said to have never forgiven his uncle. Further on in the same aisle we find the most ancient memorials of , the tombs of kings, Sebba and Ethelred, which tell in their very aspectof the rude age to which they belong. Sebba, we learn from the tablet close at hand, was King of the East Saxons, and converted by Erkenwald A. D. . His neighbour monarch in death is Ethelred the Unready, son of Edgar and the infamous Elfrida, Edgar's wife, who prepared the way for her son to the throne by the murder of his elder brother, the righful heir, Edward the Martyr. Ethelred's reign was in accordance with the commencement. He has the honour of having systematised a lucrative branch of trade for our neighbours the Danes, that of landing on our territory whenever they were unusually poor or more than commonly covetous, and rewarding them for their pillages, and burnings, and slaughter, by a good round acknowledgment in the shape, the time, of some of silver, before they went home again. Of course, when they did take the trouble to return hither, Ethelred could not but meet such attention to him and his people by increased rewards, so that the became , on a occasion , a , a . But the Danes, it must be acknowledged, were as ungrateful as foolish; like the boy in the fable, they could not be content without cutting up the source of their wealth; so Sweyn, their king, must be our king, and Ethelred becomes an exile. On Sweyn's death Ethelred is recalled, promises to be somewhat more of a hero, and Canute, Sweyn's son, for the time bends before the storm raised against his countrymen by the English. Scarcely a year, however, elapses, when Ethelred, sick in bed in London, hears of Canute's arrival at the very gates; and-dies. In the same tomb probably lie the remains of Ethelred's |
254 | grandson, Edward the Atheling, or the Outlaw; as he was called, son of Edmund Ironside, who redeemed the national honour which his father had degraded, and became of the great popular heroes of Saxon England. Edward, who had lost the kingdom by the arrangement between his father and Canute, that whoever lived longest should succeed to the other's share of the divided kingdom, might probably have regained it, had his namesake, the Confessor, favoured his cause. He did send for him from his exile, to the great gratification of the people, but when he came would not see him. Whilst in this peculiar state of suspense, waiting to see whether he was to return to a joyless banishment, or stay to mount the throne of mighty England, he died in London-poisoned, it was thought, by Harold, though on no heavier grounds than suspicion. He was buried in . |
Turning the corner from the aisle, we stand before the beautifully-decorated screen of the choir, and, ascending the lofty flight of steps, enter. Facing us, at the farther end, is the high altar, railed off by a broad and massive carved and gilded balustrade. The altar itself is a splendid piece of workmanship, and, like most of the other objects of interest and value that surround us, owes its chief features to private beneficence. That sumptuous tablet, covered with decorations in enamel, and statues, the whole within a carved canopy of oak, and richly set out with curious pictures, was the gift of Richard Pikerell, a citizen of Edward II.'s reign. Among the countless riches of gold, silver, and jewels on the altar, the basons of gold offered by the French King John appear conspicuous.[n.254.1] Silver phials, silver candlesticks, lofty silver-gilt cups with covers, silver crosses, golden cups, illuminated missals, &c., are among the other contents of the altar. [n.254.2] To the right of the altar another and more pretending work of art challenges the attention. This is a great picture of St. Paul, richly painted, and placed in a beautiful of wood, costing no less than of the money of the century. On the left side of the choir are monuments, all remarkable for their beauty or grandeur, and of them also as belonging to a most remarkable man. The is the shrine of the Bishop, Roger Niger, before mentioned; the , the oratory of Roger de Waltham, a canon of the cathedral, of the time of the Edward. This was founded by himself in honour of God, Our Lady, St. Lawrence, and All Saints, and adorned, as we now see, The same tasteful canon erected that which we see in the opposite wall (in the southern aisle), and which contains the image of the said Blessed Virgin, | |
255 | above which is are seen Lastly, we may observe that Roger de Waltham especially provided that no part of the oratory, not even its roof, should be without He also founded a chantry in the oratory on the same magnificent scale, at which the dean and chapter were to officiate, coming in solemn procession, and arrayed as at all the great festivals. The other monument to which we referred is John of Gaunt's; interesting in itself, as a truly magnificent piece of Gothic sculpture --still more so from its connexion with the man, whose effigy, with that of Blanche his wife (the subject of Chaucer's grateful muse), lies beneath that exquisitely fretted canopy. Athwart the slender octagonal pillars hangs his tilting-spear, with his ducal cap of state, and his shield. But the great warrior, all-powerful noble, father, brother, and uncle of kings-nay, himself claiming to be a king (of Castile)-has a title still nobler as the friend and patron of the greatest men of his age, Wickliffe and Chaucer. |
witnessed a memorable scene in. connexion with John of Gaunt's patronage of the Church reformer. On the , Wickliffe was cited to appear before his ecclesiastical superiors, sitting in solemn convocation at , to answer certain charges of innovation and heresy. To the surprise of all parties not previously aware of what was intended, on the day appointed Wickliffe came with a magnificent train, comprising no less personages than John of Gaunt, the Earl Marshal-Percy, and numerous other persons, their friends or retainers. The Archbishop Sudbury presided, and Courteney, Bishop of London, conducted the prosecution; but this prelate, irritated at the arrival of such visitors, which augured ill for the success of his endeavours against Wickliffe, seems to have been in an irritable mood; nor did the opposite party fail to give him cause for irritation. An undignified but interesting and characteristic squabble took place, and the meeting broke up in confusion. But the business of the day unfortunately does not end here. Rumours had been circulated by the party opposed at once to the Duke in political intrigue, and to Wickliffe in religion, that a proposition had been just brought before Parliament by Thomas of Woodstock, the Duke's brother, and the Earl Marshal, to annul the institution of a mayoralty for the city of London, and to place the civic government in the hands of a captain under the Earl Marshal's direction. The credulous mob were further exasperated by the story told of a threat uttered by the Duke, that he would drag the Bishop out of the cathedral by the hair of his head. A meeting of the citizens, on the subject of their liberties, is said to have been called on the day after the citation; and while these were deliberating, the mob cut the matter short, in their usual decisive mode of arguing, by proceeding | |
256 | in a body to the house of the Earl Marshal, where they forced the gates, set a prisoner at liberty, and searched the house for Lord Percy. He was not found, however; and they proceeded to the Savoy, the Duke's palace, where they committed similar outrages, and would probably have anticipated the destruction of that splendid building by Wat Tyler's followers, but for the interference of the Bishop himself, in whose cause they no doubt fancied they were very bravely exerting themselves. Courteney, by his remonstrances, induced them to withdraw, when they went and amused themselves by the more innocent pleasantry of hanging up the Duke's arms, reversed, traitor fashion, in different parts of London. . |
The last feature of the cathedral that we can notice in this hurried glimpse is atablet hung up in the choir, on which is written in large characters the measurements of the edifice, as taken accurately in ; when the length was found to contain feet, the breadth , the height of the nave , and the length of the same . The ball on the top of the spire ( feet high) was large enough to contain bushels of corn, and had a cross on the top of that, making the entire height feet. The space of ground occupied by the building was found to measure acres and a half, rood and a half, and perches. | |
Such, in its palmy days, was Old . | |
Footnotes: [n.243.1] See p. 66 of this volume. [n.245.1] Edition folio, 1722, vol. i., p. 331. [n.245.2] A similar passage occurs in one of the Conqueror's charters, [n.251.1] Hist. England vol. iii. chap. 18. [n.254.1] This visit took place in 1360, and it appears that, besides an oblation of twelve nobles at St. Erkenwald's shrine and the bason of gold at the high altar, at his first approach to it, he laid down at the Annunciation twelve nobles; at the crucifix near the north door, twenty-six florin nobles; at the hearing of mass, after the offertory, to the dean then officiating, five florin nobles; and lastly, to the chapter-house, for distribution among the officers of the church, fifty florin nobles.-Dugdale. [n.254.2] The mere enumeration of the wealth of the cathedral in such and similar articles of still greater value occupies twenty-eight pages of the last folio edition of Dugdale. |
