pilllllitljll / I 1 I iiili h lllftltlllifll-. SAINT PAUL'S. LONDON : PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODB AND CO., NEW-STBEET SQUARE AND PARLIAMENT STREET ' > 1 1 : > > ) 1 > 1 ) J t> * > > } O 1 3 > o > > .» St Paul's from the River HANDBOOK TO THE CATHEDRALS OF ENGLAND. SAINT PAUL'S. it|f lUiistratiottB. HI > * LONDON: JQHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 1879. * • c s ft e 0' •• • a • » • • • • « • • • • • • • NOTE, This Handbook is, essentially, an abridged edition of Dean Milman's * Annals of St. Paul's,' of which the text has been as far as possible retained unaltered. The material, however, has been re-arranged and some further architectural and other details have been added, in order to make the work consistent with the other volumes of this series of * Handbooks for English Cathedrals,' to bring it down to the present time, and to adapt it as a guide for visitors to the Cathedral. Constant reference has also been made to * A History of the Three Cathedrals dedicated to St. Paul in Lon- don,' by the late William Longman, which contains a full account of the three successive fabrics, based upon a careful survey of the older authorities. For the convenience of visitors to St. Paul's it may be well to state that the description of the Present Build- ing is contained in Sections XL. to XLYII. ; of the Monuments in Sections LX. to LXVIII., and of the Crypt in Sections LXIX. and LXX. LIST OF ILLUSTEATIONS. -•o*- Tofaeep. I. Plan of St. Paul's as it is, including Position of Principal Monuments .... 97 n. Plan as originally designed by Sir Chris- topher Wren 58 in. Plan of Old St. Paul's, showing Traces of Foundations discovered 1879. At the end of Vol. From a Survey by Frank Penrose, Esq. rV. Sir Christopher Wren 54 From a Portrait by ELneller in the Gallery of the Royal Society. V. View of present Cathedral from the River . Title VI. View of Old St. Paul's from the North-east, showing the Cross 12 VII, View of Old St. Paul's, showing Inigo Jones's Portico 28 Vm. Tomb of John of Gaunt and of Constance his Wife 38 IX. Monument of John de Beauchamp in Old St. Paul's (commonly called the Tomb of ' Duke Humphrey ') 39 X, Monument of Dean Donne in his Shroud . 40 XI. Fragment of Sir Nicholas Bacon's Tomb, preserved in Crypt 42 XII. Side Elevation, as shown in Model of First Design .57 Xm. View of present Cathedral from the West . 70 «■• VUl LIST OF ILLTJSTRATIOIfS. To face p. XIV. Vaulting of Choir Roof .... 74 XV. Under the Dome at Evening Service . . 95 XVI. Window in South Aisle of Choir, with Dean IMilman's Monument 101 XVII. Sarcophagus enclosing the Body of the Duke of Wellington 106 XVni. The Wellington Monument . . . .107 XIX. Church of St. Faith, underneath Old St. Paul's 112 XX. Tomb of Sir Christopher Wren, in the Crypt 113 XXI. East End of Crypt , . . . .115 ST. PAUL'S. PART L •r ^ 3uUt% nil ^thiU. V I. The Cathedral of St. Paul stands on a site which might seem designated and predestined for Divine worship. Almost all, if not all, heathen religions affect high places for the temples of their gods. If, then, there was indeed a British city where London now stands, we might not unreasonably suppose that this spacious and commanding eminence might have been chosen for the celebration of the barbarous re- ligious rites. If any faith could be placed in Druidism, as described by the Koman writers, and embellished by later poetry, we might lead forth the white-robed priests in their long procession, with their attendant bards, their glittering harps and sounding hymns, from the oak-clad heights to the north of London, to offer their sacrifices — bloody human sacrifices — or more innocent oblations of the fruits of the earth — on that hill-top, from which anthems have so long risen to the Redeemer of mankind. B 2 ^f. ^HuFs. But Geoffrey of Monmouth's gi'eat Trinobantine city, the ' Troy-novant ' of later romance, has long vanished into thin air; and London, more modest, must content itself with the fame of being an early and rapidly flourishing colony of our Roman con- querors. It cannot justly aspire to an earlier date than the reign of Claudius; and for that date we have the weighty authority of Tacitus.* There seems evidence, not to be contested, that on this eminence was a Roman praetorian camp to defend and to command the rising city below. That a Ro- man temple should stand beside, or in the neighbour- hood of, the strong military position, is no great demand on our belief. In height and strength no eminence, in what was then London, could compare with the spacious esplanade on which St. Paul's stands. II. So soon as Christianity attained to strength and ascendancy in the Roman world, it would find its way into the provinces, even to the most remote, in all likelihood noiselessly and 'without observation.' Sober history has long dismissed the fable of Joseph of Arimathsea, even of St. Paul, preaching in Britain. The Apostle, in the time of the Emperor Nero, would have found only a fierce and still doubtful conflict be- tween the Roman legions and the yet barbarous and » * At Suetonius . . . Londinium perrexit, cognomento quidem colonia3 non insigne, sed copia negotiatorum et corameatuum maxime celebre.' — Tac. Ann. xiv. 33. It rapidly became * insigne,' as the maritime emporium for the traffic and supplies of the conquerors. In Ammianus Marcellinus London bears the distinguished name of Augusta. ^0mmt ITonb-on:. 3 hardly broken tribes, ■with Boadicea at their head. King Lucius and the missionaries of his Court have likewise quietly withdrawn into the dim region of Christian mythology. In truth, of the first introduc- tion of Christianity into Roman Britain, nothing is historically known. Yet, as soon as there were Christian churches, there can be no doubt that there would be a church in London ; and that such church might be within the precincts of the great military fortress, is by no means improbable. There is a legend, unearthed by Dugdale from an obscure monkish chronicler, that, during the persecution by Diocletian, the church on the site of St. Paul's was demolished, and a temple to Diana built on its ruins ; while at Thorney (Westminster) rose a kindred shrine to Apollo ; the heathen deities supplanting St. Peter and St. Paul.^ This myth, however, must, at least in its larger part, follow the fictions of those, or rather of succeeding, ages. The Diocletian, or rather Ga- lerian, persecution raged chiefly in the East, and in the West at Rome. Remote Britain, under the doubtfully faithful government of Constantius, the father of Constantine, can hardly have been much disturbed. At all events, the persecution lasted far too short a time for the destruction of churches, and the building of heathen temples in their place. Of all this, the Roman temples and Christian churches, the authority, it must be acknowledged, is altogether * Dugdale's History of St. PauVs Cathedral in London, p. 3, The references throughout are to the edition by Sir Henry Ellis. b2 vague and obscure, and so they may pass into ob- livion. III. One singular fact, however, seems to rest on stronger evidence. 'No doubt on part of this area of St. Paul's there was a very ancient cemetery, in which not only successive generations, but successive races, deposited the remains of their dead. A cemetery, however, by no means implied a place of divine wor- ship. With the Romans rather the contrary. By the laws of the Twelve Tables, and by immemorial and unbroken usage, the interment of dead within the walls of a city was inexorably interdicted. The urns of the gi-eat, after the practice of burning the dead prevailed, were alike banished beyond the pomoe- rium. Tliese laws and usages, no doubt, were enforced in all cities throughout the Roman empire. Till the days of dominant Christianity, when, in its more material form differing from the sublime spiritualism of St. Paul, it gave an inalienable sanctity to the buried body, interment within a city, still less within a church, was unknown. Constantino was the first who broke through that law, and ordered his remains to repose in the Church of the Apostles. In the camp, in as close conformity as possible with this usage, the dead were buried in the vallum, the enclosing trench, beyond the actual precincts of the camp, yet secure from hostile violation. That there was a catacomb excavated beneath, or on the declivity of, the hill of St. Paul's, if not within the very outskirts of the Prsetorium, there can be no doubt ; and that this catacomb contained the remains of successive masters and inhabitants of London. * Upon digging the foundations of the present fabric of St. Paul's, he (Sir Christopher Wren) found under the graves of the latter ages, in a row below them, the burial- places of the Saxon times. The Saxons, as it appeared, were accustomed to line their graves with chalk-stones, though some more eminent were entombed in coffins of whole stones. Below these were British graves, wherein were found ivory and wooden pins of a hard wood, seemingly box, in abundance, of about six inches long. It seems the bodies were only wrapt up and pinned in woollen shrouds, which being consumed, the pins remained entire. In the same row and deeper were Boman urns intermixed. This was eighteen feet deep or more, and belonged to the colony when Bomans and Britains lived and died together.' '^ IV. Sir Christopher Wren dismissed the fable, as he esteemed it, of the temple of Diana, somewhat contemptuously. This temple rested on a very ques- tionable and almost contradictory tradition (Dugdale's chronicler assigns it no higher date than Diocletian's persecution) ; on wild etymological fancies (so grave a writer as Selden derives London from the Boman- Welsh Llan-den, the Church of Diana), but chiefly on a report, endorsed by Camden and others, of the ex- humation on this site, in the reign of Edward III., of * an incredible ' quantity of skulls, bones of cattle, stag-horns, boars' tusks, with instruments and vessels " ParentaHa, p. 266. e ^t. I awl's. thought to be sacrificial. We say nothing as to the douhts of the real owners of these bones, as deter- mined in ante-Cuvierian days; but it was decided without hesitation, that they were remains of ancient sacrifices, of course to Diana. In due time the learned took up their parable, and talked with grave solemnity of the Taurobolia, the votive oflferings of bulls to that goddess. Wren, however, refused to be persuaded, and the right of Diana to a temple on the site of St. Paul's remained a matter of controversy. Y. But, extraordinary as it may seem, in our own day, the question has quickened again to new life. In the year 1830, in the excavations for the foundation of Goldsmiths' Hall, in Foster Lane, at no great distance from the cathedral, was found a stone altar, with an image of Diana, about which there can be no doubt or misapprehension. It is of rude provincial workman- ship, yet in form and attitude closely resembling the Diana of the Louvre, the twin sister of the Apollo. Now, considering what capital hunting-grounds must have been the wild and wide forests to the north of London, peopled, as they doubtless were, with all kinds of game, deer, wild-boars, perhaps the urus (the wild-bull), it cannot be surprising that the Roman sportsmen, the officers and soldiers of the great Praetorian camp, should have raised altars and images to the goddess of the chase. It has been well observed, that the shrine ' was placed just where the old British road led forth the hunter by the northern gates of the city, whose walls were encompassed by the primeval forest . . . we may conceive the ancient votary of Diana to have made his oblation on going forth, or an offering of part of the spoils on returning, to the tutelary goddess of his sports.' ^ YI. The Saxon invasion swept away every vestige of Roman civilisation and Roman Christianity, at least in the southern and eastern parts of the island. Of this Christianity there are only very dim, and ob- scure, and doubtful reminiscences. Dean Radulph de Diceto asserts that in the pre-Saxon times, one of the three British archbishoprics was in London. He makes it founded by King Lucius. The other two, he adds, were at York and Caerleon (St. David's). Th^ follow the Roman provincial division of Britain — Britannia Prima, of which the capital was London ; Maxima Caesariensis, York ; Britannia Secunda, Caer- leon. Restitutus, Bishop of London, was said to have been present at the Council of Aries, a.d. 314.® There can be no doubt, however, that under the Saxons London retained its importance as a capital city, and in London the area of St. Paul's would remain a place of dignity and strength. A Saxon foi-tress would occupy the site of the Roman camp. A rude Saxon temple may have frowned down from the height above the Thames, where the Roman or Christian ** In Vestiges of Old London, by John Wykeham Archer, London, 1851, there is a full description, with a very good engraving, of this remarkable monument, which still remains under Goldsmiths' Hall. • Wharton, Episcopi Londinenses, p. 4. fanes liad stood. Ethelbert, King of Kent, is said, with the sanction of Sebert, King of the East Saxons, to have endowed a magnificent cathedral dedicated to St. Paul. Of this church, founded by Mellitus, and no doubt enlarged and adorned during the centuiies of Anglo-Saxon rule, no record survives. It was entirely consumed by fire, or so damaged as to be unfit for public worship, a.d. 1087. VII. The restoration or rebuilding of the fallen cathedral devolved upon Bishop Maurice. He set about his work with Norman boldness and true pre- latic magnificence of design. The new Cathedral must be worthy of the capital city of the kingdom ; and the munificence of Maurice kept pace with his architec- tural ambition. The fabric designed by Maurice com- manded the admiration of his age, as among the noblest churches, not of England only, but of Chris- tendom. Many of his contemporaries, such as our authority, William of Malmesbury, must have seen the splendid buildings erected in Normandy, at Rouen, and, by the Conqueror, at Caen. Yet, writes the historian, such was the magnificence of its beauty, that it may be accounted among the most famous buildings. So vast the extent of the crypt, such the capaciousness of the upper structure, that it could contain the utmost conceivable multitude of worship- pers.*" In the spacious crypt. Bishop Maurice duly f *Tanta est decoris magnificentia, ut merito inter praeclara numeretur sedificia ; tanta criptse laxitas, tanta superioris sedis capacitas, ut quamlibet populi multitudini videatur posse sufficere.' —W . Malmesh. De Gestis Fonti/icum. Lib. ii. 73. deposited the precious remains of St. Erkenwald. It was on Bishop Maurice that the Conqueror bestowed (it must have been a last bequest, for he died on Sept. 9, 1087) the castle of Bishop Stortford.g The King, too — the Conqueror — contributed to the building of the Cathedral, the stone of an ancient tower, called the Palatine Tower, which occupied the site where, in after days, stood the Dominican monastery of the Blackfriars. This tower defended the entrance of the river Fleet. The importance attached to this gift may seem to imply, that not only the roof of timber, as recorded, but that other parts of the old building, even the walls, were of less durable, of more combustible, materials.^ There can be no doubt that the design of the new Cathedral would be, and was, according to the rules of what is commonly called Norman architecture, which combined, to some extent, the massy strength of a fortress with the aspiring height of a cathedral. Its models would be sought in the kindred Norman cities.^ VIII. The episcopate of Bishop Maurice, though it lasted twenty years, saw hardly more than the foundations and the commencement of the great edi- e The gift is attributed by Stowe to the Conqueror; it may have been that of his successor. ^ On these materials from the Palatine Tower, see the Paren- talia, pp. 272, 273. They were, Wren thought, small Yorkshire freestone, Kentish ashlar, and Kentish rag from Maidstone. ^ Sir C. Wren found great fault with the irregularity of the measurements, and with the construction ; yet the building had lasted to his day, and was very difficult to batter down. 10 ^t. lauFs. fice. His successor, Bichakd de Belmeis (he also ruled for twenty years) is said to have devoted the whole of his revenues to the holy work, and to have lived on his private means. The Bishops, it should seem, assumed, and deserved the fame, as they willingly bore the cost, of the splendid fabric. Of the property of the Chui'ch, or the capitular estates, as contributing to the building, nothing is said. The King's donations in these times were chiefly privileges and exemptions. Under the first Norman sovereigns, Winchester rather than London was the capital of England. William Bufus, no devout churchman, granted an exemption of all the Bishop of London's lands from certain taxes ; but those taxes were payable, not to the crown, but to the city. Henry I. (he was crowned by Maurice, Bishop of London) granted exemption from toll or customs to all vessels laden with stone for the Cathedral, which entered the river Fleet. Henry also made an im- portant grant to Bishop de Belmeis to enlarge the area on which the church stood, part of the estate be- longing to the Palatine Tower. A wall was built with a walk alongside of it, enclosing the churchyard. Bishop Belmeis, at great expense, cleared the whole of the area of mean builduigs inhabited by laymen. Dugdale had seen part of this wall. In the anarchy which ensued on the death of Henry I. (December, 1135), as there was a contest for the throne, so there was about the same time a contest for the bishopric of London, and, in the interval, the f ^i Jakic. 11 admimstration of the See, by the authority of the Pope, was in the hands of Henry de Blois, Bishop of Winchester, brother of King Stephen. During his administration a new calamity arrested the growth of the Cathedral. Another fire broke out and burned from London Bridge to St. Clement Danes. According to Matthew Pai-is, the Cathedral was entii-ely destroyed in the conflagration. This, doubtless, is an exaggera- tion ; the extent of the damage cannot be determined. Henry de Blois, as guardian of the see, appealed to his own flock in behalf of St. PauFs. Collections were to be made throughout all the churches in the diocese of Winchester. The Bishop called on the faithful on the singular plea, that though St. Paul had planted so many churches, and illuminated the whole world, this was the only chm'ch dedicated to the great apostle. IX. The new Cathedral of St. Paul stood then in a spacious precinct, encii'cled by walls, erected at different periods. The first was built by Bishop Richard de Belmeis. It began at the north-east corner of Ave Maria Lane, ran eastward along Pater- noster Row to the Old Exchange, Cheapside; then across, southwards, to Carter Lane, at the end of which it turned to the great gateway in Ludgate Street. This wall fell to decay. The churchyard became the resort of thieves and prostitutes, though it did not claim the privilege of sanctuary. In the reign of Edward II., the Dean and Chapter, by license from the Crown, rebuilt and fortified the whole circuit of the wall. Within the wall, at the north-west corner, 12 Ml |anr^. stood the Bishop's palace, beyond which, eastward, was Pardon Chui'chyard, in which Gilbert Becket, Sheriff of London in the time of King Stephen, had built a chapel. This chapel was rebuilt in the reign of Henry Y. by Thomas Moore, Dean of St. Paul's, with a stately cloister around it. On the walls of this cloister (destroyed by the Protector Somerset) was the * Dance of Death,' so common in many mediaeval build- ings. The cloister was crowded with fine monuments, and above was a library founded by Walter Sherington, Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster. In a kind of square, east of the cloister, stood the College of Minor Canons, abutting on Canon Alley, which formed its eastern boundary, where stood a chapel, also founded by Walter Sherington, called the Charnel, from whence, when Somerset plundered the cloister, were removed cartloads of human bones to Finsbury Fields. East of Canon Alley, but probably at no great distance from the north-eastern angle of the Cathedral and in an open space where, in olden times, the folks-mote of the citizens of London was held,'^ stood Paul's Cross, the great pulpit in which so many famous sermons were preached. To this part of the precincts, at least, the citizens of London claimed free access. On the east stood St. Paul's Schools and a belfry tower, in which hung the famous Jesus bells, won at dice by Sir GileS Partridge from Henry YIII. ^ There was a suit against the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul's for encroachment (Purprestura) on the space claimed by the City of Londou for their folksmote. Liber Custumarum, p. 338. 14 Edw. II. North-East View of Old St Paul's, with the Cross On the south side was the spacious garden of the Dean and Chapter, where formerly stood the buildings of the community, dormitory, refectory, kitchen, bake- house, brewery* These, it should seem, gave place to an- other handsome cloister, in which stood, abutting on the south aisle of the church, the Chapter House and the church of St. Gregory.'^ Westward were the houses of the Residentiaries, and the Deanery on its present site. The citizens of London not only held their peaceful assemblies at the foot of St. Paul's Cross, but when the standard of the City was raised in the area before the west front, the Militia arrayed itself under the civic banner. In the wall were six gates, the principal and central one in Ludgate Street. The second was in Paul's Alley, leading to Paternoster Row, from the postern gate of the Cathedral. One stood in Canon Alley, leading to the north door of the Cathedral. The fourth was the ' little ' gate, leading to Cheapside. The fifth (St. Augustine's Gate) led by that church to Watling Street. The sixth was opposite to the south entrance of the church by Paul's Chain. There was a ponderous chain across this pas- sage to the entrance. By the west front were two towers. Lambeth did not alone enjoy the privilege of imprisoning heretics within its own precincts. * At 1 Of this Cloister and Chapter House described by Sir C. Wren in these terms — * Adjoining to the south cross was a Chapter House of more elegant Gothic manner, with a cloj'ster of two stories high ' — some interesting remains were discovered in the spring of 1878 which show the complete arrangement and style of the lower storey, and appear to belong to the end of the fourteenth century. 14 ^t. fml'B, either corner of this west end of St. Paiil's,' writes Stowe, * are also, of ancient building, two strong towers of stone, made for bell-towers, the one of them, to wit, next to the palace, is at the present, to the use of the same palace. The other, towards the south, is called the Lollards' Tower, and hath been used as the Bishop's Prison for such as were detected for opinions contrary to the faith of the Church.' X. Of the ancient Anglo-Saxon Cathedral no vestige remains. If not entirely destroyed by the fire in the reign of the Conqueror, what remained was re- moved to make room for the new fabric commenced by Bishop Maurice, and continued (it can hardly be said completed) under his successors. For in the mediaeval times, almost every cathedral was constantly undergoing enlargement, extension, change in its con- struction or in its details (more especially in its deco- rations), and was surrounded by more ample and various buildings and cloisters, according to the opulence and munificence of successive generations, of Bishops, Chapters, or the Faithful. Bishop Maurice, no doubt, began with the lofty ponderous pillars and round heavy arches of the great Norman nave. In its form, in its height, in the narrow windows of the clerestory, and those of the side aisles scarcely wider, it resembled, doubtless, the contemporary churches built on the Continent by the Conqueror, or in his days — the Abbaye aux Hommes and the Abbaye aux Dames at Caen, and others of that style. The original design seems to have contemplated the nave and 0ir. 15 parallel aisles, shallow transepts, and a still shallower apse, in the old Basilican form of the presbytery, with no choir, or, at least, one of no depth and of insignifi- cant dimensions. The admiration excited by this building was no doubt heightened, if not created, by contrast with the humbler Anglo-Saxon churches, and by its construc- tion of more durable materials. It is acknowledged that, during the twenty years of the episcopate of Maurice subsequent to the fire, the Cathedi'al had made no great progress. The prodigal munificence of his successor, Richard de Belmeis, seems chiefly to have been devoted to the enlargement of the close and area of the Cathedral, by removing low and mean hovels, and to securing the ecclesiastical buildings by a strong and lofty wall. The fabric itself, indeed, ad- vanced so slowly, that Bishop Bichard began to despair, and devoted his wealth to other pious purposes. XI. But during the reign of the Plantagenets, a change had come over church architecture. At the commencement of Henry III.'s reign, the pointed early English Gothic had fully developed itself. As yet there was no central tower in St. Paul's, and the Cathedral seemed as it were ashamed of its shallow apse, and demanded, for the pomp of its services, its processions, and the installation and insulation of the Clergy, a deeper and more richly ornamented choir. This was erected during the episcopate of Koger Niger, and so important was the enlargement of the Cathedral (the New Work, as it was called), that in 16 m. IeuI's. the year 1240 a second Dedication took place. It was a splendid ceremony : the Legate of the Pope, the Cardinal Otho, Edmond (Rich) Archbishop of Can- terbury, six other Bishops, the King himself, and all his Court, attended in full state, in honour of Bishop Roger Niger and his church. The Cathedi-al had expanded from the dark and ponderous nave into a gorgeous pointed choir, and from the centre, where the nave and choir met, had begun to arise a lofty tower. XII. In the year 1315, during the reign of Edward II. and the episcopate of Gilbert de Segrave, the fabric of St. Paul's was declared complete. The dimensions of the building are given in more than one account; but these in some degree differ, and Mr. William Longman has challenged the correctness of the old representations of the building, and of the dimensions assigned to it by contemporary authorities. * It appears,' he says, * from a ground plan founded on Hollar's plan in Dugdaie's *' St. Paul's," and drawn to scale by Mr. E. B. Ferrey, that the total length of the building from east to west, inclusive of end walls, was about 596 feet. The other dimensions, as calculated by Mr. Ferrey, are — breadth 104 feet (including aisle walls). Height of roof, west part, that is, up to the ridge of vaulting, 93 feet. Height of roof up to vault ridge to choir proper, 101 feet 6 inches. Height of roof at Lady Chapel, 98 feet 6 inches. External height (ground to ridge of outer roof to choir), 142 feet. External height to ridge of nave, 130 feet. The m^t fjigfe guitar. 17 height of the tower steeple was 285 feet, of the spire 208 feet, surmounted by a cross of 15 feet.'"^ On the dedication of the spire by the Bishop (Se- grave) there was a solemn procession. Many relics of saints were deposited as though to protect the Tower and the whole fabric, by the glorious merits of those Saints, from all danger of tempests. Their protection was not very efficacious. Early in 1339 the Ball and Cross needed repair, and the relics were replaced with great pomp by the Bishop, Richard de Bintworth, and the Dean, Gilbert de Bruer. Shortly afterwards, in the year 1341, the roof was struck by lightning, and was not fully repaired till 1362. In 1444 the spire was again struck by lightning, but was repaired by Bishop Kemp, and surmounted by a great weathercock of copper-gilt, which seems to have been a novel in- vention. It was 4 feet long, 31 wide, and weighed 40 pounds. XIII. The splendour of the interior of the church was centred on the high altar, which was of great magnificence. In 1309 a pious citizen, Bichard Pikerell, gave a beautiful tablet, variously adorned with many precious stones and enamel work, as also with divers images of metal; which tablet stood be- tween two columns, with a frame of wood to cover it, richly set out with curious pictures, the charge whereof amounted to cc. marks. There was a picture too of St. Paul, in a beautiful tabernacle of wood, on the right hand of the high altar. The price of the work- ™ Longman. The Three Cathedrals, p. 29. C 18 m. |a«rs. mansliipwas 121. IQs. The pavement was of good and firm marble. XIY. The Chaptei' House stood, as has been said, in the centre of a fijie cloister on the south side of the church, an octagon, with large buttresses adorned with pinnacles lessening in height. Each front had a painted window. Paul's Cross was, as • we have also seen, at the north-east corner of the Cathedral. It was originally, perhaps, like other crosses, set up at the entrance of the churchyard, to remind the passers-by to pray for the dead interred in the cemetery. At an early period a pulpit was erected of wood on a stone base, with a canopy of lead. The old cross and pulpit wei*e sup- planted by a more splendid stone cross with a pulpit, erected and consecrated by Thomas Kemp, Bishop of London. It became one of the buildings of which, from its grace and beauty, the city of London was most proud. XY. In the year 1561 a terrific storm burst over London. The church of St. Martin, Ludgate Hill, was struck by lightning ; huge stones came toppling down on the roof and on the pavement. The alarm was not over, when the lightning was seen to flash into an aperture in the steeple of the Cathedral. The steeple was of wood covered with lead. The fire burned downwards for four hours with irresistible force, the bells melted, the timber blazed, the stones crumbled and fell. The lead flowed down in sheets of flame, threatening, but happily not damaging, the Ilfbttilbrng of t^e C^trxt^f. 19 organ. The fire ran east, west, north, and south along the roof, which fell in, filling the whole church with a mass of ruin. XYI. The demolition of St. Paul's had not been so complete as was apprehended at first, but its de- struction was held to be a national calamity, its resto- ration a national work. The Crown of England, the Church of England, the nobility of England, the whole commonalty, especially the City of London, were called upon to raise it up again at least to its pristine dignity. At no time had the capitular estates, latterly not those of the Bishop, been considered responsible for the maintenance and repairs of the church. The question was not even mooted on this occasion. The frugal Queen gave 1,000 marks in gold, 1,000 marks in timber from her woods or elsewhere. The City of London gave first a great benevolence, and after that three-fifteenths to be speedily paid. The Clergy of the province of Canterbury granted the fortieth part of the income of their benefices charged with first fruits, and the thirtieth of those not so charged. There were collections in every diocese. The total sum raised from the Clergy was 1,410^. 125. \ld. The Bishop of London in two donations gave 284:1. 13s. lid. The Dean and Chapter of St. Paul's, U^l. 13s. 4:d. The Lord Chief Justice and Officers of the Court of Common Pleas, 34^. 5s. ; of the King's Bench 171. 16s. Sd. The Bishop of London further for timber, 720^.'^ ° The details are in Strype's edition of Stowe. Book iii. c. viii. C 2 20 St. |aurs. The Lord Major at once recognised his duty. The flames were hardly extinguished, when men were set to work, the most skilful that coujd be found, to take measures for the immediate repair of the damage. The restoration proceeded rapidly, under the active care of the Chief Magistrate, who personally superin- tended the works, with ' men of knowledge ' to over- look the workmen. In one month a false roof was erected to keep out the weather. By the end of the year the aisles were covered in and roofed over with lead. During the next year the great roofs of the west and east end had been prepared with large tim- bers framed in Yorkshire, brought by sea, set up, and covered with lead. The north and south transepts were covered in by the end of April 1566. The church was so far restored that, on November 1, 1566, the Lord Mayor and Aldermen and all the crafts of London, in their liveries, went to the Cathe- dral with a vast retinue (eighty men carrying torches); the Lord Mayor tarried the sermon, which lasted into the night (a November night), and returned home by the light of the torches. The steeple, however, remained in ruins, and so continued during the reign of Elizabeth ; and, in fact, never was re-erected. The repaii*s in the time of James I. and Chai'les I. were confined to other parts of the building. Queen Elizabeth was extremely angry that the repairs of the steeple were not carried on. The excuse was that her Majesty's subsidies pressed so heavily on the City, that time was absolutely 'S.zt^n d( famts |. 21 necessary. The City promised speedy attention to her Majesty's commands, but nothing was done. XYII. In the reign of James I. the dilapidated state of the Cathedral called imperiously for a large Expenditure. Bnt on whom was this to fall? The King had seen, no doubt, many ruinous or ruined cathedrals in his native land, and they were of inauspi- cious omen. Nevertheless the King addressed a letter to the Bishop of London, in which appears this alarm- ing passage, that the Crown, being poor (in James's time the Crown was always poor), declined altogether the burthen. ' Among the possessions that belong to that see, there be lands especially appropriated to the fabric of the church, which, if they had been con- tinually employed to this use, these decays would not have gone so far.' A certificate, the King proceeds, must be made to us of such possessions of the church, as be appropriated to the fabric thereof, and what yearly rent they be of. A Eoyal Commission was appointed, which comprehended all the great digni- taries of the Church and State, the Lord Mayor and chief functionaries of the City. Before this Commis- sion it was acknowledged that the Bishop of London had peculiar care of the whole body of the church, the Dean and Chapter of the choir ; * but that which each of them enjoyed as to this purpose was so little as that they yearly expended double as much upon the roof and other parts decayed, to preserve them from present ruin. The church, from its foundation, had been supported partly out of the large oblations 22 ^t |aurs. of those that visited the shrines and oratories therein, partly from public contributions.' It is said that some of the commissionei*s aimed at the * wreck' of the Bishop and the Clergy of the Church. Lord Southampton and other zealous Churchmen interposed to protect them. Some incidental notices show that the Bishops of London had charged themselves, or had been charged, with considerable sums as dilapi- dations for the repair of the body of the church. Grindal had bestowed on the repairs of the Cathedral &c., 1,184?. 18s. ll^d.^ Bishop Aylmer claimed of his predecessor, Sandys, 309?. for dilapidations on the the church. On Bancroft's elevation the charge of repairing the church was estimated at 4,50 H.p It was proved, however, to the satisfaction of the Com- mission, that whatever were the episcopal estates chargeable with the repair of the church, they were of very small, altogether inadequate, value. The Church of St. Paul was a national one, and must therefore be maintained and adorned by public con- tributions. Nothing, however, was done. Twelve years after (according to old Dugdale), 'the princely heart of King James, having received many petitions on the subject, was moved with such compassion to this de- cayed fabric,' that he came in great state hither on horseback (March 26, 1620), with all the lords and great officers in state.^i He was met by the Lord *> Strype's Grindal, p. 434. Strype's Aylmer, p. 19. P Strype's Whitgift, vol. ii. p. 391. ^ Dugdale, p. 101. gi j^0gal €ommmiov(^ 23 Mayor, and received by the Dean and Canons under a canopy, with the whole band of choristers. He entered the church, knelt and prayed at the west door, near the ' brazen pillar ; ' then proceeded up the church, the singers chanting before him, to the choir, where an anthem was sung. They then went to the Cross, where a sermon was preached by King, Bishop of London, from the appropriate words (Psalm cii. 14), ' Thy servants think upon her stones, and it pitieth them to see her in the dust,' The King with his reti- nue was entertained at a splendid banquet in the Bishop's palace. Then followed, in a few days, a Royal Commission, under the Great Seal, with a noble list of commis- sioners, among them Inigo Jones, the King's surveyor. The King headed the subscription, with what sum appears not, nor whether it was paid : most of the nobility and many more ' following very cheerfully therein.' The Bishop offered 100^. annually, but his death followed soon. An estimate was, however, made of the total sum wanted : — For the choir . The steeple The nave and aisles The transepts . The chapter house Total . . . 22,636 2 3 We hear nothing of the City, whether it was cold to the appeal to its benevolence. No work, however, was begun till the accession of Charles I. and the epis- £ s. d. 1,619 4 1 12,015 15 6,891 19 1,647 4 361 19 4 6 6 24 ^t. |aurs. copate of Laud. One tiling only creeps out, ttat Buckingham borrowed tlie stone collected for the re- pairs; certainly for a beautiful building, the Water Gate, erected by Inigo Jones, at the bottom of the garden behind his sumptuous palace in the Strand. The site is now covered by Yilliers Street, Bucking- ham Street, and other buildings. XYIII. As Bishop of London, one of Laud's first objects was the restoration of St. Paul's. With his influence it was not difficult to work, for such an aim, on the congenial mind of the King. Of the royal qualities of Charles, one of the most kingly, perhaps the most kingly, was his enlightened love of the fine arts. He who was peopling the walls of Whitehall (rising under his auspices) with the most exquisite paintings of Baffaelle and Titian (some of them now the glory of the gallery at Madrid) was not likely to be without interest in the restoration and adorn- ment of the Cathedral of the metropolis by Inigo Jones. Inigo Jones was now at the height of his renown. He had already designed the great palace of Whitehall, one part alone of which, alas ! he was to achieve, the Banqueting House ; yet that alone was enough for his fame. He was surveyor to the King ; he had been included in the original commission of King James for the repair of the Cathedral. He was not only at the summit of, but stood almost alone in, the noble pro- fession of architecture. The funds flowed rapidly in. The King, when the design for Inigo's portico ap- orks of 'S^tdoxution, 25 peared, expressed his determination himself to defray the cost of that part of the work. Laud, as appears from his own statement — and he was not a man to boast of his munificence — contributed, first and last, twelve hundred pounds; in those days a great sum. But Laud, in his blind zeal, loaded the fund with a very productive but highly unpopular source of revenue. The High Commission Court had assumed the power, as Clarendon more than admits, the illegal power, of inflicting heavy mulcts, not for recusancy only, but for all kinds of moral delinquencies, and these fines were imposed with no sparing hand. This was after- wards bitterly remembered, no doubt, by those on whom the fines were levied. The common saying spread abroad again, that, in another sense, St. Paul's was restored out of the sins of the people. The works commenced without delay, and were carried on with a high hand. The mean shops and houses which crowded on the church, especially on the West front, disappeared. The owners and tenants were compelled to accept what the authorities thought adequate — they, of course, inadequate — compensation. The demolition of these houses and the ejection of their inhabitants were among the charges against Laud at his trial. Laud excused himself by alleging that it was done by Commissioners under the authority of the Council. He threw, too, the chief blame on the Dean and Chapter, who, to increase their own revenues, had allowed these houses to be built on consecrated ground. By an extraordinary, and it should seem most iniquit- 2Q ^t laul's. ous, stretch of power, the Parliamentary Government made the innocent architect, Inigo Jones, pav largely towards the compensation ; but Inigo, the designer of the scenery for the splendid, costly, and heathenish masks of James and Charles, was not likely to find favour with a Puritan majority in Parliament. The Church of St. Gregory, which stood in the way, abut- ting on the Cathedral at the south-west corner, was removed without scruple, and rebuilt on a more con- venient site. The removal of this church was an- other of Laud's offences, charged against him on his trial. ' In the restoration of St. Paul's,' writes Horace Walpole, * Inigo made two capital faults. He first renewed the sides with very bad Gothic, and then added a Roman portico, magnificent and beautiful indeed, but which had no affinity with the ancient parts that remained, and made the Gothic appear ten times heavier.' The fii'st of these capital faults was inevitable. Throughout Christendom the feeling, the skill, the tradition of Gothic architecture had entirely died out. It had lingered in England longer than on the Continent. Its last two splendid, if over florid and decorate, achievements. King's College Chapel, Cambridge, and Henry VIT.th's Chapel at Westmins- ter, might seem to have exhausted its creative energy. The Reformers wanted not for their new churches the wealth which had been lavished on the old ; they re- quired not for their simpler worship the vastness, height, long processional aisles^ broad naves, and rich |jti00 |ones» 27 cboirs. They gradually, therefore, lost their reverence for those wonderful structures. The great Jesuit re- action, simultaneous with the revival of classical art, while labouring to resuscitate mediaeval sacerdotal authority, mediaeval Papalism, repudiated, it might seem deliberately, mediaeval architecture and mediaeval art, the great strength of the middle ages. Inigo Jones was an Italian in all but birth : he had studied in Italy; in Italy imbibed his principles, his tastes, his feelings. In Italy he had found the models which he condescended to imitate, which he aspired to equal or surpass. Whether he deigned to notice on his way to Italy the noble French cathe- drals — Amiens, Kheims, Bourges, or those on the Rhine, Cologne, and Strasbourg — appears not. His studies had been chiefly at Rome, where there was but one, and that a very inferior, Gothic church, at Florence, at Yicenza. In Italy the name Gothic, of the same import as barbarous, was now looked upon, spoken of, written of, with utter contempt. No wonder then that the Gothic of Inigo Jones, though we may not accept Walpole's judgment as to genuine Gothic, was undeniably bad. His aim, indeed, on the sides of the building seems to have been no more than repair, to make the building secure against weather, to face it throughout, to cut away the decayed stone, the ruined string courses, the ornamental tracery and windows, which he replaced without regard to the original design, as suited his own notions of propor- tion and symmetry. The new building looked smooth 28 ^t. iaul's. and fresh. It showed a dull flat uniformity, instead of the old bold projections, and the venerable, time- worn aspect of the dark and cumbrous, and ill- harmonised perhaps, but massy and imposing, arches and buttresses. XIX. On the West front Inigo dared to indulge his creative powers. The west fagade of the old Ca- thedral, it should seem, had never been perfectly finished. It had none of the grandeur, richness, and variety of the nobler Gothic edifices, the deep receding arches, with their triple doors and sculptured canopies, their splendid rose windows (the rose window here was poor and insignificant) rising above the porch, instinct with sculpture above, below, within, on every side. Kent's designs show the plan and elevation of the West front as it appeared from the hands of Inigo Jones. 'The entire West front measures 161 feet long and 162 feet high from the ground to the top of the cross. A tower at each angle rises 140 feet, while over them ascends the central peak, ornamented with pinnacles terminating in a cross, and forming a screen to the end of the main roof of the building. The whole of this front is of the Corinthian order rusticated, and may be described as cumbrous in form but pic- turesque in effect. It is far otherwise with that noble portico, to which the work I have described serves at once as a background and a contrast. This reaches in length 120 feet over the bases of the columns, and rises 66 feet, measuring from the first step — of which J j 3 I > :> > J } 3 ■>■> J J > J J J J I o o !h o a o o -P r— ( o €^t MtBt ixont 29 there are five — to the summit of the balustrade. There is no pediment, inasmuch as the picturesque rusticated peak performs in some degree the part of a pediment : nor is the effect, though startling at first, at all un- pleasant, though it rises nearly one hundred feet above the balustrade. There are in all fourteen fluted columns, of which eight stand in front and three on either side ; nor are these last crowded, for the projec- tion measures forty-two feet. At each angle there is a square pilaster, proportioned and diminished like its circular companions, with half pilasters to correspond, where the portico unites with the wall. On the front line, and on the return of these pilasters, a column stands so close that the capitals and bases are all but touch- ing. In the centre of the portico, the space between the columns measures eleven feet, while that which sepa- rates the other is only nine, thus giving air and access to the principal door. The columns, including capitals and bases, measure forty-six feet high. On the parapet corresponding with each column a pedestal is inserted breaking forward and rising nine inches above the cornice, serving at once as a blocking to the balus- ters and a support to a statue, of which the architect had designed ten, all princes and benefactors of the church. I have seen nothing in this country so nobly proportioned and so simply splendid as this portico. The pilasters coupled to columns at each corner are, I conceive, a great beauty, varying the sameness of the design, and preserving the perpen- dicular profile of the angles, which the square pro- 30 m. laul's. jections above and below seem to require, and which, circular columns sacrifice.''' This portico was designed not merely as an orna- ment and completion of the Cathedral. It was in- tended for an ambulatory, or Paul's Walk, on the exterior, not in the interior, of the sacred building, to relieve the Cathedral itself of the profane and in- veterate abuses which it seemed hopeless to suppress entirely. It was a sort of compromise with the ' money changers,' with the ' den of thieves,' who were thus at least ejected from the church itself, though it might be impracticable to expel them en- tirely from its precincts. "What the Bishop did not do, perhaps from want of time or of funds could not do, perhaps even Laud would hardly have dared to do, was done by a wealthy citizen of London, who had made a large fortune as a Turkey merchant, and devoted no less a sum than 100,000Z. to the internal embellishment of St. Paul's. For besides the outward repairs and decorations, the munificence of many persons during nine years contri- buted largely to the ornamentation of the interior Amongst the contributors, writes Dugdale, ' Sir Paul Pindar, Knight, sometime ambassador at Constanti- nople, is especially to be remembered, who, having at his own charge first repaired the decays of that goodly partition made at the west-end of the quire, adorning *■ Cunningham, Lives of the Most Eminent British Painters, Sculptors, and Architects, vol. iv. pp. 118-120. But these dimen- sions seem to have been inaccurately deduced, as they are not con- sistent with Hollar or with the plans preserved at Oxford. Winhx l^e €ommanbtmtlQ, 31 the front thereof outwards with fair pillars of black marble, and statues of those Saxon kings who had been founders or benefactors to the church, beautified the inner part thereof with figures of angels, and all the wainscot work of the quire with excellent carving, viz. of cherubims and other imagery, richly gilded ; adding costly suits of hangings for the upper end thereof, and afterwards bestowed four thousand pounds in repairing of the south cross.' All was now finished except the steeple, and for this the scafiblding was raised round the central tower, from which was to arise the spire to loftier height, perhaps of more solid and less combustible materials than the old. XX. But when Puritanism was in the ascendant, St. Paul's became a vast useless pile, the lair of old superstition and idolatry. Why cumbereth it the ground? The prodigal expenditure of Charles and Laud ; the brilliant creation of Inigo Jones ; the munificence of Sir Paul Pindar, might seem the dress- ing up of the victim for sacrifice, or rather for con- temptuous exposure to slow decay and ruin. The Cathedral was not destroyed, for it would have been a work of cost and labour to destroy it. The stones still remained upoji the stones. One of the first acts, however, of the Parliament was to seize and appro- priate to other uses the sum remaining out of the subscription for the repairs of the church in the chamber of the city of London. This sum amounted to above 17,000Z. The scaffolding erected around the 32 ^t |aurs. tower was assigned to Col. Jephson's regiment for 1,74:61. 15s. 8c?., due as arrears of pay. On striking the scaffolding, part of the south transept, with its roof, came down. The Cathedral was left to chance, exposed at least to neglect, too often to wanton or ine\itable mischief. From Inigo's noble portico the statues of the two kings were tumbled ignominiously down and dashed to pieces. The portico was let out for mean shops, to sempstresses and hucksters, with chambers above, and staircases leading to them. The body of the church, the sacred building, Dugdale, who saw it, declares with sorrow and bitterness of heart, became a cavalry bar- rack, a cavalry stable. The pavement was trampled by Horses, the tombs left to the idle amusement of the rude soldiers, if religious, not much disposed to rever- ence the remains of a Popish edifice. The famous adjunct to the Cathedral was not left even to slow decay. It might have been supposed that Paul's Cross, from which so many sermons had been preached in the course of years, some, without doubt, as fiercely condemnatory of Popish supersti- tion as the most devout Puritan could have wished ; that the famous pulpit, which we might have expected Presbyterian and Independent Divines, the most powerful and popular, M^ould have aspired to fill, and from thence hoped to sway to their own purposes, and to guide to assured salvation, the devout citizens of London, would have been preserved as a tower of strength to the good cause. But it was a Cross, and git t}^z ^tBtoxntwn. 33 a Cross was obstinately, irreclaimably Popish. Down it went ; not a vestige of the splendid work of Bishop Kemp was allowed to remain. Its place knew it no more ; tradition alone pointed to where it stood ; it never rose again. At the Restoration the St. Paul's Cross Sermons, with their endowments, were removed into the Cathedral itself ; and still belong to the Sun- day morning preachers, who, as of old, are appointed by the Bishop of London. XXI. The damage which the Cathedral suffered during the Commonwealth was not easily repaired; but after the Restoration the public services were re- commenced, and soon some kind of order restored. At first, finding that the stalls in the choir with the organ- loft were entirely destroyed, the east end of the church, which under the Commonwealth had been fitted up as a preaching place for Dr. Burgess, was enlarged by taking in one arch of the choir, and there for a time the services went on. But the whole fabric was seen to be insecure, if not dangerous. What was to be done, was the question anxiously debated for two or three years. * Sir Christopher Wren, then Dr. Wren, was con- sulted. His report was by no means favourable. It is of great length; is at once the history, description, and prophetic funeral oration of old St. Paul's.^ In the proposals for the repair, ' Some may aim at too great magnificence, which the disposition of the age will not bear. Others may fall so low as to think of ■ A summary of Wren's report is given in the text, and as far as possible in his own words. It is too long to quote in extenso. D 34 Bi lattF^. piecing up the old fabric, here with stone, there with brick, and cover all faults with a coat of plaister, leav- ing it still to posterity as a further object of charity. The Cathedral is a pile both for ornament and for use. It demands a choir, consistory, chapter-house, library, court of arches, preaching auditory, which might be furnished at less expense, but would want grandeur. It was a monument of power and mighty zeal in our ancestors to public works, in those times when the City had neither a fifth part of the people nor a tenth part of the wealth it now boasts of.' Wren proceeds to the defects of the building : — ' First, it is evident, by the ruin of the roof, that the work was both ill-designed and ill-built from the be- ginning ; ill-designed, because the architect gave not butment enough to counterpoise and resist thp weight of the roof from spreading the walls ; for the eye alone will discover to any man, that those pillars, as vast as they are, even eleven foot diameter, are bent outwards at least six inches from their first position ; w^hich being done on both sides, it necessarily follows, that the whole roof must fall open, in large and wide cracks along by the walls and windows ; and, lastly, drop down between the yielding pillars. This bending of the pillars was facilitated by their ill-building ; for they are only cased without, and but with small stones, not one greater than a man's burden; but within is nothing but a core of small rubbish stone and much mortar, which easily crushes and yields to the weight ; and this outM^ard coat of free stone is so much torn witli age and the neglect of the roof, that there are fe^v stones to be found that are not mouldered and flawed away with the saltpetre that is in them ; an incurable disease, which pei'petually throws off whatever coat of plaister is laid on it, and therefore not to be palliated.' Wren adds further, that as the outside of the chui'ch was new flagged with stones of larger size (Inigo's work), ' so should be the inside afte.r a good Roman manner, as easy to perform as to follow the Gothic rudeness of the old design. It must be either a timber roof, which under certain circumstances will soon decay, or a thinner and lighter shell of stone, very geometrically proportioned to the strength of the butment. The roof might be of brick with a certain stucco, which to this day remains firm in many ancient Roman buildings. ' The middle part is most defective both in beauty and firmness, within and without, for the tower leans manifestly by the settling of one of the ancient pillars that supported it. Four new arches were, there- fore, of later years incorporated within the old ones, which hath straightened and hindered both the room, and the clear thorough view of the nave, in that part where it had been more graceful to have been rather wider than the rest.' Besides this, * the intercolumnia- tions are very unequal. Without, the three buttresses (the fourth is wanting) are so irregular that the tower, from the top to t^e bottom, and the next adjacent parts, are such a heap of deformities, that no judicious architect will think it corrigible,' D 2 36 ^t |aurs. "Wren cannot propose a better remedy than by cutting off the inner corners of the cross. So to reduce this middle part into a dome or rotundo, with a cupola or hemispherical roof, and upon the cupola, for the outward ornament, a lantern with a spii-ing top to rise proportionably, though not to that unnecessary height of the former spii'e of timber and lead, burnt by Hghtning. * By this means the deformities of the unequal intercolumniations will be taken away; the church, which is much too narrow for the height, rendered spacious in the middle, which may be a very proper place for a vast auditory. The outward appearance of the church will seem to swell in the middle by degrees from a large basis, rising into a rotundo bearing a cupola, and then ending in a lantern ; and this with incomparable more grace in the remoter aspect than it is possible for the lean shaft of a steeple to afford.' These sentences are added as illustrating Wren's views. But in truth this prophetic vision of the many thousands who in the Sunday evening services meet under his dome, is surely most remarkable. For the rest, "Wren dwells altogether on the materials and mode of execution, excepting a generous paragraph of homage to Inigo Jones's portico, ' an absolute piece in itself.' It cannot be surprising that the debate on this difficult question should be long and obstinate. Some materials were collected, but nothing was resolved on or done. The debate lasted till it was determined by that terrible arbiter, the Fire of London, in which QxinrntnU m 0lb ^t '^nul'^. 37 the old Cathedral of St. Paul's perished absolutely The date of that building cannot be carried higher than the reign of William the Conqueror. But from that time it had stood brooding, as it were, over the metropolis, a silent witness of all the civil and reli- gious revolutions of England. XXII. The line of the Roman satirist, — Quandoquidem data sunt ipsis quoque fata sepulchris ! — found a melancholy illustration in St. Paul's. With the Cathedral perished all the monuments, save one. Of the rest, very few, almost shapeless, calcined, and hardly distinguishable fragments remain, which are preserved with due respect in the crypt of the new Cathedral. Yet the loss is not so grievous as might be supposed. Considering that St, Paul's was the Cathe- dral of the metropolis, it is surprising how few famous men, before the Keformation, reposed under its pave- ment, or were honoured with stately monuments. St. Paul's was never the burial-place of the Kings of England. Surrendering to Westminster the mythic Sebert, St. Paul boasted of only two Saxon sovereigns. One of these was Sebba, King of the East Saxons, for whom the only voucher was a tablet, suspended on the wall near what was supposed to be his grave. According to the inscription, Sebba was converted by Bishop Erkenwald, in the year 677. After thirty years' reign he abdicated his crown, and received the cowl from the hands of Bishop Walter, the successor of Erkenwald. The other was Ethelred the Unready. S8 m, |aur». In th.e inscription near his grave, the proverbial men- dacity of epitaphs does not err on the side of flattery. Against Ethelred Archbishop Dunstan had uttered his awful prophecy r * As thou hast won the crown by the aid of thy infamous mother, and by the death of thy brother, the avenging sword shall never cease from thy house, and thy kingdom shall pass away to a foreign ruler.' The sin of Ethelred, the sin of his mother, the sin of his Council, was visited by the ful- filment of the Saint's prophecy. Ethelred, after many battles with Sweyne the Dane, and with his son Canute, fled and was besieged in London, and died, worn out by a thirty-seven years' reign of tribulation, A.D. 1016. What other Saxon kings were comme- morated on Sir Paul Pindar's screen does not appear.* XXIII. Under our Norman kings London was hardly the capital of England. They rested at Caen, at Winchester, at Eeading, at Faversham ; the two first Plantagenets at Fontevraud, John at Worcester. After Henry III. (except the murdered Edward II. buried at Gloucester, Henry TV. at Canterbury, the usuiper Pichard III. at Leicester, the exile James 11. at St. Ger- mains, the first Brunswick at Hanover) all our Sove- reigns repose at Westminster or Windsor. Nor were any members of their families interred in St. Paul's. The only royal sepulchre was that of John of Gaunt." Over John of Gaunt rose a noble monument adorned * Dugdale, p. 64. " The inscription over John of Gaunt's tomb was of a later period. It boasts of his being the ancestor of that most prudent king, Henry VII. ';T:W:;,^.' > I ) i < < ■ <■ ' < ( ft Monument of John de Beauchamp in Old- St Paxil's conrmonly called the Tomh of 'Duke Humphrey' fomk of t^t $is^0ps. 39 with the chivalrous insignia of the Duke of Lancaster, who claimed the crown of Castile. The helmet and spear of the gallant old knight, and his target covered with horn, were hanging on the tomb, where lay the recumbent images of John himself and his second wife, Constance of Castile. His third wife, Catherine Swinford, though a woman of exquisite beauty, and a faithful consort, who bore him many children, was not thought worthy of that honour. In the first Iconoclastic outburst, under Edward YI., this tomb, being in danger, was specially protected by order of the Government. It can hardly have escaped the second, the reckless and wanton mischief of the rude or fanatic Cromwellian soldiery quartered in the church. By what strange fancy good Duke Hum- phrey was translated from St. Alban's to usurp the splendid Beauchamp monument, and become the patron of dinnerless parasites, it is not easy to conceive. Of her own Bishops St. Paul's had a long line in her vaults, commencing with her second patron, Saint Erkenwald. The tomb of William the Norman, once the Confessor's Chaplain and the Conqueror's Bishop, with the annual pilgrimage of the grateful citizens of London, will hereafter be referred to. In the thirteenth century there had been a suc- cession of noble prelates, famous in their day : Eustace Fauconberg (1228), Roger Niger (1241), Fulk Basset (1259), Henry Wengham (1262). Under the same rich canopy were the tombs of Fauconberg and of the great pluralist Wengham. Roger Niger's graceful 40 m. laurs. monument was between the choir and the north aisle. The tombs of other Bishops went to ruin in the first year of Edward YI. : those of Henry de Sandwich, Kichard de Gravesend, Ralph de Baldock, Richard de Newport, Michael de Northburgh, Richard de Clifibrd, Richard Hill, Richard Fitz James. It is believed that the others, engraved for Dugdale, escaped that merciless destruction ; but, in the later more general demolition, fell the chantry of Fulk Basset, and the mortuary chapel of Thomas Kemp, between the nave and north aisle ; their rich Gothic fretwork, their sculp- tured images, their mitred recumbent Bishops, would mark them out for special insult and desecration. The tomb of Richard Braybroke in the choir escaped in- violate. He was the prelate whose remains appeared entii'e after the Fii-e. St. Paul's retained, and might be proud of, the sepulchres of her greater Deans — one before, two after the Reformation — Colet, Nowell, and Donne. Their tombs were respected until the unrespecting fire; and even then Donne remained, and does remain, mutilated indeed, but still easily recognisable in his simple, closely-clinging shroud, as he was not unskilfully represented in stone. XXIY. The great warriors, great nobles, great statesmen of England were thinly scattered in the Cathedral. There was Sir Simon Burley, Warden of the Cinque Ports, and high in the counsels of the un- fortunate Richard II. Beheaded as a traitor by the Parliamentary leaders, his attainder was reversed by Henry IV. Monument of Dean Donne in his shroud. Saved frona ^omhB of ^MtBmzn. 4:1 It was not till the reign of Elizabeth, as if the Abbey could not contain all the illustrious counsellors and soldiers of the great Queen, that. some, and those of the most famous, were laid to rest in St. Paul's. The first of the Elizabethan worthies (the less glorious names must be sought in Dugdale) was William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke (1569). The chief part of Herbert's distinguished services had been in former reigns. His epitaph boasted of those services to four Sovereigns. He was Lord of the Bedchamber to Henry YIII., Master of the Horse to Edward YI., and President of Wales. With Barons Pussell and Grey he had quelled the Western insurrection. Under Queen Mary he had twice held the chief com- mand against the rebel, had twice been Commander of the march of Calais before its fatal loss. He held large cud honourable offices under Elizabeth. His wife was the sister of Queen Katherine Parr. Like Pembroke, Sir John Mason had seen service under four Sovereigns. His inscription is in better verse than usual : — Si quis erat prudens unquam fidusque Senator, Si quis erat pa triss charus, amansque suae ; Si quis ad externas Legatus idoneus oras, Si cui justitise cura bonique fuit ; Is Masonus erat, cui tota Britannia testis, Testis amor procerum, sit populique favor. Tempore quinque suo regnantes ordine vidit : Horum a conciliis quatuor, ille fuit. Ties et sex decies vixit, non amplius, annos. Hie tegitur corpuSj spiritus astra tenet. 42 ^t. lauFs. Hunc tumulum conjux posuit dilecta marito ; Quemque viro posuit, destinat ipsa sibi. Triste nepos carmen (quern fecit adoptio natum), Turn Patris inscripsit, turn patrui tumulo. Sir Nicholas Bacon, Lord Keeper to Queen Eliza- beth, himself famous, more famous as father of his greater son, reposed under a stately canopy. Half of Bacon's statue, in armour, survived the fire : — Hie Nicolaum ne Baconem conditum existima, ilium tamdiu Britannici regni secundum columen. Exitium malis, bonis asylum; caeca quem non extulit ad bunc honorem Sors ; sed Equitas, Fides, Doctrina, Pietas, unica et Prudentia : Neu morte raptum crede ; Qui unica brevi vita perenni emerit duas, agit vitam secundam coelites inter animas. Fama implet orbem, vita, quae illi tertia est. Sir Thomas Baskervyle commanded the Queen's army in Picardy : — These are the glories of a worthy praise, Which (noble Baskervyle) here now are read In honour of thy life and latter days, To number thee among the blessed dead. A pure regard to thy immortal part, A spotless mind, a body prone to pain. A giving hand and an unvanquished heart. And all these virtues, void of all disdain. And all these virtues, yet not so unknown But Netherlands, Seas, India, Spain, and France Can witness that these honours were thine own. Which they reserve, thy merit to advance, That valour should not perish void of fame. For noble deeds but leave a noble name.'' He died in France in 1597. * These epitaphs will be found in Dugdale, pp. 50, 65, and 72. v^'ZH&:::),m. Fragment of the Tomb of Sir Nicholas Bacon preserved in the Crypt r ( ( • « c < C t « * • Greater names are to eome. If the dust of any of our glorious Englishmen deserved perpetual honour, if any tomb ought to have remained inviolate, few would deserve that homage more fully than that of Sir Philip Sidney. From the field of Zutphen the remains of Sidney were brought to rest in the Cathe- dral of St. Paul : — England, Netherlands, the Heavens, and the Arts, The Souldiers, and the World, have made six parts Of noble Sidney; for none will suppose That a small heape of stones can Sidney enclose. His body hath England, for she it bred ; Netherlands bis blood, in her defence shed ; The Heavens have his soule, the Arts have his fame, All Souldiers the grief, the World his good name.y The poetry of Sidney's life outshines the poetry of his writings. It has all the nobleness of expiring chivalry without its barbarity. He did more gallant acts than most of Elizabeth's greatest warriors, and spoke bolder words to his haughty mistress than her wisest counsellors. As a poet — a poet must have been great to have shone in the age of Spenser and Shakspeare — he is almost alone in his glory in St. Paul's. St. Paul's has no Poet's Corner, in which our unrivalled masters of verse repose, or have monuments raised to their honour. If Sidney had never written a verse, his prose Defence of Poesy might alone have enrolled him in that immortal band. Of all monu- ments in St. Paul's (it was but a tablet of wood), that of Sir Philip Sidney is the one the loss of which is y Dugdale, p. 72. 44 m. I ad's. most deeply to be deplored. Ouglit it not to be replaced 1 XXY. Near to Philip Sidney rested Francis Wal- singham, the wisest, after Cecil, of Elizabeth's coun- sellors ; the man whose lynx-like sagacity, the more the secrets of the diplomacy during that reign are re- vealed, becomes more manifest. There was not a Cabinet in Europe of which Walsingham did not know the most secret proceedings, where he had not his agencies ; every word, uttered or written, friendly or unfriendly to England or England's Queen, found its way to his ear. If he stooped to craft, it was to counterwork craft even more unscrupulous than his own. After his long and weary and ill-rewarded life (he spent his whole fortune in the Queen's service, whose hard frugality refused him any remuneration), he found repose beneath the pavement of St. Paul's. His Latin epitaph spoke for once the truth and no more than the truth. After reciting his services in France, in Belgium, in Scotland, in England — ' Quibus in muneribus tanta cum prudentia, abstinentia, muni- ficentia, moderatione, pietate, industria et soUicitudine versatus est, ut a multis periculis patriam liberarit, servarit rempublicam, confirmarit pacem, juvare cunctos studerit, inprimis quos doctrina aut bellica virtus commendarit : seipsum denique neglexerit, quo prodesset aliis, eosque valetudinis et facultatum suarum dispendio sublevaret.' The English verses, if not very free and harmonious, strike his character with the force of truth : — ■ Combe oi Mnlm^^nm mh pattoit. 45 Eight gentle Eeader, be it known to thee, A famous Knight doth here interred lie, Noble by birth, renown'd for policie. Confounding foes which wrought our jeopardie. In foreign coun^tries their intents he knew : Such was his zeal to do his country good. When dangers would by enemies ensue As well as they themselves he understood. There are below two mysterious lines, as if he had not died by fair means : — In England Death cut oif his dismal days, Not wrong'd by Death, but by false Treachery.' After these came a far less worthy man, but interred with much greater pomp, and covered by a more sumptuous monument. From his splendid palace in Hatton Garden (the plunder of the See of Ely) was borne, with a magnificent procession, Sir Christopher Hatton, Lord Chancellor and Keeper of the Great Seal. A most stately pyramidal monument was erected in his honour, insolently crowding up the space in which rested Sidney and Walsingham. Pub- lic indignation, in his own day, broke out — • Philip and Francis they have no tomb For great Christopher takes all the room. These verses outlived the florid eulogy and the long bad poetry inscribed on Hatton's monument. Bishop Corbet, in the next reign, in his verses on Bishop Bavis, perpetuated the protest : — « Dugdale, p. 67 46 ^t. faurg. Nor need the Chancellor hoast, whose pyramid Above the host and altar reared is, For though thy body fill a viler room, Thou shalt not change deedes with him for his tomb. After Elizabeth, great names become more and more rare. XXVI. Of men of letters the burial registers of St. Paul's were lamentably barren. There were a few civil lawyers, distinguished no doubt in their day, now forgotten even in Doctors' Commons. Lily the grammarian, the second master of St. Paul's School ; Linacre, the physician, the friend of Colet and of Erasmus, are the best. We must absolutely sink down (can we sink lower T) to Owen, the Latin epi- grammatist, a man, however, of no slight note in his day, as his magniloquent epitaph shows : — Parva tibi statua est, quia parva statura : supellex Parva, volat parvus magna per ora liber. Sed non parvus honos, non parva est gloria^ quippe Ingenio baud quicquam majus in orbe tuo. Parva domus texit, templum sed grande. Poetae Tum vere vitam, cum moriuntur. agunt.* There were not even, as far as can be traced, any of the more famous citizens of London, the merchant princes of their day, interred in the Cathedral. No inscription boasts that the deceased had borne the honourable title of Lord Mayor, excepting one. Thei-e was a sumptuous tomb to a man who had been Lord Mayor, between that of Colet and that of Sir William a Dugdale, p. 40. Cockayne. There is a singular history attached to this Sir William Hewet. Much of his splendid for- tune, an estate of 6,000^. a year, through a romance of real life, devolved on the OsLornes, the ancestors of the Dukes of Leeds. Sir William Hewet lived on London Bridge : he had three sons and one only daughter. When quite an infant, the maid-servant let the daughter fall into the river. A young gentle- man, named Osborne, apprentice to Sir William, plunged in after her, and, at the peril of his life, brought her safe to land. Sir William, having refused splendid offers for the hand of his daughter (one of them no less than the Earl of Shrewsbury), bestowed her upon Osborne, ' Osborne saved her ; Osborne shall have her.' With his daughter he left part of his noble estate ; the first opening of the fortunes of the House of Osborne, which culminated in the famous Earl of Danby. XXYII. At the time of the Fire William San- croft was Dean of St. Paul's. His obstinate piety clung to the ruins ; but in a sermon before the King, October 10, 1666, highly to his credit, he contemptu- ously repudiated the idea that the Fire had been the work of incendiaries. This sermon must have been preached in some part of the ruined Cathedral. * His compassions fail not, that God hath left us yet a holy place to assemble in, solemnly to acknowledge, as we do this day, His most miraculous mercy : that when all our wit was puzzled, and all our industry tired out ; when the wind ^8 m. |aars. was at the highest, and the fire at the hottest, when all our hopes were now giving up the ghost, then He . . . restrained also on a sudden the fury of that merciless and unruly element. A temporary choir had, in fact, been hastily fitted up at the west end, thought the safest part of the ruins, the east being utterly desolate. These hopes of restoration, or even of temporary occupation, soon came to a disastrous end. Bancroft writes to Wren, April 25, 1668: — 'Science at the height you are master of it, is prophetic too. What you whispered in my ear at your last coming hither, is now come to pass. Our work at the west end of St. Paul's is fallen about our ears. Your quick eye discerned the walls and pillars gone off from their perpendiculars, and, I believe, other defects too, which are now exposed to every common observer.' The third pillar from the west, on the south side, which they had new cased with stone, fell with a sudden crash ; the next, bigger than the rest, stood alone, certain to fall, yet so unsafe, that they dared not ven- ture to take it down. In short, the whole work of Inigo Jones was so defective in construction and so overloaded as to threaten a total wreck. . . . And Sanscroft adds, 'You are so absolutely necessary to us that we can do nothing, resolve on nothing, without you.' ^ XXYIII. From that time the doom of old St. Paul's was irrevocably sealed. Nothing now re- fa This letter is in D'Oyly'a Life of Bancroft, vol. i. p. 141. mained but to clear away every vestige of the ancient fabric, and build a new one worthy of the nation and of the City — the Christian nation, the Christian City. Was, then, the Fire of London, if so remorseless, so fatal a destroyer"? Are we to mourn with unmitigated sorrow over the demolition of old St. Paul's? Of England's more glorious Cathedrals, none probably could have been so well spared. Excepting its vast size, it had nothing to distinguish it. It must have been a gloomy ponderous pile. The nave and choir were of different ages (that was common), but ill formed, ill adjusted together, with disproportioned aisles, and transepts, and a low, square, somewhat clumsy tower, out of which once rose a spire, tall indeed, but merely built of woodwork and lead. London would, at best, have been forced to bow its head before the cathedrals of many of our provincial cities. Old St. Paul's had nothing of the prodigal magnificence, the .harmonious variety of Lincoln, the stately majesty of York, the solemn grandeur of Can- terbury, the perfect sky-aspiring unity of Salisbury. It had not even one of the great conceptions which are the pride and boast of some of our other churches ; neither the massy strength of Durham 'looking eternity ' with its marvellous Galilee, nor the tower of Gloucester, nor the lantern of Ely, nor the rich picturesqueness of Beverley, nor the deep receding, highly decorated arches of the west front of Peter- borough. And of ancient St. Paul's the bastard Gothic of Inigo Jones had cased the venerable, if de- E 50 Bf. lattl's. cayed, walls tlirougliOTit with a jflat incongruous facing. The unrivalled beauty of Inigo Jones's ' Portico ' was the deformity of the church. Even in its immediate neighbourhood, though wanting a central tower, and its western towers, not too successfully afterwards added by Sir Christopher Wren, the Abbey, with its fine soaring columns, its beautiful proportions, its solemn, grey, diapered walls — the Abbey, with its in- tricate chapels, with its chambers of royal tombs, with Henry YII.'s Chapel, an excrescence indeed, but in sufilcient harmony with the main building, in itself an inimitable model of its style, crowned by its richly fretted roof — the Abbey of Westminster would have put to perpetual shame the dark unimpressive pile of the City of London : Westminster modestly reposing in its lower level — St. Paul's boastfully loading its more proud, but more obtrusive eminence. XXIX. The rebuilding of St. Paul's Cathedral was at once (the necessary delay of a few years inter- vening) assumed as a national work. It rested not with the Bishop, the Dean and Chapter, or the City of London. The King, the whole nobility, Parliament, without demur, recognised the paramount duty of erect- ing a splendid Cathedral, worthy of the metropolis, worthy of England. It was not, however, till November 12, 1^73, that letters patent, under the Great Seal of England, were issued, announcing the determination to erect a new Cathedral : — * Inasmuch as it is now become absolutely necessary totally to demolish and to raze to the gi'ound all tlie relics of the former building, and in the same place, but upon new foundations, to erect a new Church; wherefore that it may be done to the glory of God, and for the promotion of the divine service therein to be celebrated, and to the end that the same may equal if not exceed the splendour and magnificence of the former Cathedral Church when it was in its best estate, and so become, much more than formerly, the principal ornament of our Royal City, to the honour of our government and this our realm.' The warrant proceeds to state that the King had seen and ap- proved a design for the new Cathedral, by Dr. Chris- topher Wren, Surveyor-General of our Works and Buildings, and has ordered a working-model to be made thereof. The warrant is addressed to the Lord Mayor, for the time bt'ing, of the City of London, who takes precedence, even of Gilbert, Archbishop of Can- terbury, to Shaftesbury, Lord Chancellor, the Arch- bishop of York, and all the great officers of State, the Bishop of London and other Bishops, the Judges, the Dean and Residentiaries of St. Paul's. These all (with others) are appointed Commissioners for the rebuilding, new erecting, and adorning the said Cathedral Church of St. Paul in London, on the same churchyard, upon new foundations and according to the design and model above mentioned. Six Commissioners were to be a quorum, of which the Bishop of London, or the Dean of St. Paul's, for the time being, to be one. The powers of the Commissioners wiere ample. They were to call to their assistance such skilful artists, officers, E 2 ■62 ^i lattl's. and workmen, as they shall think fit, to pay proper salaries, to issue orders and instructions as to the money brought into the treasury, to keep the books and accounts controlled and audited ; finally, to ad- vise, treat, and consider, of all other things, ways, and means, for the better advancement and perfecting of the same. There was a provision — alas ! forgotten, at least not carried out — to frame orders for the ' better preservation and maintenance of the said Cathedral Church in time to come, and for the preventing and suppressing of all present and future annoyances, pur- prestures, and encroachments, which do, shall, or may in any way tend to the damage or hurt, blemishing or disgrace, of the same.' XXX. The design for the building of the new Cathedral required some time for its completion, vast sums for its execution. The cost was to be defrayed, partly by subscriptions to be raised throughout the kingdom, partly by taxation on the City of London and Westminster. The accounts of the receipts under each of these heads from the year 1664 (the subscrip- tions and expenditure on the repairs before the Fire are included) are stated at length in Ellis's * Dugdale.' The subscriptions were headed by the King, who ordered that 1,000?. should be contributed annually in quarterly payments from his privy purse. But we seek in vain for this payment; King Charles II. 's privy purse was exhausted, no doubt, by other than pious uses. One donation appears out of impropria- tions due to the King and not pardoned, 1,627?. 9*. S^d, In 1676 appears his Majesty's gift from ' Green Wax Forfeitures/ 163^. I8s. So ends the Koyal Bounty. Primate Sheldon, as was his wont, was munificent. The total amount of his subscription (Juxon had left a considerable legacy for the repaii-s of St. Paul's) was 2,000^. The Bishop of London (Henchman) subscribed largely and left a considerable bequest. Of the other Bishops, Morley of Winchester, and Crew of Durham, were liberal contributors. There was a commutation of charges on Bishops, on promotion, in lieu of gloves, 50^. On consecration, lOOZ. Parochial subscriptions came in from all the dioceses of England. But, after all, the chief expenditure was borne by the coal duty, granted by Parliament, and renewed from time to time, at varying rates, varying also in its apportionment. The tax was granted to the City of London, in stated proportions, for the building of St. Paul's, and of the other City churches, and for general improvements. By the second Act one moiety of 35. per chaldron was given to the City ; of the other, 1 S^d. went to the other churches ; 4-^d. to St. Paul's. This, as all London was supplied with seaborne coal, and the duty could be easily and fairly collected, was, perhaps, as equitable a tax as could be devised ; the rich gene- rally in their palaces consuming, in proportion, more fuel than the poor in their tenements. The coal has had its revenge on the public buildings, especially on St. Paul's, by the damage which it did and still does by its smoke. The total receipts for the Cathedral from August 5, 1664, to March 1685, amounted to 54 ^t. Raul's. 126,604^. Qs. 6d. The total disbursements on all ac- counts to 1 2 4,26 U. 45. lie?. By a fire at Guildhall, the later subscription lists, copies of which had not been sent to the muniment room at St. Paul's, were irrecoverably lost. A second commission was opened on the accession of James II., not differing much in its powers and provisions." XXXI. Sir Christopher Wren was designated in the King's Commission as the architect of the new Cathedral. Wren, as we have seen, had been em- ployed to survey the old fabric. To Wren Sancroffc had looked in his despair, when his temporary edifice threatened to fall on his head. Wren had already been employed by the King's authority to make the design which he was to execute. Wren, in truth, stood alone as an architect without rival or competi- tor. He was chosen, not by the King's will alone, but, it may be said, by general acclamation. But what was to be the style and character of the Cathedral about to rise in the metropolis of England, worthy of her piety, her wealth, and her fame ? Of this, at that time, and with Wren for the architect, there could be no doubt. Gothic architecture all over Christendom was dead. In England, its last refuge, it had expired in what after all were but Collegiate and E-oyal Chapels — King's at Cambridge, Henry YII.'s at Westminster. Throughout Europe Gothic and ' barbarous ' bore the same meaning ; Ca- « See Annals of St. PauVs, cap. xvii., and Elmes's ilfeffiotVs of the Life and Works of Sir Christopher Wren. J 3 i i D > J J > 5 3 » J J J > » 5 5 J J > ) Sir Christopher Wren From a Portrait bj Kneller in the Gallery ol the Royal Society St. ^thx's, 55 tholicism had revived under the Jesuit reaction ; but her churches affected the Classical Renaissance style. St. Peter's was the unrivalled pride of the Chris- tian world, the all-acknowledged model of church architecture. To rival St. Peter's, to approach its unapproachable grandeur, was a worthy object of ambition to an English, a Protestant architect. St. Peter's had been built from the religious tribute of the whole Christian world ; it might be said, at the cost of a revolution which severed half the world from the dominion of Rome. It had been commenced at least by payments out of the sins of mankind. It had wrought up the doctrine of Indulgences to such a height, to such a revolting excess in the hands of papal fanatics, as to force the awakening world to resistance. If Julius II. had not begun, if Leo had not continued, the Church of St. Peter, Luther would at least have wanted one note of that fierce trumpet blast with which he woke the world. St. Peter's had been the work of about twenty Popes, from Julius II. to Urban YIII. It was its misfortune rather than its boast, that it had com- manded in succession the creative powers of many men of the most transcendent genius, who had each his conception and his plan. The consequence was that, instead of advancing, it degenerated, both in grandeur and beauty, perhaps from Bramante and San Gallo, certainly from Michael Angelo and Fontana, tiU, in the bitter words of an English writer, *a paltry plasterer from Como, Carlo Mademo, marred 56 ^t |a«r«. the beauty of the great design, and ill-completed what had been so nobly begun.' St. Paul's is the creation of one mind ; it is one great harmonious conception ; it was begun and completed, so far as the exterior at least, during the life of that one man. St. Peter's unquestionably, beyond its more vast and imposing dimensions, has some insuperable advantages. Let us imagine what would be the effect of St. Paul's, rising in its grace and majesty, and basking in the cloudless sunlight of the Italian heavens, instead of brooding under a dense and murky canopy of vapour up to a pale and lifeless sky. See too the vast open area in which St. Peter's stands, with Bernini's porticos, large enough for effect, yet in humble subordination to the vast fabric which they enclose, with the obelisks and fountains, all in fine proportion. Even the Vatican on one side, a picturesque pile of irregular buildings, leaves the fagade undisturbed, and sets off rather than encumbers the immense edifice to which it is attached. But against this might have been set the one great advantage of which St. Paul's ought to have fully availed itself. St. Paul's, instead of crouching on a flat level, stands on a majestic eminence, overlooking the City and looked up to from every part. It has but one street of approach ; alas ! only a narrow esplanade before its west front. The street, moreover, does not come up bold and straight, but with an awkward obliquity ; while on all sides the buildings, which Wren kept down to the level of humbler vassals, now aspire to be almost rivals in height. t ( t t ( ' ( < < ( ( C r c < < c XXXII. ^Nevertheless, what building in its ex- terior form does not bow its head before St. Paul's 1 What eye, trained to all that is perfect in architectui-e, does not recognise the inimitable beauty of its lines, the majestic yet airy swelling of its dome, its rich harmonious ornamentation? It is singular, too, that St. Paul's, which, by its grandeur, of old asserted its uncontested dignity, as a crown and glory of London, now that it is invaded, far and near, by huge tall fabrics, railway termini, manufactories, and magazines, with immense chimneys, still appears at a distance with a grace which absolutely fascinates the eye, the more exquisite from the shapelessness of all around, and of all within a wide range about it. Mr. Fer- gusson, though sternly impartial and impatient of some defects which strike his fastidious judgment, writes : ' It will hardly be disputed that the exterior of St. Paul's surpasses in beauty of design all the other examples of the same class which have yet been carried out ; and whether seen from a distance or near, it is, externally at least, one of the grandest and most beautiful churches in Europe.' But with the match- less exterior ceases the superiority, and likewise, to a great degree, the responsibility of Wren. His designs for the interior were not only not carried out, but he was in every way thwarted, controlled, baffled in his old age, to the eternal disgrace of all concerned ; the victim of the pitiful jealousy of some, the ignorance of others, the ingratitude of all. XXXIII. Wren, it is well known, made two 58 St. |aurs. designs for St. Paul's. Which of the two is that mentioned in the Royal Commission of 1673 is not quite clear. The first exists in the model, long pre- served in what was called the Trophy Room, in the Cathedral. It unfortunately has suffered much from neglect, decay, and the uncontrolled mischief of visitors. That which was one of its noblest features — ^its long stately western portico — has entirely disappeared. This design was a Greek cross. Wren, it is said, preferred it as a model for a Protestant cathedral. But the form, that of a Greek cross surmounted by a dome, goes back to a much earlier period, to St. Sophia at Constantinople, and to the old Justinian Church at Ravenna. The Byzantine cross, it is said, did not please the clergy in the Commission as not sufficiently of a cathedral form. The author of the * Parentalia * calls the new plan, ' the Gothic rectified to a better manner of architecture,' ^ that is, the plan was that of the old cathedrals, the architecture in the later classical style. There is a tradition that the recesses along the aisles of the nave were insisted upon by James II., whether as Duke of York or as King. He looked forward to the time when the Roman Catholic worship would take possession of the new Cathedral ; and then the line of chapels, wanting only their altars, would be ready for the daily masses. XXXIY. The King's warrant, which followed d Mr. Ashpitel, in the Transactions of the London and Middle- sex ArchcBological Society (vol. iii. pt. vii.) has given a very useful list and description of Wren's drawings relating to St. Paul's, pre- served in the library of All Souls, Oxford. Plan of St Paul's as criginallj designed by Sir Christopher Wren about a year and a half after the appointment of the Commission, was dated May 14, 1675. The warrant states, that ' We have been informed that a portion of the duty on coal, which by Act of Parliament is appointed and set apart for the rebuilding of the Cathedral Church of St. Paul in our capital City of London, doth at present amount to a considerable sum, which, though not proportionate to the greatness of the work, is notwithstanding sufficient to begin the same.' It then goes on to empower the Commission to pro- ceed according to the design chosen by the King in Council. ' The King, however,' writes the author of the ' Parentalia,' ' allowed the architect to make altera- tions in his design as he pleased, and most properly left the whole to his management.' ® The architect himself had the honoiir of laying the first stone (June 21, 1675). There was no solemn ceremonial ; neither the King nor any of the Court, nor the Primate, nor the Bishop (Henchman died in the course of that year) ; not even, it should seem, was Dean Sancroffc, or the Lord Mayor, present. A ciurious incident, however, not long afterwards occurred, which was taken notice of by some people as a memorable omen. When the surveyor in person had set out upon the place the dimensions of the great dome, a common labourer was ordered to bring a flat stone from the heaps of rubbish (such as should first come to hand), to be laid for a mark and direction to « There is in Elmes's Life of Wren a statement of these varia- tions, as sho-w-n in the drawings in All Souls Library, p. 317 et seq. 60 ^t lattl's. the masons ; the stone which, he immediately brought, and laid down for the purpose, happened to be a piece of a gravestone, with nothing remaining of the in- scription but this single word in large capitals, RE- SURGAM/ XXXT. The removal of the ruins of the old Ca- thedral was a long and difficult process. Obstinate old St. Paul's would not surrender possession of the ground which it had occupied for so many centuries. The work had to be done by hard manual labour. Wren tried the novel experiment of blowing up the tower, the firmest part, with gunpowder; but the alarm caused by the first explosion, at the second, a fatal accident — the loss of a life by the mismanagement of the persons employed — threw him back on more tedious tools, the pickaxe and shovel. He invented a sort of catapult or battering-ram, with which he beat down the more solid walls.? Before the new edifice could begin to rise, the wise architect, who boasted that he was building for eter- nity, after the Scriptural monition, would carefully examine what was to be its foundation — the hard rock or the shifting sand. The discovery of the ancient cemetery under part of the foundations has been already described : graves of several ages and fashions, in strata or layers of earth, one above another, ' from the British and Roman times.' But when searching *■ Parentalia, p. 292. 8 There is a full description of the work in the Parentalia, pp. 283-285. c#0«:nbati0jr of t^t Cat^ebral 61 for tlie natural ground below these graves, the sur- veyor observed, * that the foundation of the old church stood upon a layer of very close and hard pot-earth, and concluded that the same ground which had borne so weighty a building might reasonably be trusted again. However, he had thecuiiosity to search further, and accordingly dug wells in several places, and dis- cerned the hard pot-earth to be on the north side of the churchyard about six feet thick and more, but thinner and thinner towards the south, till it was, upon the declining of the hill, scarce four feet : still he searched lower, and found nothing but dry sand, mixed un- equally, but loose, so that it would run through the fingers. He went on, till he came to water and sand mixed with periwinkles and other sea-shells. These were about the level of low-water mark. He continued boring till he came to hard beach, and still under that, till he came to the natural hard clay, which lies under the City and country and Thames far and wide.' ' By these shells it was evident that the sea had been where the hill is on which St. Paul's stands.' On these grounds, Wren imagined a bold theory of a frith or bay, spreading from Camberwell hill to the Essex hills, which had left its memorial shells under the pot-earth, which had formed over it on the site of the Cathedral. Geology, which since Wren's days has advanced from a succession of fantastic theories to a science, re- fuses to accept Wren's daring hypothesis. It has been conclusively established by Sir Charles Lyell and Mr. 62 ft. |aur^. Prestwich, that the shells, the sole apparent strength, but in fact the weakness, of Wren's theory, were not marine but fluviatile. It is clear, at all events, that whatever its origin (of which, indeed, there can be no doubt), this layer of loose sand underlies the firm pot-earth or loam which thins out towards the south. This cannot be too widely known, and the possible consequence of its oozing out cannot be too jealously watched. It fully justifies the apprehension of the late accomplished and scientific surveyor, Mr. R. Cockerell, who when a deep sewer was commenced on the south side of the Cathe- dral, came to Dean Milman, in much alarm. On the representation of the Dean and Mr. Cockerell, the work was stopped by the authorities of the City. Even the digging of graves in the part of the crypt which be- longs to the parish of St. Faith (now happily at an end) was thought not altogether free from danger. In completing the foundations, Wren was arrested by another unexpected difficulty. This must be de- scribed in his own words : — ' In the progi-ess of the works of the foundations, the surveyor met with one unexpected difficulty ; he began to lay the foundations from the west end, and had proceeded successfully through the dome to the east end, where the brick- earth bottom was yet very good ; but as he went on to the north-east corner, which was the last, and where nothing was expected to interrupt, he fell, in prosecut- ing the design, upon a pit, whence all the pot-earth has been robbed by the potters of old times. Here were discovered quantities of urns, broken vessels, and pottery-ware of divers sorts and shapes ; how far that part extended northwards there was no occasion to examine. . . . ' It was no little perplexity to fall into this pit at last. He wanted but six or seven feet to complete the design, and this fell on the very angle north-east ; he knew very well that under the layer of pot-earth there was no other ground to be found till he came to the low-water mark of the Thames, at least forty feet lower. His artificers proposed to him to pile, which he refused ; for though piles may last for ever, when always in water (otherwise London Bridge would fall), yet if they are driven through dry sand, though some- what moist, they will rot ; his endeavours were to build for eternity. He therefore sunk a foot about eighteen inches square, wharfing up the sand with timber, till he came forty feet lower into water and sea-shells, where there was a fine beach, . . . ; he bored through the beach till he came to the original clay ; being then satisfied, he began from the beach a square pier of solid good masonry, ten feet sqiiare, till he came within fifteen feet of the present ground, then he turned a short arch underground to the former foundation, which was broken off by the untoward accident of the pit. Thus this north-east corner of the quire stands very firm, and no doubt will stand.' XXXYI. Wren must be heard again on the reasons for changing the site of the church, and taking up all the old foundations. They were chiefly these : 64 ^t. ^aurs. * First, the Act of Parliament for rebuilding the City had enacted that all the high streets (of which that which leads round the south side of St. Paul's was one) should be forty feet wide, but the old foundations straitened the street towards the east to under thirty feet. Secondly, the churchyard on the north side was wider, and afforded room that way to give the new fabric a more free and graceful aspect. Thirdly, to have built on the old foundations must have confined the surveyor too much to the old plan and form. The ruinous walls in no part were to be trusted again, nor would the old and new work firmly unite or stand together without cracks.' It being found therefore expedient to change the foundations. Wren took the advantage of more room northward, ' and laid the middle line of the new work, more declining to the north-east than it was before, which was not due east and west ; neither did the old front of the Cathedral lie directly from Ludgate as it does not at present, which was not practicable, with- out purchasing and taking down a great number of houses, and the aid of Parliament.' This, though much wished for, he was not able to effect. The Com- missioners for rebuilding the City had in the first place marked and staked out the streets, and the Par- liament had confirmed their report, before anything had been fully determined about the design for the new fabric. ' The proprietors of the ground with much eagerness and haste had begun to build accord- ingly ; an incredible progress had been made in a very ^xoQXtSB of t^e Wioxk 65 short time ; many large and fair houses erected ; and every foot of ground in that trading and populous part of the town was highly estimated.* ^ Thus was lost, it is to be feared for ever, the opportunity of placing the Cathedral of London on an esplanade worthy of its consummate design ; an esplanade which, we might almost say, nature, by leaving a spacious level on the summit of the hill, had designated for .a noble and commanding edifice. XXXVII. The foundation determined and laid, St. Paul's began to rise, and continued to rise, without check or interruption. The coal duty, on every change of sovereign or dynasty and Parliament, was continued and was paid, it would seem, without mui'mur or diffi- culty. The quarries of Portland supplied their excellent stone in abundance ; Wren might seem as if he ruled over the vassal island; roads were made to convey the stone with the gi'eatest facility to the port. An *> In order to carry out the improvements in the crypt, which will presently be referred to, it became necessary to move from under one of the arches of the western crypt the huge gas meter which blocked it up, and for which a pit was dug on the outside to the south of the nave. In sinking this pit pieces of stonework were found which had clearly some connection with the old fabric, and further excavations being made, fragments of the old buildings were disclosed, furnishing data upon which Mr, F. C. Penrose has been able to show the exact correlation between the old and nev/ fabric, and the deflection of the axis of the choir of the present cathedral, which explains the apparent error in the plan preserved amongst the Wren collection in All Souls' Library, Oxford, re- presenting the new cathedral placed upon the old. An account of these very interesting discoveries, and of their bearing upon the history of old and new St. Paul's, was given by Mr. Penrose to the Royal Institute of British Architects in a pap' r read before the Society January 27, 1879. F 66 ^t lattl's. admirable and obedient regiment of masons and work- men was organised. Strong, his master-mason, assisted in laying the first stone, June 21, 1675, and in fixing the last in the lantern. St. Paul's arose, and the architect pursued his work undisturbed by the great political changes which gave a new line of kings to the throne of England and perfected our constitution. On December 2, 1697, twenty-two years after the laying of the first stone, the Cathedral of St. Paul was opened for divine service. It was a great national pomp to commemorate an event of the highest national importance, the thanksgiving day for the Peace of Ryswick. Since that time the services have gone on uninterruptedly in Wren's St. Paul's. XXXVIII. In 1710 Sir Christopher Wren, by the hands of his son, attended by Mr. Strong, the master mason who had executed the whole work, and the body of Freemasons, of which Sir Christopher was an active member, laid the last and highest stone of the lantern of the cupola, with humble prayers for the Divine blessing on his work.* If ever there was an occasion on which the heart of man might swell with pardonable pride, it was the heart of Wren at that hour, whether he himself was actually at the giddy summit of the building, or watched his son's act from below. The architect looked down, or looked up and around, on this great * In the Wren MS. there is a sentence which impKes the pre- sence of Wren himself at that giddy height, perhaps too much for his advanced age. — Ehnes, p. 493. ITagmg t^t last ^tom. 67 and matchless building, the creation of his own mind, the achievement of his sole care and skill ; the whole building stretching out in all its perfect harmony, with its fine horizontal lines, various yet in perfect unison, its towers, its unrivalled dome, its crowning lantern and cross. All London had poured forth for the spectacle, which had been publicly announced, and were looking up in wonder to the old man, or his son, if not the old man himself, who was, on that wondrous height, setting the seal, as it were, to his august labours. If in that wide circle (let us, however doubtful, lift the old man to that proud eminence), which his eye might embrace, there were various ob- jects for regret and disappointment ; if instead of be- holding the spacious streets of the City, each converg- ing to its centre, London had sprung up and spread in irregular labyrinths of close, dark, intricate lanes ; if even his own Cathedral was crowded upon and jostled by mean and unworthy buildings ; yet, on the other hand, he might survey, not the Cathedral only, but a number of stately churches, which had risen at his command and taken form and dignity from his genius and skill. On one side the picturesque steeple of St. Mary-le-Bow, on the other the exquisite tower of St. Bride's, with all its graceful gradually diminish- ing circles, not yet shorn of its full and finely propor- tioned height. Beyond and on all sides, if more dimly seen, yet discernible by his partial eyesight (he might even penetrate to the inimitable interior of St. Stephen's, Walbrook), church after church, as far as p2 68 Mt Raul's. St. Dunstan-in-the-East, perhaps Greenwich, may have been vaguely made out in the remote distance. And all this one man had been permitted to conceive and execute ; a man not originally destined or educated for an architect, but compelled, as it were, by the public necessities to assume the office, and so to fulfil it, as to stand on a level with the most consummate masters of the art in Europe, and to take his stand on an eminence which his English successors almost de- spair of attaining. XXXIX. Wren descended from this lofty eleva- tion, or awoke from his ennobling contemplation, not to meet with homage, not with ardent admiration, not with merited gratitude from the Church, the City, the nation for his wonderful work, but to encounter petty yet presumptuous jealousy, injustice, hostility, even — the word must be spoken — unprovoked malignity, and finally absolute degradation, as far as mean men could degrade one like Wren. Yet everywhere but at St. Paul's, Wren was at the undisputed height of his power and influence. No great building could be erected or remodelled without the judgment, skill, and science of Wren : Greenwich Hospital, Chelsea Hospital, Hampton Court, not a few of the most important churches in London and West- minster (as St. James's, Westminster), the great country houses of the nobility, as Audley End. West- minster Abbey, the rival of St. Paul's, was placed under his care. It might be supposed that the in- exhaustible fertility, the indefatigable activity of "Wren would be overwlielnied with these accumulated labours ; and the slow progress, as it seemed to those who knew little of such works, of the Cathedral might be attributed to these distracting occupations. But after the design had been finally determined, and the working drawings executed, the task of architect and surveyor was only that of superintendence and control, with vigilant care of coiu'se that everything was well and solidly done, and with a general responsibility for each and for every part. How conscientiously and wisely and fully Wren discharged these functions the Cathedral bears unanswerable witness. With a most scanty and inadequate fund for repairs, it is now, after nearly two centuries, the marvel of its successive gifted surveyors for its unshaken, undecayed solidity of sub- stantial structure, and, unless from miserable parsimony or unforeseen contingencies, may seem almost, as Wren boasted, built for eternity. XL.J The form of St. Paul's, of which some de- scription must now be given in detail, is that of the long or Latin Cross. Its extreme length, including the porch, is 500 feet ; the greatest breadth, that is to say, across the transept but within the doors of the porticoes, 250 feet; the width of the nave, 118 feet. There are, however, at the foot or western end of the cross, projections northward and southward, which J See History of the Three Cathedrals dedicated to St. Paul in London. This and the six following sections are taken with per- mission from Mr. William Longman's elaborate description of the modern Cathedral, which again was compiled chiefly from the writings of Mr. Joseph Gwilt and of Sir Henry Ellis. 70 ^t Raul's. make the breadth 190 feet. One of these, that, namely, on the north side, is used as a morning chapel, and the other, on the south side, contains the Wellington Monument, but was formerly used as the Consistory Court. At the internal angle of the cross are small square, bastion-like adjuncts, whose real use is to strengthen the piers of the dome ; but they are in- wardly serviceable as vestries and a staircase. The height of the Cathedral on the south side to the top of the cross is 365 feet. XLI. The exterior consists throughout of two orders, the lower being Corinthian, the upper com- posite. It is built externally in two stories, in both of which, except at the north and south porticoes and at the west front, the whole of the entablatures rest on coupled pilasters, between which in the lower order a range of circular-headed windows is introduced. But in the order above, the corresponding spaces are occu- pied by dressed niches standing on pedestals pierced with openings to light the passages in the roof over the side aisles. The upper order is nothing but a screen to hide the flying buttresses carried across from the outer walls to resist the thrust of the great vaulting. The west front has a magnificent portico, divided, like the rest of the building, into two stories. The lower consists of twelve coupled and fluted columns, that above has only eight, which bear an entablature and pediment, of which the tympanum is sculptured in bas-relief, rejH'esenting the conversion of St. Paul. On the apex of the pediment is a figure of the Saint himself, i 3 J J i'» West View of St Paul's I ( « I < t ' ( 1 ^xUxkx. 71 and at its extremities on the right and left of St. Paul are figures of St. Peter and St. James. The transepts are terminated upwards by pediments, over coupled pilasters at the quoins, and two single pilasters in the intermediate space. On each side of the western por- tico a square pedestal rises over the upper order, and on each pedestal a steeple or campanile tower, supported upon triangular groups of Corinthian columns finishing in small domes, formed by curves of contrary flexure very like bells. Lower down, in front of these cam- paniles, the four Evangelists are represented with their emblems. In the face of the southern campanile a clock is inserted, in the northern a similar opening has been left, which has never been filled up.^ A flight of steps, extending the whole length of the portico, forms its basement. XLII. On the north side is a semi-circular portico, consisting of six Corinthian columns, forty-eight inches in diameter, resting on a circular flight of twelve steps t In the south-west tower is the great bell of St. Paul's, cast in 1709 by Richard Phelps and Langley Bradley. It is ten feet in diameter, ten inches thick in metal, and weighs 11,474 pounds. The north-west tower had been carefully constructed and fitted by Sir Christopher Wren to receive a peal of bells, but down to the year 1878 it remained untenanted except by a single bell, which was tolled before morning and evening service. In 1878 the deficiency was at length supplied, and a fine peal of twelve bells, presented by the Corporation of London, certain of the City companies, and the Baroness Burdett Coutts, was hung in the tower, and was solemnly dedicated with a service in the belfry, by the Bishop and clergy and choir of the cathedral. The aggregate weight of these bells, which were cast by the Messrs. Taylor of Loughborough, is 271 cwt. 3 qrs. and 1 lb. The note of the tenor bell is B flat ; its weight is 62 cwt. 72 ^t |a«rs. of black marble, and finisbing in a semi- dome. Above is a pediment resting on pilasters in the wall, on the face of which are the Royal arms, supported by angels with palm branches, and under their feet the lion and the unicorn, the statues of five of the Apostles being placed at the top at proper distances. The south por- tico answers to the north, except that, on account of the lowness of the ground on that side of the church, it is entered by a flight of twenty-five steps. In the pediment above is represented a Phoenix rising from the flames. On the top of the pediment are five other figures of Apostles. The choir terminates eastward in a shallow semi-circular apse. Under the lower princi- pal window, beneath a crown, and surrounded by the Garter, is the cypher of King William and Queen Mary, XLIII. The dome, which is by far the most mag- nificent and elegant feature in the building, rises from the body of the church in great majesty. It is 145 feet, in outward and 108 feet in inward diameter. Twenty feet above the roof of the church is a circular range of twenty-two columns, every fourth inter- columniation being filled with masonry, so disposed as to form an ornamental niche or recess, by which ar- rangement the projecting buttresses of the cupola are concealed. These, which form a peristyle of the com- posite order with an unbroken entablature, enclose the interior order. They support a handsome gallery, adorned with a balustrade. Above these columns is a range of pilasters, with windows between them, forming an attic order, and on these the great dome stands. The general idea of the cupola, as appears from the ' Parentalia/ was taken from the Pantheon at Rome. On the summit of the dome, which is covered with lead, is a gilt circular balcony, and from its centre rises the lantern, adorned with Corinthian columns. The whole is terminated by a gilt ball and cross. XLI Y. The interior. . On ascending the steps at the west end of the church, we find three doors, orna- mented at the top with bas-reliefs; that over the middle door representing St. Paul preaching to the Bereans. The interior of the nave is formed by an arcade resting on massive pillars, and dividing the church into a body and two aisles. The pillars which carry these arches are strengthened and adorned by two orders of pilasters (excepting the westernmost arch, where the smaller order is columnar). These consist of a larger Corinthian order restricted to the central nave, and which carries the main entablature and a smaller composite order which is crowned by an architrave, interrupted only by the larger pilasters, from which spring the pier arches and the transverse ribs of the vaulting of the aisles. The archivolts of the pier- arches rise above the level of the great order, which is discontinued between the pilasters in order to permit this impropriety. Of the main entablature, the cornice only reigns throughout the church. Over this order rises a tall attic, which breaks with the entablature over each pilaster, and by its break makes an abutment- pier for the springing of semi-circular arches, which form the transverse ribs of the main vault. In each 74 ^f. I^s. severy, or portion from pilaster to pilaster (excepting the westernmost), the length is not equal to the breadth ; and this circumstance introduces a complica- tion into the vaulting. The vault is produced by a portion of a sphere, of which the centre is level with the top of the attic, and which is intersected by a true cyHnder longitudinally, and an elliptic cylinder late- rally. The former intersection necessarily coincides with the simple semi-circular transverse arches, but the latter forms groins of double curvature, which are carved into continuous narrow ribs, or bands of flowers. The spaces between these groins and the transverse ribs form pendentives for the support of the shallow dome which completes the surface. This dome, how- ever, is really part of the same sphere as the penden- tives, but is separat^ed by a bold cornice, and has the appearance of being carried by the transverse ribs and groins already described. The cornice is adorned by shields and other ornaments. The western severy of the nave is square on the plan, and consequently the regularity of the pendentives is here preserved. An- other difierence in this severy is, that the pier-arches spring from isolated columns coupled with the pilas- ters attached to the piers, and on the north and south open into the Morning Chapel and Consistory, which are both parallelograms on the plan, and are termi- nated at the eastern ends by semi-circular tribunes. The eastern piers of the nave serve at the same time for the support of the cupola. They are wider than the other piers, and are flanked by pilasters at their '> » > * o > J -J i J J ^^ WP Vaulting of the Rool, St Paul's Choir angles, and have shallow oblong recesses in the inter- columniations. The roof over these piers is a boldly coffered waggon vault, which contrasts very effectively with the rest of the vaulting. XLY. In the upright space on the walls, where intersected by the elliptic cylinders of the cross vault- ing, a clerestory is introduced over the attic order. The aisles, which are extremely low compared with the nave, are vaulted from the small composite pilasters which support the arcade of the church. The penden- tives here are regular — otherwise the treatment is ana- logons to that of the principal vault. The nave is separated from the choir by the area over which the cupola rises. From the centre of this area, the tran- septs, or traverse of the cross, diverge to the north and south, each extending one severy, or arch, in length. The choir, which is vaulted and domed over, like the nave and transepts, from the top of the attic order,, is terminated eastward by a semi-circular tribune, of which the diameter is, in general terms, the same as the width of the choir itself. The western end of * e choir has pillars similar to those at the eastern end of the nave, uniform with which there are at its eastern end piers of the same extent and form, except that they are pierced for a communication with the side aisles. Above the entablature and under the cupola is the Whispering Gallery, and in the concave above are re- presentations of the principal passages of St. Paul's life in eight compartments, painted by Sir James Thornhill.^ 1 It is proposed to replace these drawings by mosaics, designs for wliich are said to be already under consideration. 76 ^1. mnVs XLYI. The eiglit large piers under the dome are equal in size, but not equidistant. The four larger openings — forty feet wide — between the piers occupy the spaces where the nave, choir, and transepts diverge from the great circle ; the lesser ones are between them. These latter are surmounted by arches twenty-six feet wide, which spring from the architrave of the main order ; but the eight upper arches which receive the cornice of the Whispering Gallery are all equal. This is effected by extending the springing point in the attic so as to break over the re-entering angular pilasters below. The spandrels between the great arches are so wrought as to form the area into a circle, which is crowned by a large cantilever cornice, partly support- ing by its projection the Whispering Gallery. Above the cornice of the Whispering Gallery, a tall circular podium rises up for the reception of the order immedi- ately under the dome. The order is composite. Its peri- phery is divided into eight portions of three interco- liTHiiniations each, pierced for windows. Each of these divisions is separated from that adjoining it by a solid pier, one intercolumniation wide, decorated with a niche. The piers so formed connect the wall of the inner order with the external peristyle, and thus serve as counterforts to resist the thrust of the inner brick cupola, as well as of that of the conical wall (which car- ries the stone lantern, reputed to be of the enormous weight of 700 tons), neither of which are more than two bricks in thickness. The podium and order just described, which together form the ' drum ' of the ^upjporfs 0f i^t gomt. 77 cupola, incline inwards as they rise ; and it is worthy of remark, that their bearing is solely on the great arches and their pi^rs, without any false bearing on the pendentives. A plinth over the order receives the inner dome, which is of brick plastered. The plaster- ing is covered by the dull-coloured work of Sir James Thornhill. The dome is pierced with an eye in its vertex, through which a vista opens to the small dome in which the great cone terminates. XLYII. Between the inner and outer dome are stairs which ascend to the lantern. "With the object of giving additional strength to the walls supporting the dome, Wren inserted a strong iron chain in a channel in the stone. The author of the ' Parentalia ' says, ' Although the dome wants no butment, yet, for greater caution, it is hooped with iron in this manner. A channel is cut in the bandage of Portland stone, in which is laid a double chain of iron, weighing 95 cwt. 3 qrs. and 23 lbs., strongly linked together at every ten feet, and the whole channel filled up with lead. The only other point relative to the construction of St. Paul's demanding consideration, is the crypt, on which the whole building rests.' ' To the architect who builds for posterity, its plan,' says Mr. Gwilt,™ ' compared with that of the superstructure, is peculiarly instructive and interesting. The large portion of solid allotted to the piliers of the dome, and the abutmental adjuncts thereto for guarding against horizontal failure, are not only remarkable but useful examples for the study of ^ Edifices of London, Tol. i. p. 33. 78 ^f. |a»rs, the scientific artist. Commencing with the foundation in the vaults, or crypt, the cupola may be described as rising from a square basement of 190 feet, of which the solid parts are more than equal to the vacant spaces, and their thickness upwards of twenty feet.' XLYIII. The original Commission for rebuilding the Cathedral, of which these are the principal archi- tectural details, had comprehended all the highest names in Church and State. But, of course, the great officers of State became merely honorary members of such a board. The acting Commission gradually dwindled down, and fell into the hands of a few, and those assuredly not the most competent counsellors in such matters. The Commission had provided that six members must be present to conduct business, one of these the Bishop of London or the Dean of St. Paul's. The Bishop, Compton, from age (he was above seventy) ceased to take an active part ; Sherlock lived also to a great age, he died in 1707. The actual Commission shrank into six or seven. There remained the Dean and one of the Residentiaries, with their neighbours the civilians from Doctors' Commons. Dr. Battes- worth, Dean of the Arches, Sir Thomas Meeres, Queen's Advocate, a Dr. Nathaniel Lloyd, a Dr. Har- wood, and one other, established themselves as the ruling authorities. There was indeed a person on the original Commission who could appreciate and iudge of Wren, and with Wren, so long as he sur- vived, there was no collision. The accomplished Evelyn had travelled extensively and studied the arts ^0silt0it of tl^z #r0atT. 7&" with intelligence ; he had seen all the gi'eat buildings on the Continent, especially in Italy. But Evelyn, unhappily, was dead. Wren seems to have anticipated, as the wiser advisers of the Crown may have antici- pated, interference on the part of the Commission. It had been ordered, in clear and distinct terms, that nothing should be done contrary to the design and without the sanction of Wren. The first point of dispute between Wren and the Clergy has been already stated — the prolongation of the fabric from a Greek to a Latin cross ; but this had been long determined. The second was later, on the position of the organ and the organ-gallery. In this, Wren was as unquestionably right on the principles of music as on those of his own science, architecture. The more remote the organ from the choristers, the more difficult to keep the accompaniment and the chant together with that perfect harmony, which is perhaps only perceptible to cars finely gifted and sus- ceptibly instructed. The clergy insisted on the enclosure of the choir, no doubt partly for their own comfort and secluded dignity. Whether Wren designed any screen, or to what height that screen was to rise, does not appear. But he was compelled to submit, and, contrary to his judgment, to place the organ-gallery and organ upon the screen." ^ That the organ gallery over the screen was not originally con- templated, is proved unanswerably in the opinion of Mr. Penrose, from the substructure in the subterranean church. There was no 80 ^i |a»rs. XLIX. The Commission had now ebbed down to Henry Godolphin, the new Dean, Dr. Francis Hare, a residentiary, and the obsequious civilians. None of these were men of such distinction, as would give them authority on these questions. Godolphin had risen from his near relationship to Queen Anne's Minister, of whom he was the brother. Hare had been tutor to the Marquis of Blandford, Marlborough's only son j he had been Chaplain-General to the Army. Of Hare, as in some respects a remarkable man, more hereafter. The Commission even went so far as to take the painting of the cupola out of the hands of Wren; they were afterwards, on their own judgment, to call Sir James Thornhill to complete that part. Wren had designed to use mosaics largely in the internal decoration, the only safe and durable material except gilding (and some of Wren's gilding comes out when burnished and cleaned as bright as ever). But mosaic, imperishable, and that might be easily washed, would have defied time and the smoke of London. Mosaic, however, was judged too costly, and skilful artists were not immediately at hand : though it can hardly be doubted that Wren would have found or formed artists, had he been allowed free scope and ample means. But now the hostility of the Commissioners became more and more declared. Their final overt act was provision for the columns which supported it : they were interpo- lated, and seriously interfere with the arches of the crypt. The organ was the work of Bernard Smith : it cost 2,000/. xtn anb i\it €ammm\omxB, 81 violent, wrongful, insulting. A clause had crept into the Act of Parliament, that until the work should be finished, a moiety of his salary should be withheld from the Surveyor. The Commissioners proceeded at once to carry this hard clause into effect. This was not only a hardship, but a tacit imputation that the architect was delaying the completion of the work for his own emolument. It is indeed stated plainly in one of the Commissioners' papers, that Sir Christopher or * some employed by him, who by many affidavits have been proved guilty of great corruption, may be supposed to have found their advantage in this delay.' Wren presented a petition to the Queen, * beseeching her Majesty to interpose her royal authority, so that he may be suffered to finish the said building in such a manner and after such designs as shall be approved by Your Majesty, or such persons as Your Majesty shall be pleased to appoint for that purpose.' Wren addressed also the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of London. These petitions stated two of the points in dispute — the painting of the cupola and the enclosure.® L. The representations of Wren were submitted to the Attorney-General, Sir E. Northey. The opinion of Northey distinctly acknowledged the case of Sir Christopher Wren to be very hard ; but the provisions of the Act were clear. He does not see that the Commissioners can order payment to be made till the Cathedral is finished. Wren had no course but a petition to the House of Commons, better judges of • These petitions are in Elmes' Life of Sir C. Wren. G 82 gl. lattl's. equity and honourable dealing than of art. ' Wherefore,* wrote Sir Christopher, ' that honourable and august assembly so considered the case, and were so well satisfied with the justice and reasonableness of it, as to declare the church to be finished so far as may be required to be performed and done by him as Surveyor-General.' The salary was to be paid up to a certain day. The immediate cause of the dispute between the Commissioners and the architect was now the iron enclosure. Wren stated in a petition to the Queen, that her Majesty had given some large blocks of marble for Her Majesty's statue, with figures and ornaments. Sir Christopher had appointed a statuary in whom he had confidence to perform the work. If the statue now in the western area was the work of that statuary, either the art of sculpture was at a very low ebb in England, or Sir Christopher, for once, grievously misplaced his confidence. There was a dispute too about the covering of the cupola, whether with copper or lead. Lead was adopted at the cost of 2,500^. ; copper was ofiered for 3,050?. The Com- mittee were for the copper. The dispute about the iron railing was not, as represented by the Commissioners, a simple debate as to the use of hammered or cast iron. It was on a vital question. It involved the full or broken and in- terrupted view of the great west front, or rather of the whole Cathedral. It was the design of Wren that it should be seen in all its height and breadth, with |r0n ^uilmgs. 83 . all the admirable balance and proportion of its parts. He therefore would have kept the fence low, and strongly objected to the tall ponderous enclosure, which broke, obscured, or concealed the vestibule, the noble flight of steps, the majestic doors, the whole of the solid base or platform, from which the building rose. But the Commissioners, utterly blind to the architectural effect, proud of their heavy, clumsy, misplaced fence, which was cast at some works, now out of use, in Sussex, and 'thought marvels of execution' in those days (the elaborate beauty of some of the old mediaeval ironwork was forgotten), described Sir Christopher's design as me^n and weak, boasted that their own met with general approbation, and so left the Cathedral compressed in its gloomy gaol, only to be fully seen, and this too near, by those who were admitted within the gates, usually inexorably closed. Wren's words were, 'As for the iron fence, it was wrested from me, and the doing it carried on in a way that I may venture to say will be condemned.' p LI. But worse was to come. In the following year (1712) appeared a virulent pamphlet, ' Frauds and Abuses at St. Paul's, in a Letter to a Member of p By the recent removal of a part of these railings a return has been made to Wren's original intention, and a fine view of the west front has been opened out. By an agreement, also, made between the Corporation of the City of London, the Dean and Chapter and the Parishes of St. Faith and St. Gregory, the remaining portion of the railings will be lowered and re-arranged, and the open spaces round the Cathedral will be laid out by the City as ornamental gardens. g2 84 St. |attr«. Parliament.' It did not avowedly emanate from the authorities cf the Cathedral, or from the Commis- sioners, but it took up their case, and one, a civilian, was shrewdly suspected of being the author. It was a long, bitter arraignment, not directly, but in hardly covert phrases, of Wren himself. The chief carpenter, Jennings, and Bateman, the head superintendent, were the persons ostensibly assailed. But there was this sentence : * It was well enough known who promoted underhand the petition for Greenwich Church, and for what end they did it ; that it was to be revenged on the late Commissioners for rebuilding St. Paul's, and particularly on the Dean and Chapter, who had the honour to be part of them, for presuming to disturb the secret gains and assumed powers of some persons employed on the works, and examining so strictly into frauds and abuses as they did.' Jennings, the master carpenter, the chief object of the attack, from conscious innocence, or from honest indignation, replied in language almost contemptuous. Sir Christopher himself thought it necessary in the following year (1713) to publish a reply to the ' Frauds and Abuses ' He stood by his officers, and fully justi- fied their proceedings. His case, to his friends, it should seem to the public of the day, as it has seemed to later inquirers, came off triumphant. The pam- phlet had bitterly complained of the dissolution of the old Commission. That Commission, different from the original one, had consisted of twenty-eight persons. A new Commission, cut down to fifteen, was appointed. ^ir |amts S^^orir^Hl 85 The two Archbishops and the Bishop of London re- mained, but four other Bishops, who had rarely in- terfered, were discarded. The Dean stood alone ; the Eesidentiaries were cut off. The Civilians were dis- missed. In their place were the Lord Mayor and the Attorney-Greneral. These, with Sir Christopher, were the acting body ; the others, mostly great officers of State, were, in fact, honorary members of the board. LII. Still, however, "Wren was not restored to his uncontested supremacy. The painting of the cupola had been taken out of his hands ; it was now made over, contrary to his wishes, to Sir James Thornhill. Thomhill in those days stood high in his art. His design was not without boldness of conception, vigour and facility, in drawing and execution : but the whole was an egregious mistake. The cupola, instead of having been brought down by dark and heavy figures, ought to have melted upwards into light. In truth, to paint a cupola nothing less was required than the free, delicate, accurate touch, the brilliant colour, the air and transluoence of Correggio. Instead of lifting the sight and thought heavenwards, Thomhill's work, with its opaque and ponderous masses, oppresses and lies like a weight upon the eye and mind. It was a fatal fashion of the times ; no ceiling was allowed its proper elevation; it was brought down by heavy masses of painting — Where sprawl the saints of Verrio or Laguerre. There is another irremediable fault : the architectural framework of Thomhill's figures does not harmonise 86 ^1. |a«rr. with the architecture of the building : it crosses and clashes with the lines and curves of the original struc- ture.i Dean Milman deeply regretted the cost and labour expended on the restoration of Thornhill's work. But it was done when the only thought was to repair what was actually in existence, and to pre- serve the paintings, which were falling off in flakes or hanging loose on the walls. The bolder idea of at- tempting to ornament the interior of the church rose afterwards with the determinaion to use the space under the dome for public service. LIU. On the accession of the House of Brunswick a new Commission was issued for carrying on, finishing, and adorning the Cathedral. On this Commission first appears the name of Sir Isaac Newton. Whether Newton attended the meetings does not appear ; the proceedings can hardly have had his sanction. Those proceedings are almost incredible. We can understand that the former Commission, under the influence of the Clergy, should think themselves qualified to judge of the interior arrangements of the church — the closing of the choir, the position of the organ. They might imagine themselves to be exercising an enlightened patronage of the fine arts, by employing Sir James Thornhill on the cupola ; but that they should pre- sume to dictate to the architect, and such an architect, 1 Mr. Penrose is of opinion, that the seeming leaning forward of the thirty-two Corinthian pilasters in a manner most painful to the eight, to which Mr. Fergusson (p. 271) so strongly objects, is caused by the comparison with Sir James Thornhill's architecture, which throws them forward. t Biaxxz §nlmtxKiit. 87 on questions purely architectural ; that they should conceive that they could finish Wren's glorious build- ing better than Wren himself; that they should issue their .peremptory mandate, giving Wren but a fort- night for consideration and reply to their dictates — is scarcely to be credited except from their own words. ' I have considered,' writes Wren, ' the resolution of the honourable Commissioners for adorning St. Paul's Cathedral, dated October 15, 1717, and brought to me on the 21st, importing that a balustrade of stone bo set up on the top of the church, unless Sir Christopher Wren do, in writing under his own hand, set forth that it is contrary to the principles of architecture, and give his opinion in a fortnight's time ; and if he does not, then the resolution of a balustrade is to be pro- ceeded with.' Wren's reply is dated October 28th, one week after. He cannot conceal or disguise his contempt : it breaks out in a few sentences. * In ob- servance of this resolution, I take leave to declare, I never designed a balustrade. Persons of little skill in architecture did expect, I believe, to see something they had been used to in Gothic structures, and ladies think nothing well without an edging. I should gladly have complied with the vulgar taste, but I suspended for the reasons following.' He proceeds to give his reasons, which, expressed in architectural terms, were probably not very intelligible to his adversaries or his masters. * I am further to observe, that there is already over the entablature a proper plinth, which regularly terminates the building, and, as no provisions 88 Si lattFs. were originally made for a balustrade, tlie setting np one in such a confused manner over the plinth must apparently break into the harmony of the whole machine, and in this particular case be contrary to the principles of architecture.' "Wren had thus complied with the demands of the Commissioners in less than a fortnight. He had given under his hand that it was * contrary to the principles of architecture ; ' but there is the balustrade to bear perpetual witness to the presumption of the Commissioners, and the superior judgment of the architect. LIY. But even this was not the worst. It can hardly have been without the sanction, if not through the direct influence of the Commissioners, that, the following year, Wren, in the eighty-sixth year of his age, the forty-ninth of his office, being still in full posses- sion of his wonderful faculties, was ignominiously dis- missed from his office of Surveyor of Public Works. The appointment of his successor was attributed to German intrigue. Sir Robert Walpole was not the man to take much interest in the Cathedral, and doubtless had no concern in the affair. If he had, his son, with his profound reverence for his father, would hardly have written of Wren, * as of one, the length of whose life enriched the reign of several princes, and disgraced the last of them.' Benson, unhappily for him, set over the head of Wren, paid dearly for his two acts of presumption — the occupation of the office of Wren, the inscription of his own name on Milton's monument in Westminster fast f ^m 0f m«it. 89 Abbey, Instead of his rightful obscurity during life, and utter oblivion after death, he lives and has ob- tained an infamous immortality in Pope's lines, which appear with variations in the * Dunciad : ' — Benson, sole judge of architecture sit, And namhy pamby be preferred to wit. The later version is : — On poets' tombs see Benson's titles writ, Lo ! Ambrose Phillips is preferred for wit. Pope also wrote the sad line : — While Wren with sorrow to his grave descends. But Wren had consolation in his sorrows. He retired to a house at Hampton Court, within view of another of his works. ' He then betook himself [so he writes] to a country retirement, saying only, with the stoic, "Nunc me jubet fortuna expeditius philo- sophari." ' He resumed his philosophical studies with as great delight as ever. The author of the ' Paren- talia ' goes on to say : ' Free from worldly cares, he passed the greatest part of the five last following years of his life (he lived to ninety-two) in contemplation and studies, and principally in the consolation of the Holy Scriptures, cheerful in solitude, and well pleased to die in the shade as in the light.* Heroic souls a nobler lustre find Even from those griefs which break a vulgar mind. That frost which breaks the common brittle glass Makes crystal into stronger brightness pass. Horace Walpole writes : * The beginning and com- 90 ^f. lattl's. pletion of St. Paul's by Wren are a fabric and an event which, we cannot wonder, left such an impres- sion of content on the mind of the good old man, that, being carried to see it once a year, it seemed to recall a memory which was almost deadened to every other use.' There is something, it may be almost said, sub- limely pathetic in the old man, ninety or approaching to ninety years of age, seated under the dome of St. Paul's, contemplating his own work, which, however in some degree marred, was yet his own exclusively, entirely his own. As Walpole truly said, it has rai'ely, if ever, fallen to the lot of one man to design and to achieve a fabric of that magnitude, magnifi- cence, and perfection. LY. Wren, besides the interference with his de- signs for the interior embellishment of the Cathedral, might look with some disappointment on the incom- pleteness of his work, the temporary windows, mean and incongi-uous, which remained, and in many parts still remain in our own day ; the cold, unadorned east end, for which he had designed a splendid Baldachin, and in general the nakedness of the walls, which he had intended to relieve, perhaps with marbles, cer- tainly with rich mosaics. But even in the interior there was some consola- tion, some pride in the partial fulfilment of his designs. The exquisite carvings of Grinling Gibbons in the stall work of the Choir were not merely in them- selves admirable, but in perfect harmony with the character of the architecture. They rivalled, if they did not surpass, all mediaeval works of their class, in grace, variety, richness ; they kept up an inimitable unison of the lines of the building and the decoration. In the words, again, of Walpole, ' there is no instance of a man before Gibbons, who gave to wood the loose and airy lightness of flowers, and chained together the various productions of the elements with a fine dis- order natural to each species.' LYI. The total sum expended on the Cathedral (dismissing from the account sums borrowed on the security of the coal duty, and repaid), and the ex- penditure on the repairs of the old Cathedral, was 736,752^. 25. S^d. In one of the petitions of the Commissioners, that in which the Dean and Chapter properly took the lead, there were some wise and weighty words : ' We therefore desire the Honourable Committee would be pleased to take into their consideration the annual expense of repaii'ing so great a building, and that a proportionable sum may be appointed for a perpetual growing fund, to be lodged in such hands as shall be named, to be applied solely to this use.' This most reasonable petition remained unheard and un- heeded. The sole provision left for the sustentation of the fabric was a residue from the coal duty. To this was subsequently added, by the will of a pri- vate benefactor. Dean Clark, part of the profits aris- ing from the Estate of Tillingham in Essex, leased from the Dean and Chapter (the early gift of an 92 m. |a«rs. old Saxon King), amounting to about 5001., more or less. The charge of the fabric was not left to the Dean and Chapter, but,* by a special Act of Parliament, was vested in the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of London, and the Lord Mayor for the time being. With these trustees rests the appointment of the sur- veyor, the examination and audit of the accounts, and in general the charge and maintenance of the Cathedral. LYII. Since the death of Sir Christopher Wren, nothing whatever, at least nothing important, had till quite recently been done for the completion and de- coration of the interior of St. Paul's Cathedral. Even the windows are probably the temporary windows in- troduced by Wren, till others more suited to the archi- tecture and dignity of the building could take their place. With the exception of the restoration of Sir James Thornhill's paintings in the cupola — which has already been refei-red to — no work of any magnitude was imdertaken. It would seem as if the immense sum required had appalled the imagination, and checked all desire to embark upon any extensive scheme of improvement. The first light of a new day arose from the wdsh to render the Cathedral more available for its primary object, the worship of God. With this aim in view, the Bishop of London had ad- dressed a communication to the Dean and Chapter urging upon them the advisability of instituting a series of special evening services for the benefit of those large masses of the people whom it might be impos- fdt^r of g^an ilHman. 93 sible to attract in any other way. Dean Milman, in his own name and that of the Chapter, replied to the Bishop on February 1, 1858. After expressing their ' earnest, unanimous, and sincere desire to co-operate to the utmost of their power in the promotion of reli- gious worship and the preaching of the word of God in the metropolis, especially as regards those classes for which such services are more particularly designed,' the letter goes on to discuss the practicability of the plan and the best methods of carrying it out, pointing out at the same time the difficulties which would in- evitably arise from the scantiness of the funds which could be applied to such a purpose. After a clear de- monstration of their insufficiency to provide for such changes as would be absolutely necessary unless aided by the ' religious zeal and liberality of this vast and unprecedentedly wealthy metropolis,' the Dean con- tinued : ' I do not wish to disguise my further views. It has been the dearest wish of my heart, since I have had the honour of filling the high station of Dean of St. Paul's, to see not one narrow part alone of this great building applied to its acknowledged purposes, the wor- ship of God and the Christian instruction of the people ; but besides this, that, instead of the cold, dull, un edify- ing, unseemly appearance of the interior, the Cathedral should be made within worthy of its exterior grandeur and beauty. That exterior, I presume to say, from its consummate design, in its style of architecture, is the noblest chui'ch in Christian Europe — the masterpiece of our gi*eat British architect, Sir Christopher Wren ; 94 , ^f. lauFs. the glory, it should be the pride, of the city of London, of the Christian people of the realm. I should wish to see such decorations introduced into St. Paul's as may give some splendour, while they would not disturb the solemnity, or the exquisitely harmonious simplicity, of the edifice; some colour to enliven and gladden the eye, from foreign or native marbles, the most per- manent and safe modes of embellishing a building ex- posed to the atmosphere of London. I would see the dome, instead of brooding like a dead weight over the area below, expanding and elevating the soul towards heaven. I would see -the sullen white of the roof, the arches, the cornices, the capitals, and the walls, broken and relieved by gilding, as we find it by experience the most lasting, as well as the most appropriate decora- tion.'' I would see the adornment carried out in a rich but harmonious (and as far as possible from gaudy) style, in unison with our simpler form of worship.' LYIII. In pursuance of the double motive indi- cated by this letter, an appeal was made and a com- mittee was appointed, which from its first formation was supported by many of the leading merchants and bankers of the City. The first object was the adapta- tion of the building for public worship on a larger and more comprehensive scale ; the second was the comple- tion and decoration of the interior, so that it might be brought into more thorough harmony with the ex- terior, and together they might form one grand con- ' After the experiments which have been made, to marble and gilding mosaics would now probably have been added. 5 3 » > ' » » J ] J J J J >3^ :/;*i*'»'..**,q:/^ .fK.Jt.€^^^^v^^^ 3t\tmtB for Jjetoratmtr. 95 cordant whole. Steps were at once taken towards carrying out the former of these noble ends. The church was effectually warmed, and the area for the accommodation of worshippers was greatly enlarged by the removal of the screen dividing the choir from the nave, during which operation the organ, which had occupied the centre of the screen, was removed to the place under one of the arches of the choir originally in- tended for it by Sir Christopher Wren, and was greatly increased in compass and power .^ The whole space under the dome was thus also rendered available for the congregation, and the success of these and other alterations has been proved by the immense congrega- tions of earnest and devout worshippers, who throng to the Cathedral throughout even the coldest, wildest nights of the winter months. Towards the other por- tion of the scheme a beginning, though in spite of some munificent donations — such as that of the great west window, by Mr. T. Brown — little more than a begin- ning was made.* The funds subscribed were quite ■ As long as the choir sufficed for the ordinary daily services, the organ so placed was found very effective : but when the stalls of the clergy and choir were moved to a position which would admit of the occupation of the dome area by worshippers at every service, it became necessary again to change the position of the organ. It was therefore divided, and set half upon one side and half upon the other of the entrance to the choir. Large additions were at the same time made to the original instrument, the work of Father Smith, and it was perfected by the introduction of all the latest and most refined improvements of modern mechanism. * Other principal worlis since completed are the two mosaics on the spandrels of the dome , representing Isaiah and St. Matthew, executed by Salviati from designs by Mr. G. F. Watts, and the ];ainted windows in the apse. Much doubt has, however, been 96 ^l lauFs. incommensTirate with the greatness of the undertak- ing ; public enthusiasm was not raised to the requisite height, and finally, Dean Milman's illness and death necessarily checked the progress of the great work which he had inaugurated. LIX. Soon after Dean Milman's death a new com- mittee was appointed, and on July 13, 1870, a public meeting was held at the Mansion House, at which a large sum was subscribed. At the date of Dean Man- sel's death, July 31, 1871, the subscription amounted to nearly 40,000Z., but no definite plan had been adopted, and the time of the committee had been occu- pied chiefly in preparation. Shortly after the appoint- ment of Dean Church, however, a peculiar circum- stance — the National Thanksgiving ofiered up in the Cathedral for the recovery of the Prince of Wales from a dangerous illness — gave a fresh impetus to the scheme for the adornment of St. Paul's. Following the pre- cedents of 1664 and 1678, a 'Book of Subscriptions ' was opened, in which the Queen and the Prince of Wales inscribed their names as subscribers on the evening before the day of Thanksgiving. The whole nation was represented at the solemn service of praise and thanksgiving, and subscriptions poured in for the completion of the Cathedral. But at this point the account of the fabric must be closed. This is not the place to criticise the various plans which have been expressed as to the effect of introducing painted glass to any consider- able extent into St. Paul's, and until some consistent general scheme of decoration has been adopted, it seems scarcely desirable to give any detailed description of particular experimental improvements. p LIST b^ MONUMENTS ( ' f Jd^n ^bward 1 Dr. Johnson 2 Sir Joshua Reynolds . . 3 Bishop Heber 4 Duke of "Wellington . . 5 Viscount Nelsoa .... 6 Marquis Comwallis . . 7 Sir R. Abercromby . . 8 Sir John Moore 9 Lord Heathfield 10 Earl Howe 11 Lord Rodney 12 Lord CoUingwood .... 13 Earl St. Vincent .... 14 Sir Thomas Picton . . 15 Sir William Ponsonby 1 6 Sir Charles Napier . . 17 Sir William Jones 18 Sir Astley Cooper .... 19 Dr. Babington 20 Henry Hallam 21 Dean Milman 22 Plan of St Paul's, including the position ol the Principal Monuments proposed for the application of the accumulated funds, or to speculate upon what ultimate form the scheme for the decoration will assume. There can Le no doubt, however, that where any ill-judged step would be irre- mediable and might ruin a masterpiece of noble archi- tecture, the utmost caution is necessary, and that the present Dean and Chapter have adopted a wise course in declining to authorise any material interference with the fabric until, out of the diversity of counsel, some safe and at the same time adequate plan may emerge. LX. The naked walls, the arcades, the recesses of St. Paul's might seem to have been designed, and were indeed intended by the architect, for the reception of monuments, but there was a prejudice against them which long remained invincible, and it was not until the year 1796 that the first monument was in fact erected. It is highly to the honour of St. Paul's that the triumph over this inveterate prejudice was extorted by admiration of the highest Christian charity. The first statue admitted at St. Paul's was, not that of a states- man, a warrior, or even of a sovereign ; it was that of John Howard, the pilgrim, not to gorgeous shrines of saints and martyrs, not even to holy lands, but to the loathsome depths and darkness of the prisons through- out what called itself the civilised world. Howard first exposed to th« shuddering sight of mankind the horrible barbarities, the foul and abominable secrets, of those dens of unmitigated suffering. By the ex- pasure he at least let some light and air into those H 98 ^t. laurs. earthly hells. Perhaps no man has assuaged so much human misery as John Howard ; and John Howard rightly took his place at one corner of the dome of St. Paul's, the genuine Apostle of Him among whose titles to our veneration and love not the least befitting, not the least glorious, was that ' He went about doing good.' The ice of prejudice was broken; the example was soon followed. The second statue, at the earnest entreaty of Sir Joshua Keynolds, was that of Samuel Johnson. Though Johnson was buried in the Abbey among his brother men of letters, yet there was a sin- gular propriety in the erection of Johnson's statue in St. Paul's. Among the most frequent and regular communicants at the altar of the Cathedral might be seen a man whose ungainly gestures and contortions of countenance evinced his profound awe, reverence, and satisfaction at that awful mystery; this was Samuel Johnson, who on all the great festivals wandered up from his lodgings in Bolt Court, or its neighbourhood, to the Cathedral. Johnson might be well received as the representative of the literature of England. Sir Joshua Reynolds took the third place, as the master in our fine arts. The fourth was adjudged to that re- markable man. Sir W. Jones, the first who opened the treasures of Oriental learning, the poetry and wisdom of our Indian Empire, to wondering Eiu*ope. These four monuments stand each against one of the four great piers of the dome. LXI. These precedents swept away any lingering reluctance (if there was still reluctance) to people the walls of St. Paul's with cenotaphs or statues to our great men. Our victorious admii'als and generals imperatively demanded places of honour for their name and memory. Parliament, to whose omnipotence the clergy could not bow at once, issued its commands ; and, perhaps with ill-judging but honourably prodigal liberality, voted large sums for monuments which could only be expended on vast masses of marble, more to the advantage of the artists than of their sublime art. Fames and Victories, and all kinds of unmeaning allegories, gallant men fighting and dying in every conceivable or hardly conceivable attitude, rose on every side, on every wall, under every arch. As woi'ks of art then these monuments are of little value, and as specimens of sculpture may be dismissed with but few words of description — but they are interesting as historical memorials of our great naval and military heroes, of the rulers and administrators — we may add, the two first bishops — of our Indian empire, and of a few men, perhaps not less useful to mankind, though less spendidly renowned — men of science, of art, and of letters. The most interesting of these may be briefly indicated, taking them in the order in which they are seen by a visitor who, turning to the left, or east, on entering at the door of the north transept, makes a tour of the church, and naming first those which stand against the outer wall, or in the alcoves under the windows. LXII. A monument by Chantrey to Generals Gore and Skerrett, who fell gloriously while leading h2 100 St. laul's. the troops to the assault of the fortress of Bergen-op- Zoom on the night of the 8th and 9th of March 1814. Sir Charles James Napier, the conqueror of Scind (d. 1853) : his statue is by Adams. — Admiral Lord Duncan, the victor of Camperdown ; a simple statue by Westmacott : on the pedestal a seaman, his wife and child. — General Sir William Ponsonby, who fell gloriously in the battle of Waterloo. His death was occasioned by the weakness of his horse, which is re- presented as falling languidly to the earth, while his master is receiving a laurel wreath from Victory. — Captain Mosse and Captain Riou, who fell in the attack upon Copenhagen, a.d. 1801. This is the ' gallant good E-iou ' of Campbell's noble song, and of Nelson's despatches. — Admiral Charles Napier, who commanded the English fleet in the Baltic in 1854, the period of the Crimean War. — A statue by Theed of Henry Hallam, the historian of the Middle Ages, of the Constitution of England, of the Literature of Europe (d, 1859). — To the right in the ambulatory above the niche is a tabular monument to Major-General Bowes, who perished at the storming of Salamanca, a.d. 1812 : the bas-relief is by Chantrey. The opposite panel on the left, over the door, contains the monu- ment of Major-General Le Marchant, who also fell at Salamanca. LXIII. In the south aisle of the choir there are four monuments. Reginald Heber, Bishop of Calcutta (d. 1826); a kneeling figure in episcopal robes, by Chantrey. Had he not been cut off by untimely 4 ) .> ) » I .\ > J } : c t < 1 i [ c ( c ( Windo"w in the South Aisle of the Choir Avith Dean Milman's Monument mtttm^nts in t\t ^ont^ ^hh, 101 deatH, Heber miglit ' by his love-winning Christianity, his genius and devoted zeal, have made as deep an im- pression on the native, as he did on the Anglo-Indian mind. None was ever marked so strongly for a mis- sionary Bishop as Reginald Heber.' — Charles James Blomfield, Bishop of London (d. 1857) ; an altar- tomb, with recumbent figui'e by Richmond. — John Donne, Dean of St. Paul's ; a sculptured figure in a shroud." This monument was formerly in the crypt, and has only recently been placed in the niche which it now occupies. — Henry Hart Milman, Dean of St. Paul's (d. 1868) ; an altar-tomb, the recumbent figure by Williamson. The painted window at the east end of the aisle represents the martyrdom of St. Stephen, and is a memorial to W. Cotton, Esq. LXIY. Returning to the south transept, a little beyond the gate opening into the south aisle is the door leading to the crypt, and above it a tabular monument to the memory of Major- General Robert Ross (d. 1814), who was killed before Baltimore', in the war with the United States of America. On the opposite panel is the monument of Colonel Cadogan, by Chantrey. He fell in the battle of Yittoria, June 21, 1813. — A statue of Major-General Sir John Thomas Jones (d. 1843), by Behnes. — Sir Henry Montgomery Lawrence (d. 1857), a name gloriously connected with that most terrible crisis which seemed to strike our Indian empire to its base. The dark history of Lucknow is inseparably bound up with the * See ante, p. 40. 102 ^l |aurs. name of Sir Henry Lawrence. His death is the saddest, at the same time the most noble, deed of those disastrous days. — Under the window, to the east, is the cenotaph, by Westmacott, of Admiral Earl Howe, renowned for the famous victory which he won ovei the French fleet, off Ushant, June 1, 1794. — Adjoin- ing this is another massive monument by Westmacott to Admiral Lord Collingwood. The companion in arms of Nelson, he was distinguished wherever he served, for conduct, skill, and courage ; but most con- spicuously at the decisive victory off Cape Trafalgar, where he commanded the larboard division. — A statue by Macdowell to J. M. W. Turner, the greatest of English landscape painters. — A statue by Kossi to General Lord Heathfield (d. 1790), the defender of Gibraltar, who at the famous siege of that fortress repelled the united forces of France and Spain. — Generals Pakenham and Gibbs are represented in full uniform, the arm of one resting on the shoulder of the other. They fell on January 8, 1815, while leading the troops to an attack on the enemy's works in the front of New Orleans. LXY. At the angle of the south transept against the east face of the great pier supporting the dome is the monument of Admiral Lord Nelson, which for- merly stood at the entrance to the choir. The funeral of Nelson was a signal day in the annals of St. Paul's. The Cathedral opened wide her doors to receive the remains of the great admiral, followed, it might almost be said, by the whole nation as mourners. The death <#ttn:tral of Jelson:. 103 of Nelson in the hoiir of victory, of Nelson whose victories at Aboukir and Copenhagen had raised his name above any other in our naval history, had stirred the English heart to its depths, its depths of pride and sorrow. The procession, first by water, then by land, was magnificent. The body was preceded to St. Paul's by all that was noble and distinguished in the land. The chief mourner was the Admiral of the Fleet, Sir Peter Parker. The place of interment was under the centre of the dome. Dean Milman, who was present as a youth, has recorded the solemn effect of the sink- ing of the coffin, and how he heard, or seemed to hear, the low wail of the sailors who bore and encircled the remains of their admiral. The body of Nelson is, by a singular chance, deposited in a sarcophagus designed and executed for Cardinal Wolsey by the famous Torregiano. It had lain for centuries neglected in Wolsey's chapel at Windsor, when it was suggested as fit to encase the coffin of Nelson. Opposite to Nelson stands the monument of one who might well open the roll of those great men who have administered our mighty empire, or devoted their lives to the service of their country. To few would the Yalhalla of England open her gates with greater alacrity and pride than to the Marquis Cornwallis. The career of Cornwallis began in disaster but not in ignominy. The ignominy of his defeat in the Ameri- can War belongs to the rulers of England, not to the general who failed in achieving an impossible task. In the defeat of Cornwallis, there was not the s]\adow 104 ^1 laul's. of an impeacliment on tlie cotirage of the soldier or the conduct of the general. Throughout his later life, there was no position of ardent responsibility in which the eyes of men were not directed to him. As am- bassador, he could not command peace to a power which spurned peace. As Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, of Ireland in her most critical days, he alone stood above the base means used to achieve that necessary work, the Union. Amid the wide wreck of honour, he was still the soul of honour. Through the midst of it he stood aloof; his name was unsoiled, unat- tainted ; he could despise alike those who bought and those who sold. The fame of Cornwallis alone sur- vives without an aspersion, without a suspicion. He alone strove to mitigate the atrocities of a civil war. When mercy was on all sides an exploded virtue, he dared to be merciful. His life at that trying period has been boldly thrown open, and baffles the most jealous censure. As Governor-General of India (twice he held that arduous office : once in the prime of life, the last time to expire at a good old age on his vice- regal throne), he laboured with primitive wisdom to repress the dominant grasping rapacity and insolent contempt of our native subjects, and to fix the founda- tions of our empire in the grateful affection, the wealth, and prosperity of the realm of India. He strove to rule India not as a conquered country, but as a province of our empii-e ; for the benefit of our sub- jects, as for the interests of their masters. — Above is 0nttm£ttts in t^e ^ont\i ^xumti^t 105 a tabular monument by Flaxman to Captain Miller, who died before Acre, 1799. LXYI. On the west of the door of the south transept is a statue by Chantrey of General Gillespie, one of our earlier Indian warriors, who fell before an obscure fortress on the frontiers of Nepaul, a.d. 1814. Next to it is a statue erected in 1846 to the memory of Sir Astley Paston Cooper, the celebrated surgeon (d. 1842). — On the right, against the great pier opposite, is a statue of Sir William Hoste, a cap- tain in the Royal Navy, with a simple epitaph.— Facing this is the monument of General Sir John Moore, whose valour and military skill and lofty character live in the undying pages of the historian Napier. He fell at Corunna, and the monument represents Valour and "Victory lowering the general into the earth, while the genius of Spain plants the standard of victory over his grave. — Next in order is the tomb of General Sir Ralph Abercromby (d. 1801). The sands of Egypt drank the life blood of Sir Ralph Abercromby, on whom the hopes of the nation rested as the general most likely to cope with France, in the long warfare which was then spreading out before us. — Then comes a monument inscribed with a name to be held in the highest honour, that of Edmund, Lord Lyons. — To the right against the great pier is a statue to the memory of Dr. William Ba- bington (d. 1834). — And in the panel above, against the same pier, is a tabular monument to General Sir 106 ^t lattl's. Isaac Brock, who fell gloriously while resisting an attack on Queenstown, in Upper Canada, a.d. 1812. LXYII. In the recesses of the south aisle are the following five monuments : to Captain Granville Gower Lock (d. 1853), in relief by Marochetti; to Captain G. Blagdon Westcott, killed (1798), in the memorable battle of the Nile ; to Captain E. M. Lyons, who fell before Sebastopol (1855); to Thomas Fanshaw Mid- dleton, first Bishop of Calcutta; and to Captain Bichard Bundle Burges, commander of the ' Ardent,' who fell in the battle of Camperdown (1797). Beyond this we arrive at the semi-circular recess or chapel, formerly used as the Consistory Court of the diocese, but now containing the monument of the Duke of Wellington, by Stevens. When WelHngton, full of years, descended to the grave, the first thought was that he should re- pose by the side of Nelson. But this was impossible ; Nelson could not be removed from his central position under the Dome : and Nelson's brothers in naval glory, Collingwood and Lord Northesk, lay on either side; his nephew near him. But to the east, the place of honour, there was in the crypt what may be described as a second chapel. Nelson was left in undisputed possession of his own ; the second chapel was devoted to Wellington. His sarcophagus is a mass of Cornish porphyry, wrought in the simplest and severest style, unadorned, and, because unadorned, more grand and impressive. It was long the only memorial of Wellington at St. Paul's, for his monument was not completed until more than twenty-five years after J» 3 3 3 3 '> 3 » > > J ) ) ,,i'!'*.i;;ii'''i;'!M' Sarcopliagus enclosing the Body ol the Duke of Wellington < c ) > 5 J > ' > . » » 3 l> * J 3 3 5 ) The Wellington Monument, designed by Alfred a Steven? f^e ^HHngton Poimmtnt. 107 his funeral, and not till after the death of the eminent sculptor by whom it had been designed. This monument, a striking combination of white marble and bronze, 36 feet high, is said to be the largest piece of sculptured work that was ever executed by an English artist. The effigy of the great Duke in bronze rests upon a sarcophagus of white marble decorated with rich ornaments in bronze in the form of military trophies and wreaths. It bears on each side the simple inscription — Arthui*, Duke of Wellington. Over the effigy rises a rich canopy supported an white marble Corinthian columns, of which the shafts are carved in foliated diaper. The frieze is decorated with cherubs' heads in bronze ; as are also the foliated panels in the ceiling of the canopy. On each front above the canopy- arch is a circular bronze shield, bearing the Duke's arms enclosed in the garter of the order of the Garter. The space at either end upon the cornice of the canopy is occupied by groups of sculptured bronze. In one, Truth, a seated female figure, is represented as pluck- ing out the tongue of Falsehood ; in the other, Yalour, also a seated female figure, has thnist down Cowardice, a crouching man at her feet. The names of the famous battles in which the Duke fought are carved on the angles of the base. The east and west walls of the Phapel have been ornamented with reliefs in white marble by Calder Marshall and Woodington ; the centre compartment being in either case the most im- portant. On the eastern wall, the motive of the chief composition, by Mr. Calder Marshall, is suggested by 108 m. |aurs. these passages in the Psalms : — * Bighteousness and peace have kissed each other,' and * Young men and maidens, old men and children, praise the name of the Lord.' The smaller reliefs represent Job addressing his friends : ' Unto me men gave ear and waited and kept silence in counsel ; ' and the Centurion addressing our Lord : ' I also am a man in authority.' On the western wall, Mr. Woodington has in his principal work represented Melchisedek blessing Abraham ; and on either side, David praising God in the day of battle, and John the Baptist admonishing the soldiers. At the end of the nave is the Crimean monument to eight officers of the Coldstream Guards, over which wave the colours of their regiment. The inscription runs : — Brothers in arms, in glory, and in death, they were buried in one grave. The names of these heroes are inscribed on the marble : Yesey Dawson, Granville Eliot, Lionel Mackinnon, Murray Cowell, Henry M. Bouverie, Frederick Bams- den, Edward Disbrowe, C. Hubert Greville. LXYIII. Beturning eastward along the north aisle of the nave and passing the morning chapel, de- corated with marble and containing a memorial mosaic to Archdeacon Hale, by Salviati, we find three monu- ments in relief, further memorials of the Crimean war, and dedicated respectively to the memory of the officers and men of the 57th Begiment, of the British Cavalry, and of the 77th Begiment.^ Then comes a monument * A painted window has this year (1879) been placed in the ojt«meds itt il^z ^oxi^ ^hh, 109 by Baron Marochetti, to General Artlmr Wellesley Torrens, an officer of high distinction, who fell at the battle of Inkerman, 1854. — Next to these, in the alcove, is another monument by Marochetti, to the memory of Yiscount Melbourne, and his brother, a distinguished diplomatist. It is a vast mass of black marble repre- senting the gates of the Sepulchre, with angels in white marble, one on either side. — In the ambulatory of the north transept are tabular monuments to Major- General Hoghton and Colonel Sir William Myers, who fell at the battle of Albuera (1811). — Then comes a monument by Noble, to Mountstuart Elphinstone, Governor of Bombay (d. 1859). Thrice the great dig- nity of Governor- General of India — of India, where he had passed his most useful life, and filled the highest posts with consummate ability — was ofiered to Mount- stuart Elphinstone, not only by the authorities, but by general acclamation. But he preferred quiet, to retire, having, as he thought, done his work; to be the his- torian rather than the ruler of India. — A fine statue, by Bailey, to Admiral Sir Pulteney Malcolm (d. 1838), Captain of the ' Donegal,' under Nelson, and a distin- guished naval officer. — In the recess under the window is the monument of Lord Rodney, the first of our naval heroes who obtained a place in St. Paul's. It is a splendid mass of marble for which Parliament began its lavish grants ; the sculptor, Bossi, receiving 6,000^. for the commission. morning chapel, in memory of Dean Mansel. It was executed by Hardman and represents St. Thomas thrusting his hand into the wounded side of the risen Saviour. 110 m, lauFs. Under the adjoining window is the monument of Sir Thomas Picton, who terminated his long and glorious military service at the memorable battle of Waterloo, June 18, 1815. His remains were removed from the desecrated burial-ground of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, and now repose under a flat stone in the crypt, inscribed with his name, in the vestibule of the chapel dedicated to the fame of his commander, the Great Duke. — Opposite, against the great pier, is a colossal statue by Bailey, to Earl St. Vincent. — A statue of General Sir William Napier, the historian of the Peninsular War, is fitly placed near those of the heroes whose military achievements he has recorded in imperishable language — of General Sir Andrew Hay, killed before Bayonne ; of Generals Mackenzie and Langwerth, who fell at Talavera ; of Generals Craufurd and Mackinnon, both slain at the storming of Ciudad Kodrigo; and of others whose monuments have been already mentioned. — Against the eastern pier in the north transept is the monument of Major- General Thomas Dundas, to whom it was voted by the House of Commons for his services in the West Indies in 1794. — Opposite is a monument to Captain Robert Faulknor, who fell in an engagement with a French frigate of superior force on January 5, 1795. LXIX. The ground plan of the crypt, which is approached by a flight of steps from the ambulatory of the south . transept, coincides generally with that of the upper church; but with certain important modifications and additions. There is a dwarf pier in ^t Crgpf. Ill tlie crypt answering to eacli of tlie piers above, but of far more massive structure. Those corresponding to tlie eight gi'eat pillars which support the dome are of surprising strength and solidity. Of these eight dwarf piers again the two to the east are of so much larger proportion than the rest as to give to the central chamber enclosed between them, in which is the Wel- lington sarcophagus, the appearance of a rock-hewn cave. The central aisle of the nave, transepts, and choir are further subdivided by rows of smaller columns, which stand in clusters of two, or three, or four, according to the size of the piers in front of which they are ranged, and support a complex vault which forms the roof of the crypt and sustains the floor of the upper church. In the centre, supporting the floor of the area under the dome, and much in advance of the main piers which carry the dome itself, are eight subordinate pillars, so arranged as, with four half piers at the angles, to form a square on their outer side, and to leave an octagonal space in their centre. In front, again, of the inner angle of each of these piers stands a circular column, and these, eight in number, enclose the sarcophagus of Lord Nelson. To the eastward of this is what may now be called the "Wellington Chamber, beyond which and still to the east, a double row, each containing four unengaged and two engaged, of the smaller columns is arranged across the crypt, to strengthen the floor of the upper church and fit it to bear the weight of the western choir screen and organ. These appear to have been a subsequent addition, as is indicated by the con- 112 m. lattl's. tortions of the vaulting wliich they carry. To the east the crypt terminates in a semi-circular apse, formed by four of the smaller columns. Much has recently been done to bring out the beauties of the crypt, of which, by the removal of partitions, an unin- terrupted view can now be obtained from end to end. The windows have been glazed, and a grisaille of the entombment has- been introduced in that to the east. The central space beneath the choir and dome has been laid with a tesselated pavement with a faint pat- tern upon it. An altar has been placed at the east end, which is now used as a chapel for occasional ser- vices. The fragments of the tombs out of the old chui'ch which escaped the fire are ranged on each side immediately to the westward of this altar. The por- tion of the crypt beneath the north aisle of the choir represents at the present time the old parish church of St. Faith the Virgin under St. Paul's. Its limits were formerly marked by a screen, which has recently been replaced by two mosaic inscriptions in the pavement. To the west — Limes Ecclesise Parochialis S. Fidis, Yirginis et Martyris; to the south — Limitem meri- dionalem antic^use Ecclesise Parochialis S. Fidis, Vir- ginis et Martyris, olim cancellis inclusse, definiunt hse tesserse a.d mdccclxviii°, positse.y y The Church of St. Faith was originally above ground, and Jesus Chapel was attached to it. It was pulled down a.d. 1255 in order to give space for the lengthening of the Cathedral, and a portion of the undercroft was then granted to the parishioners as a place of worship, and converted into the new church of St. Faith. See Longman, p. 18. en PM +J Ti 1— ( o •p d (D a ;:< ^" •H ■P CQ tn O o S-t o C ( t 3 a -» 3 > > J J J 3 > i J J J- -I ) > ) J < < I C ( f t t ( r t c c t < f r « . » < ( ( € / f ( C C ( f < c e c < < c t t » « c « < c ( ( r < Tomb ol Sir Christoplier Wren, in the Crypt (irafr^s m i\t Crgpt. 113 LXX. Having thus briefly delineated its architec- tural features, a few more words must be given to the crypt as the actual cemetery of the cathedral. The sarcophagus of Nelson, exactly under the centre of the dome, and that of Wellington to the east of it, have already been mentioned, and have been described in connection with their monuments in the upper church. To the south and north of Nelson are the tombs of his companions in arms, Admii-al Lord Collingwood and the Earl of Northesk. Near to Wellington is the sarcophagus of Sir Thomas Picton. Two tabular monuments should also be mentioned which were moved from the place which they formerly occupied at the entrance to the choir, to make room for the reconstruction of the organ ; they are to Captain John Cooke and Captain George Duff, who both commanded ships — the Bellerophon and Mars — &,nd both perished at the Battle of Trafalgar, On the pavement are simple memorial inscriptions marking the graves of those who are interred in the vaults underneath. At the extreme east, in the south aisle, repose the mortal remains of Sir Christopher Wren. On a black marble slab are the following simple words : — HERE LIETH SIR CHRISTOPHER WREN THE BUILDER OF THIS CATHEDRAL CHURCH OP ST. PAUL, &C., WHO DYED IN THE TEAR OF OUR LORD MDCCXXIir, AND OP HIS AGE XCI.^ « The inscription which once appeared in front of the organ- I \ At the feet of Wren repose a long line of the artists who have done hopiour to England. On March 3, 1792, with an almost royal procession of nearly a hundred carriages, the body of Sir Joshua Reynolds was conveyed to the Cathedral. It was the homage paid to a man who had almost created the art of painting in England ; who had written on art with consummate judgment ; had been loved by all the best and wisest men of his day. By the side and around the father of English ai-t lie his descendants and disciples — the Presidents of the Royal Academy, West, Sir Thomas Lawrence, Barry, Dance, John Opie, Euseli. Here too rests J. M. W. Turner. It was Turner's dying request that he might repose as near as possible to Sir Joshua Reynolds. This request was granted without hesitation. There was a wild story that Turner, in one of his fits of ill-humour with the world, had willed that he should be buried in his ' Carthage,' as a shroud.* The great sculptors — Flax- man, Chantry, Westmacott — sleep elsewhere. But not far from Wren rests one of the guardians of his edifice, Robert Mylne; the builder of old Blackfriars Bridge. Here too, in more recent days, was laid the skilful disciple, the almost worshipper, of Wren, whose works he grouped together in an engraving of singular interest, long the faithful custodian of Wren's works and of Wren's fame — Charles Robert Cockerell. In gallery was removed with the gallery, and may now be seen over the door of the north transept. » See Annals of St. FauVs, p. 475. 1)1-. V 1 1 J 3 9 3 O J K^t fiharg. 115 the company of these, whose praise he loved to record in the annals of the Cathedral, rests Dean Milman. His grave, protected by a low iron railing, is imme- diately under the altar in the upper church, and is marked by a simple tomb in grey granite, with raised cross upon it. LXXI. It remains only to mention the Library, a large room over the Wellington Chapel, of which the door is in the gallery above the south aisle, and to which access can also be obtained by the so-called geometrical staircase, a flight of steps ingeniously constructed and appearing to hang together without any visible support. The ancient library of the Cathedral, with but rare exceptions, perished in the Great Fire. A MS. of Avicenna, preserved in the present library, certainly formed part of the old collection. It is enumerated in a catalogue dated 1458. The 'Chronicle of Kalph de Diceto,' entered in the same catalogue, is now in the Lambeth Library. A MS. Psalterium may perhaps have been one of the service books of the old Cathedral. The foundation of the present collection was laid in the munificent gift of Bishop Compton, whose portrait is in the library. The Rev. John Mangey, Prebendary of Twy- ford in St. Paul's Cathedral, largely augmented it by donations from the collection of his father, Dr. Mangey, Prebendary of Durham. The greatest trea- sures of the library are Tyndale's New Testament, 1526, Tyndale's Pentateuch, and a large paper copy of Walton's Polyglot Bible, with Castell's ' Lexicon,' I 2 116 ^t. lattl's^ also on large paper. ^ The library is rich in Fathers and Councils. The most important additions which the library has lately received are the large col- lection of pamphlets formed by the late Bishop Sumner, of Winchester, comprising no less than 6,348 separate tracts bound in 310 volumes; and the pam- phlets collected by Archdeacon Hale, 1,405 in number. The library at present contains 8,645 printed books and 10,274 pamphlets, and is becoming rich in books and tracts relating to the history of the Cathedral. The carving of the beautiful wooden brackets support- ing the galleiy, and of the stone pilasters, is said to be by Grinling Gibbons. The floor consists of 2,300 pieces of oak, inlaid without nails or pegs. The library contains a model of part of the west front of the Cathedral, once in the possession of Richard Jennings, the master builder of the Cathedral.^' ^ See Dugdale, p. 393. " These details are from a note furnished by Dr. W. Sparrow Simpson, the Librarian. ST. PAUL'S. -*!>•- PART 11. ^§b\^s, u)i jof K feto 0f \\t mm mmt ^mn. Little is historically known of the first introduction of Christianity into "Roman Britain, yet as soon as there were Christian Churches there can be no doubt that there would be a church in London, and that it would be the seat of a bishop. For the Church of Britain is put on an equality with those of Spain and Gaul by contemporary writers, and three of its bishops, including Restitutus, Bishop of London, are named as having been present at the Council of Aries A.D. 314. But of this Roman Christianity there are only very obscure and doubtful reminiscences ; and the names of the Bishops of London previous to the invasion of the Saxons have, with but one or two doubtful exceptions, perished. A.D. 604, The history of the see may, in truth, be said to have commenced with Mellitus, the companion of St. Augustine, who fixed his episcopal seat in London. It had been the intention of Pope Gregory the Great, that Augus- tine should make London his metropolitan see ; but this scheme, arranged in ignorance of the political divisions which had been introduced into Britain since the withdrawal of the Romans, was never carried out. Augustine planted 118 ^f. lattFs. himself in the Kentish capital, and hefore his death alone consecrated Mellitus to the see of London. The Pope con- doned the irregularity, seeing that there was no other bishop in the island. The diocese assigned to Mellitus compre- hended the whole Idngdom of the East Saxons, Middlesex, Essex, and part of Hertfordshire, and Ethelbert himself, King of Kent, with the sanction of Sehert, King of the East Saxons, founded and endowed a ^ magnificent ' cathedral, dedicated to St. Paul. We know not how soon the ' extreme West ' of the earlier writers was interpreted by the young believers in the island, as meaning Britain ; we know as little to whom the older Christian church was dedicated: yet to whom could the church in London be so fitly dedicated as to the great Apostle of the Gentiles? But clouds darkened over Mellitus and his see. Mellitus went to Rome to consult the Pope. The three sons, successors of King Sebert, being unbaptised, fell back to idolatry : nor could Eadbald, King of Kent, who had again embraced Christianity, compel the obstinate pagan Londoners to re- ceive the bishop. Mellitus returned to Kent and became Archbishop of Canterbury, A.D. 619. A.D. 654. For more than thirty years heathen darkness brooded over London. There was no bishop ; no Christian worship in St. Paul's. After this a prelate with a Saxon name, Cedd, brother of St. Chad of Lichfield, looms dimly through the darkness, and seats himself on the episcopal throne of London. He was, it is said, of the ancient Hiberno-Scotic succession ; of that Church which did not acknowledge allegiance to Rome, followed the earlier, but now heretical, mode of computing the date of Easter which prevailed at Rome till a.d. 458, and differed in other rites. He is said to have been consecrated in Northumberland by St. Finian, Bishop of the East Angles. As bishop he recanted his heresy. Cedd then sinks back into darkness, which settles again on the see of London, only to be dispelled for a short time by the third successor of Mellitus, the famous Saint Erkenwald. For the ^ikenfoalb. 119 gloom was scarcely broken by the episcopate of Wina, who driven from his own see of Winchester, obtained the bi- shopric of London from Wolfere, King- of Mercia, ' for a price.' According to some authorities Wina, repenting this simoniacal transaction, retired into a monastery, bat Bede states that he held the bishopric of London until his death in the year 675, when he was succeeded by St. Erkenwald. A.D. 675. Eekenwalb stands out as a prelate whose legen- dary life teems with records of his munificence in raising and adorning the church of St. Paul with splendour rare in those days. His life is instinct with miracles, which obtained for him the fame and honours of a Saint, and a shrine at which generations, down to the Reformation, worshipped in devout and prodigal faith. The legend is curiously characteristic of the zeal of the pious Bishop and of his times. Erken- wald was wont to preach in the wild forests which lay around his cathedral city. For this purpose he was drawn about in a cart. On a certain day one of the two wheels — we may suppose them heavily tried in the roadless waste — came off; but the other, more faithful, would not permit the holy man to be interrupted or dishonoured in his sacred work, and alone sup3)orted the steady, though unbalanced, vehicle. This is one marvel of his life ; another marvel is related of his death. Erkenwald had founded a monastery at Ohert8ey,of which he was Abbot,as well as Bishop of London. He died at Barking in Essex, where his sister had established a convent of nuns. The room in which he died was filled with indescribable fragrance. The monks of Chertsey hastened to Barking to possess themselves of the precious remains of* their founder and abbot. The canons of St. Paul's (there were then canons, at least at the time when the legend was composed) were equally alive to the sacred interest of their church, equally determined to possess the body of their Bishop. The population of London poured forth ; they seized the bier, and were bearing it off in triumph to the city. The monks of Chertsey and the nuns of Barking followed in tears, protesting against the unholy 120 m. lattl's. violence, and appealing to heaven in favour of tbeir un- doubted claims to the inestimable treasure. A teriible tempest came on. The river Lee was swollen to a great height, and arrested the procession. There was neither boat nor bridge. The canons, the monks, the priests, and the nuns all saw the manifest hand of God in the flood. Each party pleaded its cause with the utmost eloquence. But a pious man addressed the contending disputants, exhor- ting them to peace, and to leave the debate to the divine de- cision. The clergy of St. Paul's began to intone their litany. The Lee, like the Jordan of old, shrank within its banks. The cavalcade crossed to Stratford. In that pleasant place the sun burst out in all its brightness, and the remains of the bishop passed on in triumph to the cathedral. From that time the altar of St. Erkenwald was held in the most pro- found and increasing honour : venerated by citizens, kings, even foreign kings ; heaped with lavish oblations. The productiveness of the shrine may account for the richness and vitality of the legend. The legend, no doubt, fostered the unfailing opulence of the shrine. After St. Erkenwald darkness falls upon the see and on the cathedral of London. There is a long barren list of bishops with Teutonic names, barbarously Latinised, not one of whom has left his mark in history, or even in legend. A.D. 958. St. rhjNSTAN alone passes over the throne of London on his way to Canterbury. Dunstan is said to have held the see of London in commendam with the pri- macy. The rest of these prelates are unknown to fame as churchmen, as statesmen, as scholars or theologians. The list of deans is even more dreary, obscure, and imperfect ; a few Saxon-sounding names and no more. A.D. 1035. During the reign of Canute, therefore before 1035, the year of his death, a certain Ailwaed, or Alf- WARD, is said to have been appointed Bishop of London by the Anglo-Danish king, to whom he was related. Ail- ward was Abbot of Evesham, and held that abbey with the bishopric. He was sent by some of the nobles to ibfecp Wlliant. 121 Flanders to invite Hardiknute to attempt the lecovery of the throne. In 1044, the infirmities of age growing on Ailward, he wished to resign the bishopric and retire to Evesham ; but the monks refused to receive him. He foimd more welcome reception at Ramsay, where he died, having bequeathed rich endowments to that hospitable abbey. A.D. 1044. Edward the Confessor appointed Robert, a Norman, Abbot of Jumieges, to the bishopric of London. Robert was translated to Canterbury a.d. 1051 (the Nor- mans were already in the ascendant). He was expelled with other Norman bishops in 1052, went to Rome to appeal, and died at Jumieges on his return. A.D. 1051 . On the elevation of the Norman Robert from London to Canterbury, a certain Sperafocus (this strange name is variously spelt), the Sparrowhawk, Abbot of Abing- don, had been appointed bishop. But the Norman Primate refused to consecrate him, alleging a positive prohibition from the Pope. The Abbot, however, seems to have as- sumed the title and authority of Bishop. But, by some kind of Council, he was dispossessed, and another Norman, William, was appointed, and was duly consecrated, a.d. 1051, by the Norman Primate. In the subsequent revolu- tion, when the Primate and other Norman prelates were expelled from the realm. Bishop William shared their fate. But while the Primate was thrust back upon his Abbey of Jumieges, William of London, on account of his goodness,*^ was permitted to return, and retained quiet, and from that time uncontested possession of his see. The discomfited Saxon retired to his cell at Abingdon. Bishop William had been chaplain to the Confessor, a guarantee for his piety ; of his learning we hear nothing ; but he had in a high degree that best quality of a bishop, the power of securing the love and respect even of his adversaries. The Norman Bishop rose at once into high favour with the Norman King ; and Bishop WiUiam used that favour as a ^ ' Propter suam bonitatem.' — Florence. 122 m, ^mU, peacemaker. Througli Ms intercession the Conqueror re- stored and confirmed all the ancient privileges of the citi- zens of London, imperilled perhaps, if not forfeited, in the strife. At all events, it was a hoon deservinor the most profound and enduring gratitude. For years, for centuries, the Londoners made their annual pilgrimage to the tomb of the good Bishop, in the nave of St. Paul's. The procession certainly continued to the accession of Queen Elizabeth. * The same day in the afternoon, February 2, 1559-60, the Mayor and Aldermen and all the crafts went to St. Paul's, and there heard a sermon, instead of going in procession about Paul's, and visiting the tomb of Bishop William, and suchlike superstitions.' His epitaph bore witness to the reverence in which his memory was held. In the seven- teenth century (a.d. 1622), the Lord Mayor, Edward Bark- ham, caused these quaint lines to be set up on the tomb of Bishop William ; — Walkers, whosoere you be ! If it prove, you chance to see, Upon a solemne Scarlet Day, The City Senate pass this way, Their grateful memory for to shew, Which they the reverend Ashes owe Of Bishop Norman here intum'd By whom this city has assum'd Large Priviledg«s : Those obtain'd By him when Conquerour William reign'd. This being by Barkham's thankfull mind renew'd, Call it the Monument of Gratitude. A.D. 1075. The successor of Bishop William, Hugh de Oriyalle, was a prelate only distinguished by the calamity which fell upon him. He became a leper ; an object, if not of abhorrence, as a man smitten of God for his sins, of aversion, at best of commiseration, and an outcast of society. Notwithstanding a strange remedy, as ineffectual as strange, Bishop Hugh remained a leper to his d^ath. It seems almost unaccountable that this loathsome disease, which was looked on in the Middle Ages, if with singular mercy, 1^ S^lJW^i^' 123 yet witli mucli of the torrors of imcleanness inculcated in the Mosaic Law, was not held a disqualification for the episcopal office : but Bishop Hugh seems not to have been deposed. He died Bishop, a.d. 1085. A.D. 1086, Bishop MAURiTirs, Chaplain and Chancellor to the Conqueror, succeeded to the see. Having been appointed at Christmas 1085, he was consecrated at Win- chester in the year 1086. The work of his episcopate, which lasted for twenty years, has been already recorded. A.D. 1108. It was continued by his successor, Richard DE Belmeis, a munificent prelate. Besides his lavish con- tributions towards rebuilding the Cathedral, De Belmeis gave for the service of the altar the rent of his wharf on the Thames (Paul's Wharf) ; and, ' fearing the wrath of God,' he restored to the canons a wood which he had wrongfully enclosed within his park at Chad en stone, and also the oblations on the altar of St. Peter and St. Paul on the days on which those canons should officiate. To the school of St. Paul's he gave a site, called the house of Durandus, at the comer of Bell Court. De Belmeis waa an ambitious prelate. He aspired to obtain an archi- episcopal pall for the see of London, either to supplant or to rival Canterbury. St. Anselm wrote to the Pope, to urge him not to consent to the audacious act of usurpa- tion. But De Belmeis, in the later years of his life, either grew weary of business, or was under the brooding influ- ence of coming paralysis, which seized him before his death ; he withdrew from the cares of his diocese, and only thought about the foundation of a monastery of regular canons at St. Osyth in Essex. He meditated the resignation of his bishopric and retirement as one of those ciinons. But the fatal palsy seized him; for four years he lingered, and in the year 1127 died and was buried at St. Osyth. A.D. 1128. The successor of De Belmeis was neither Norman nor Saxon. How Gilbeet, with the magniloquent 124 ^t laiil's. title of the Universal, became Bisliop of London, appears not. He was a stranger and a foreigner, a canon of Lyons, and head of the famous School of Nevers. His title, the Universal, no doubt arose from his vast and all compre- hensive learning. But, as Bishop, he bore an evil name ; he was charged with covetousness — a charge which, justly or unjustly, might be made against a recluse scholar as contrasted with his splendid predecessors. He exacted much, gave little. At all events, he did not distribute his riches in his diocese. On his death enormous wealth was found in his treasury, which the Crown seized. The Bishop's boots, full of gold and silver, were carried to the exchequer. * Wherefore a man of consummate knowledge was held by the people as the greatest of fools.' So wrote his contemporary, Henry of Huntingdon. But against this charge must be set the high authority of no less a man than St. Bernard, the oracle of his times. It might seem that the glowing language of the saint was intended to exculpate Gilbert from the imputation of avarice. * All know that thou art truly wise, and hast trampled on the greatest enemy of wisdom, in a way worthy of your priestly rank and of your name, that of true wisdom which despiseth base lucre. It was not wonderful that Master Gilbert should be a bishop, but that the Bishop of London should live like a poor man, that is magnificent. . . . What then hast thou dispensed and given to the poor ? Money only ? But what is money compared with that for which thou hast exchanged it, righteousness which remains for ever and ever.' Bishop Gilbert died on his way to Rome in 1134. A.D. 1141. During the period of confusion caused by the death of Henry I. some of the Canons of St. Paul's elected as bishop Anselm, Abbot of St. Edmund's, nephew of the great Archbishop Anselm. These Canons had gone to Rome well furnished with gold, which then, as ever, was irresistible at that Court, and having obtained the Papal sanction for the election, had proceeded (in 1137) %ohtxt h ^igtllff. 125 to enthrone Anselm as Bishop of London, But the Dean and the other Canons had protested against the election. They appealed to the Pope (Innocent II.), and with arguments more weighty, no doubt of the same colour, they obtained the abrogation of the election. The Pope decreed that an election without the suiFrage of the Dean was null and void ; that the Chapter were bound to wait tiU the Dean had given his vote. The Dean and William de Beimels, nephew of Bishop Richard, were, it should seem, of the party of the Empress Maude. It was after a court, held by Stephen at Westminster (Easter 1136), that the rebel- lious Canons .hurried on their election. But their Bishop, Anselm, was forced to withdraw, and was with great diffi- culty allowed to resume his Abbey of St. Edmund's. At all events, when the Empress entered London in 1141, Robert DE SiGiLLO, a monk, of Reading, was summoned to the see of the capital. The annals of St. Paul's are silent as to any episcopal acts of Robert de Sigillo, except that he instituted the office of treasurer. He died, it is said, of eating poisoned grapes; by whom poisoned, or whether the effect of grapes only ripened under an English sun, may remain undetermined. A.B. 1152. His successor was Richard de Belmeis, nephew of the former De Belmeis. He was consecrated at Canterbury, September 1162. All we know of the second De Belmeis is, that he was a man of eloquence, and came to a melancholy end ; but what end appears not. He was bishop, however, for ten silent years, and died May 4, 1162. A.D. 1163. Gilbert Foliot had been Abbot of Glouces- ter, then Bishop of Hereford, whence he was translated to the see of London with the acquiescence, if not the approval of Archbishop Becket. His promotion was sanctioned by Pope Alexander in language of the most profound admira- tion of the Bishop's piety and wisdom. < The city of Lon- don is the royal residence. The King passes great part of 126 m. lad's. his time there, and holds the assemblies of his barons and nobles. Forasmuch then as that city is more noble and famous than all other cities of the world, the King would have it ruled by the most honourable, and the most learned in divine as well as in human law.' On the exile, or rather self-banishment, of Becket, the administration of the estates and of the diocese of Canter- bury fell to the Bishop of London. As far as the King's confidence he was Primate. Notwithstanding the general acquiescence of Fohot in the King's measures (at the com- mencement of the strife Foliot had pleaded the King's cause before the Pope), Alexander III. entrusted to the Bishops of London and Hereford the difficult and delicate commission of remonstrating with or rebuking the King for his conduct and of bringing about a reconciliation be- tween the angry monarch and the haughty prelate. The interview took place on the borders of Wales, where the King was engaged in a war with the Welsh, not with that full success which might have smoothed the temper of the irascible Henry. Foliot's answer to Pope Alexander is a remarkable document. The King had received the Bishops with courteous deference. He had listened with calm re- spect to the message from the Pope. * He had not,' Henry said, ' banished Becket.' Becket had fled the realm. He had not prohibited or impeded the Primate's return. As soon as Becket would ' promise to observe the laws and constitutions of the realm, he would be received back in peace and honour.' But the Bishop of London, while he protested his own inalienable fidelity to the legitimate Pon- tifi", nevertheless had the courage to utter a solemn warning, which sounded like a menace, to Pope Alexander. ' There was an Antipope — an Antipope supported by the Emperor. There might not be wanting a prelate who might be so unscrupulous as to accept the pall of Canterbury from the Idolj nor bishops who would acknowledge (he himself would rather endure the worst persecution) the schismatic Primate ; and so the kingdom of England and all her sees mihxt Jfolbf. 127 might be filled witli those who paid allegiance to the Anti- pope.' The strife between the King and Becket had advanced to its utmost height before the solemn excommunication of the Bishop of London. But the dread and hatred of Becket towards Foliot (held by the Primate^ justly or unjustly, as his most bitter antagonist, known to be the most eminent and formidable of the clergy who adhered to the King) had grown with the intensity of the strife. Becket had already warned Foliot, who had complained of the excom- munication of the Bishop of Salisbury. 'Bemember the fate of Ucalegon, who trembled when his neighbour's house was on fire.' ^ It was, as it seems, during the solemn service at St. Paul's, that an emissary of Becket had the boldness to enter the Cathedral, to advance to the altar, and thrust the roll bearing the sentence into the hands of the officiating priest, and to proclaim with a loud voice, ' Know all men, that Gilbert, Bishop of London, is excommunicated by Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury.' He escaped, with some diffi- culty, from the ill-usage of the people. Foliot conducted himself with calm and unshaken dig- nity. On a subsequent day he took his seat before the hig-h altar, with the Dean and Canons around him, in the pre- sence of the Abbot of Westminster, the Abbot of St. Augus- tine's, Canterbury, the Abbot of Ohertsey, the Priors of many other monasteries, the archdeacons and clergy of very many churches. The Bishop dwelt on the irregularity of the proceeding. He averred that he had been condemned without citation, without commonition, without hearing, without trial, in violation of a well-known canon of Pope Sixtus ; and he pronounced his solemn appeal to the Pope, and recommended to his Holiness, not only his own case, as that of an innocent man, but that of our Lord the King and all the nobles of the realm. The Dean and the Ohap- « The Archbishop was not well up in his Virgil. 128 m. laul's. ter joined in the petition to the Pope ; most of tlie clergy followed tlie example. On the working of the excommunication, we know not much. According to one account, Becket issued an admo- nition to the Dean of St. Paul's, the Archdeacon and Clergy, to abstain from all communion with the attainted prelate. Foliot for a time defied the interdict, but at length, ' listen- ing to wiser counsels, bowed before the authority of the Primate, and did not enter the church of St. Paul.' Bishop Foliot was by no means, during this fierce and absorbing strife, forgetful or negligent of his episcopal duties. He urged, in one address to his diocese, the obligation of contributing to the completion of the fabric of the church, which had been begun, but could not be carried on without the devout aid of the faithful. In another charge he ex- horts his parishioners, we presume, all within his jurisdic- tion, by the labours, the sufferings, the glorious successes of their patron Saint and Apostle, to annual contributions and legacies on their deathbeds for this pious purpose. He offers liberal indulgences to the living, and masses for the souls of the dead. A.D. 1189. The successor of Gilbert Foliot (who died Feb. 18, 1187) was Kichard de Ely. His real name was Fitz Neal, as the son, bastard, or legitimate if born before his father's holy orders, of Nigellus, Bishop of Ely. Henry II., shortly before his death, had designated Richard of Ely (he had been a travelling justiciary in 1179) for the Bishopric of London. The King summoned the Canons of St. Paul's to Normandy, under the command to elect the Bishop in his presence. The election was adjourned from day to day till after the King's death. Were the poor Canons kept waiting all this time in a strange land ? Richard I., on his accession, confirmed the appointment of Richard of Ely. Bishop Richard Fitz Neal was the first man of letters upon the throne of London. He was, no doubt, the author of that most remarkable dialogue on the Exchequer {De Scaccario), which throws so much light on the history, finances, and laws of England. He wrote also a Chronicle called Tricolumnus, as written in three columns. [Dean Kadtjlph de Diceto. On the coronation of Richard I. at Westminster (Sept. 3, 1189), the see of Lon- don being vacant (Foliot was dead, Richard of Ely not con- secrated), Radulph de Diceto, Dean of St. Paul's, ministered the holy oil and chrism to the Archbishop. Radulph de Diceto was the first Dean of St. Paul's of any name, cer- tainly the first man of letters among the Deans. And it is singular that the first Bishop of London and the first Dean of St. Paul's who obtained distinction as writers should have been contemporaries, and both have written chronicles of their times. If Diceto may not claim the honoured title of historian, as a mediaeval chronicler he holds, from his Imagines Historiae and his Abbreviatio Ohronicorum, a high position in his class. The long and confidential letters concerning the affairs of the Church, and his relation to the King of England and the King of France, show the high respect attached to his wisdom and experience. Like most of the Clergy, Diceto seems to have been overawed by the greatness, or felt sympathy with the lofty churchmanship, of Becket. He heard with satis- faction that Bishop Foliot, though disposed to defy and hold as null and void the ban of the Archbishop, had lis- tened to wiser advice, perhaps his own (he was not yet Dean, but was a Canon of St. Paul's), and kept aloof from the public services in the Cathedral. Although the public career of Diceto extended over a period of fifty years, there is no record of his parentage or of the place and date of his birth. It has been conjectured^ that he was a near rela- tion of Bishop Richard II. de Belmeis, by whom he was appointed to the Archdeaconry of Middlesex. In 1180 he was elected by the free votes of the Canons to the vacant *■ See Historical Works of Master Ralph de Diceto, Dean of London. Edited by William Stubbs, M.A., Regius Professor of Modem History in the University of Oxford, &c. Preface, p. xxvii. 130 m, |atirs. Deanery, and entered upon his new office witli long expe- rience and a strong love of his Church. His beneficial ■work can still be traced in the administrative history and in the statute book of the Cathedral. ' His historical labours/ writes Professor Stubbs, 'were by no means the whole of his work : his reputation as a theologian was con- siderable, and the scriptorium of St. Paul's produced pos- tills, as well as chronicles and compilations, of which he was the author ; but his hand is as distinctly traceable in the register, the survey, and the statute book ; the same strikingly beautiful penmanship — the Pauline hand as I shall venture to call it — which under his superintendence recorded the great events of history, may be recognised among the extant muniments of his Cathedral.' ^ Radulph de Diceto built the Deanery of St. Paul's, in- habited after him by many men of lettei's : before the Re- formation by the admirable Colet, who may compensate for many names ; after the Reformation by Alexander Nowell, Donne, Sancroft, who rebuilt the mansion after the fire, Stillingfleet, Tillotson, W. Sherlock, Butler, Seeker, Newton, Van ]VIildert, Copleston, Milman, Mansel. The date of Diceto's death, as of his birth, is uncertain : but occurred most^probably on November 22, 1202.] ; The episcopate of Richard de Ely was nearly commen- surate with the reign of Richard Coeur de Lion. Bishop Richard conferred on the school of St. Paul's the tithes of his manors of Fulham and Horsett. The man of letters patronised men of letters. He appointed the celebrated Peter of Blois, Archdeacon of London. A barren honour ! for Peter writes to the Pope that he must learn to live, * like a dragon,' on wind. Though London had 40,000 in- habitants and 120 churches, he could obtain neither tithes, first-fruits, nor oiFerings. The episcopate of Richard de Ely was on the whole as peaceful as the reign of King Richard was warlike and adventurous. B Preface, p. Iv, as above. Killhm h §^mxth Maria* 131 A.D. 1199. His successor, a Norman, William de Sancta Maria, was cast on darker and more troubled times in Church and State, — the reign of King John. William de Sancta Maria was appointed "by Richard just before his death. He had been Canon of York, Dean of St. Martin's in London, and Canon of St. Paul's. The first years of his episcopate passed smoothly on. In 1 208 Bishop William was summoned to read the Papal Interdict against the whole realm of England. He obeyed the mandate, and London with the rest of the kingdom heard the fearful office, which closed all the churches of the land to the devout worshippers, and deprived them of the prayers, the masses, all the spiritual blessings and privileges of the Church. Infants lay unbaptized, except with some hasty and imperfect ceremony. Joyless marriages were hurriedly performed in the church porch; the dying yearned in vain for anointment with the blessed oil and for the Holy Eucharist ; the dead were buried in unconsecrated ground. But though the interdict was thus remorselessly laid on the realm, the whole guiltless and unofiending realm, over the one guilty rebel against the Church, with a strange and capricious delay, hung, threatening but unuttered, the per- sonal ban. The godless John alone remained unsmitten, untouched. The Bishop of London, who, without resist- ance, had pronounced the fatal ban against his whole dio- cese, against the citizens of London, had fears or conscien- tious scruples about the sentence against the King. Bishop William de Sancta Maria went into self-inflicted exile on the Continent for five years. But neither his scruples nor his self-banishment prevailed against the vengeance of the King. He and his brother Bishops, Ely and Worcester, it is said, had dared to remonstrate against the stubborn ob- stinacy of John. On their flight the King in his fury began a fierce persecution of Clergy. The sherifis were ordered to confiscate all the revenues of refractory Bishops and abbeys. ' The clergy might go and complain to their protector, the k2 132 ^t. laul's. Pope.' No doubt the estates of the Bishop of London, with the rest, were seized into the King's hands. We are informed that the demolition of the Bishop's castle at Stortford was specially commanded. Bishop William was with Stephen Langton in his jour- ney to Rome, and, with Langton, published the sentence of deposition against King John. William of London returned to England with Stephen Langton, the Primate. To him, on the submission of John, had been awarded 750 pounds, out of the indemnity to the Bishops for their losses during their exile. With Langton and his brother bishops he met the repentant King (of the sincerity of John's repentance 'twere well to say nothing), who threw himself at their feet, and implored their mercy on himself and the realm of England. The King received absolution, and swore on the Gospels fidelity to the laws of England, and fidelity to the Pope, Innocent III. After mass, in token of the general reconciliation, there was a great banquet, at which met the King and the Bishops. Short-lived peace ! There can be little doubt that the Bishop of London was present at the great assemblage convened, but five weeks later, in the Cathedral of St. Paul. There met the Prelates, Abbots, Deans, Priors, the Barons of England. After some lighter business, Langton led aside some of the more distingiushed Barons and Prelates, displayed the old Charter of Henry I., and solemnly enjoined them to stand firm for the liberties of England, and pledged himself with equal solemnity to their support. This convention in St. Paul's was the prelude to that more memorable scene at Runnymede. William de Sancta Maria voluntarily abdicated his bishopric January 26, 1221, re- taining the power of wearing his pontifical robes in any church to which he might be invited, though his usual dress was that of a regular canon of St. Osyth. A.D. 1221. Eustace de Fatjconbeeg, who succeeded to William de Sancta Maria, had been chiefly distinguished by his, descent from one of the old Norman barons (perhaps allied to Shakspeare's Falconbridge), and by the high offices which he had held in the state as King's justiciary, as twice ambassador in France, and as high treasurer of the realm. The chief event of Fauconberg's episcopate was the settle- ment of the dispute with the Abbot of Westminster about jurisdiction over certain churches, specially that of St. Mar- garet's. He also laid the foundation of the choir of the Cathedral, and completed the bell-tower. Besides this, Fulk de Breaut^, the great freebooting rebel who played so important a part in the wars at the end of John's reign and the beginning of that of Henry HI., was committed to the custody of Eustace, Bishop of London. To some monkish verse on the fall of Fulk the compassionate but facetious bishop replied with two lines of Ovid, ' If each of the gods (saints, suggests Paris) were to revenge his own wrongs, Fulk, in his single person, would never satisfy the demands of their vengeance.' Bishop Eustace died a.d. 1228. A.D. 1229. Roger the Black (Niger) was elected by the Canons of St. Paul's out of their o vn body to succeed de Fauconberg. Bishop Roger was ' profound in letters, honourable and praiseworthy in all things, a lover and defender of religion, without pride, venerable for his life, and of admirable sanc- tity, famous for his knowledge, and a perspicuous preacher; ' thus writes Paris. Roger was of the high English faction, jealous of all foreign encroachment, jealous above all of the foreigners, who, either for their own emolument or as tribute to Rome, sent abroad the wealth of the land. The principal persons involved in these transactions w^ere the Caorsin bankers, branded of course as usurers and extortioners (for all usury, according to the Church, was wicked and unchris- tian), though these bankers were the agents of the Pope. This feeling prevailed not in those times alone. Old Stowe ^ thus writes of their dealings : — * Roger Niger ad- •» Strype's Stowe, vol. ii. p. 119. 134 m. laul's. monished the usurers of his time to leave such enormities, as they tendered the salvation of their souls, and to do pe- nance for what they had committed. But after he saw they laughed him to scorn, and also threatened him, the Bishop generally excommunicated and accursed all such, and de- manded strictly that such usurers should depart further from the city of London, which had been hitherto ignorant of such mischief and wickedness, lest his diocese should he in- fected therewithal/ But the Bishop had more powerful auxiliaries than these curses to cleanse his innocent city. In the year 1232 the populace rose and burned the barns and warehouses of the foreigners. Bishop Roger, though he could not but anathe- matise the offenders, was, doubtless not unjustly, suspected of looking on them with secret favour. But the Italians were under the shield of the Papacy. Roger was obliged to make a journey to Rome to meet the charge. He did not come off without a heavy fine. He had again the courage to excommunicate all usurers. This involved him in new troubles with Rome, where money dealers had a dominant interest, and insisted on full freedom of plunder in the vassal realm. Bishop Roger was no less courageous in his opposition to the King and his JVIinisters. Hubert de Burgh fell from the height of his power ; he sought sanctuary in a chapel within the diocese of London. He was dragged thence by violence. Bishop Roger demanded an interview with the King, complained of the violation of the privileges of the Church, and threatened an anathema against the King's offi- cers, if the fallen Chancellor was not reinstated in his sanc- tuary. The King yielded ; but the chapel was closely watched to starve De Burgh into surrender. Still the Bi- shop did not rest till he had wrung from the reluctant King full liberty for Hubert de Burgh. The Clergy of London owe a deep debt of gratitude to Bishop Roger. He obtained a law, formally assented to by the citizens of London in council, that they should pay iulk ^RBstt 135 a certaia assessment in the pound on their property as" oiFerings to the Clergy. This constitution, more than once confirmed hy Primates and Popes, and finally ratified by Pope Nicholas V., was maintained in its full latitude till the Fire of London. An Act of Parliament then regu- lated the emoluments of those churches which had heen burned, and left the right only to those which had escaped the fire. Bishop Roger was equally zealous and munificent in the completion and endowment of his Cathedral. But the magnificence of the fabric exhausted his treasury and the contributions of his diocese. During the episcopate of his five successors, Briefs were issued to the whole of Eng- land to solicit alms for this great national work, to be repaid by proportionate Indulgences. Yet, though insufficient for the splendour of his church, the revenues of the Bishop must have been enormous. During the vacancy of the see at Roger's death, the King gave orders that out of the funds escheated for the time to the royal treasury 1,500 poor should be feasted, on the day of the conversion of St. Paul, in the churchyard, and 1,500 lights offered in the church. Bishop Roger was canonised by popular acclamation ; his tomb in the south aisle was visited by devout wor- shippers, and Indulgences granted for this pious work. A.D. 1244. On the death of Roger the Black at his manor of Stepney, Sept. 29, 1241, the King endeavoured to force Peter, Bishop of Hereford, into the see of London. Peter was rejected, and the Canons proceeded to the elec- tion of FuLK Basset, of Norman descent, Dean of "York. But Fulk Basset was not consecrated till October 9, 1244. For three years London was without her Bishop. Not two years after his accession the Bishop of London was called upon to enforce the audacious demand of the Pope (Inno- cent IV.) of one-third of their ecclesiastical income from the resident clergy, half from non-resident — a demand clenched by what M. Paris calls that ' detestable ' phrase, 136 m. lattl's. * non obstante.' This plu'ase swept away all privileges and exceptions. Bishop Fulk held a Council at St. Paul's. That demand was too much even for the King. In his name appeared John de Lexington, Knight, and Master Lawrence of St. Martin's, the King's clerk, absolutely prohibiting obedience to the Pope. Fulk Basset, no doubt, drew up the bold reply, curious not only for its boldness, but for its details. * If the Pope had known the state and condition of the kingdom of England, he would never have promulgated such a statute. In cathedral churches it was the usage that non-resident Canons performed their functions by Minor Canons. If half their revenues were cut off, the duties of the Cathedral could not be performed, as they could not maintain the Minor Canons, nor with so large a portion of their income in default could they themselves reside. After deducting the expenses of collection and other burdens, hardly a fourth part would remain. So would hospitality altogether become impossible ; alms to the poor would cease ; those who could not dig and were ashamed to beg would perish with hunger, or take to rob- bery and pillage.' The remonstrance to the Pope ended "with a significant appeal to a General Council shortly to be holden. Bishop Fulk had to repel the aggression of a more dangerous antagonist. The Primacy of England had been wrested from the Bishops of England. On the death of the unworldly and sainted Edmund Rich, the King and the Pope had forced on the too obsequious, afterwards bitterly repentant, monks of Can- terbury a foreigner, almost an Italian. Boniface, Bishop- elect of Bellay, was uncle to the Queen, and brother of that Philip of Savoy, the warlike and mitred bodyguard of Innocent IV.; who became Archbishop of Lyons. Boniface was elected in 1240, confirmed by Pope Innocent not before 1245. The handsome, proud prelate found that Edmund, however saintly, had been but an indifferent ^tm P^nrg h C0rn^HI, 137 steward of the temporalities of tlie diocese. Canterbury was loaded with an enormous debt, and Boniface came not to England to preside over an impoverished see. He obtained a grant from the Pope of first-fruits from all the benefices in his province, by which he raised a vast sum. Six years after the Primate announced and set forth on a visitation of his province, not, as it was said, and as too plainly ap- peared, for the glory of God, but in quest of ungodly gain. Bishops, chapters, monasteries must submit to this unusual discipline, haughtily and rapaciously enforced by a foreigner. From Feversham and Rochester he extorted large sums. He appeared in London, treated the Bishop (Fulk Basset, of the old Norman house) and his jurisdiction with contempt. The Dean of St. Paul's (Henry de Oorn- hill) stood by his Bishop. The Primate appeared with his cuirass gleaming under his pontifical robes. The Dean closed the doors of his cathedral against him. Boniface solemnly excommunicated Henry, Dean of St. Paul's, and his Chapter, in the name of St. Thomas the Martyr of Can- terbury. The sub-Prior of St. Bartholomew's (the Prior was dead) fared still worse. He calmly pleaded the rights of the Bishop ; the wrathful Primate rushed on the old man, struck him down with his own hand, tore his splen- did vestment, and trampled it under foot. The Bishop of London was involved in the excommunication. The Dean of St. Paul's appealed to the Pope ; the excommuni-» cation was suspended. But Boniface himself proceeded in great pomp to Borne. The uncle of the Queen of England, the now wealthy Primate of England, could not but obtain favour with Innocent. The Dean of St. Paul's was com- pelled to submit to the supreme archiepiscopal authority. In some respects even more formidable was the strife of Fulk Basset with the Gascon, Bustand ; more formidable because he had to resist almost alone the confederate authority of the King and of the Pope. The Archbishop of Canterbury, Boniface, was on the Continent, engaged in other affairs ; York was dead ; Winchester a Poitevin on 138 m, faitl's. the King's side, and therefore the accomplice of Rustand. Rustand exhibited his full powers as Legate before a Coun- cil held in St. Paul's. On learning the exorbitant demand of Kustand — a tenth on England, Scotland, and Ireland — Bishop Fulk cried aloud, ' Before I submit the Church to such slavery, I will lay my head on the block.' Bishop Cantelupe of Worcester, in less dignified phrase, said, ' I will be hanged first.' Rustand hastened to the King to denounce the Bishop as a rebel. The King heaped abuse upon the Bishop, and threatened him with Papal censure. The Norman replied, ' The Pope and the King may take away my bishopric, which, however, they cannot legally do ; they may strip me of my mitre, I shall still wear my helmet.' And in later days Fulk of London was as good as his word. He espoused the cause of the Barons. His name appears affixed to the provisions of the Parliament of Oxford. He died of the plague, a.d. 1259. A.D. 1259. To the gallant Fulk Basset succeeded Henry de Wejs^gham. He was Lord High Chancellor when the see of London became vacant. He was obliged to take priest's orders to qualify himself for the bishopric. De Wengham had no jealousy of, or thought himself safer tinder, Papal dispensation. His license is extant to hold the deanery of St. Martin's-le-Grand in London, the chan- cellorship of Exeter, a prebend of Salisbury, and all his other parsonages, even other benefices. A month after he obtained this decree, De Wengham, as Bishop of London, petitioned to hold all these preferments with London for five years. He retained the Chancellorship for more than a year after his election. But death did not respect either the civil or sacerdotal dignities of the Chancellor-Bishop. He died long before the five years elapsed. He was Bishop hardly three years, 1259-1262. A.D. 1268. The actual successor of De Wengham, Hejs^ex de Sandwich, was elected November 13, 1262. pntrg bje ^anbfoit^. 139 Before Sandwich, Richard Talbot, Dean of St. Paul's, had been elected Bishop, but died the day after his confirmation, Sept. 20, 1262. Sandwich was obliged to seek the King in France, and the Archbishop in Savoy. He was confirmed by Boniface, and consecrated in May 1263. In the Barons' wars Henry de Sandwich was resolutely on the side of Simon de Montfort and the liberties of England. If not by his orders, at least with his connivance, the great bell of St. PauFs was the tocsin which summoned the citizens to arms. When th& Queen, who was left in the Tower, endeavoured to join the King, her husband, in the Castle at Windsor, as she would have passed the bridge, her barge was arrested, and her passage stopped by the populace. She was only rescued by the Bishop of London, who conveyed her respectfully and in safety to his episcopal palace. Guido Falcodi, the Papal Legate, who was on his way to England to settle these afiairs with a high hand, and authoritatively to annul the Provisions of Oxford, was arrested at Boulogne, and forbidden to land in England. He launched his excommunication against the Cinque Ports and the city of London. But Guido Falcodi was hastUy summoned to assume the Papal tiara as Clement IV., and foi^ot not as Pope the insult that, afe Legate, he had received in England ; but himself suspended Henry de Sandwich (a.d. 1265). The Bishop of London had during the war excommunicated the Prince and all his followers. In the year following London and three other Bishops were solemnly excommunicated at Northampton. The Pope ratified the ban. No favour was to be shown to the Bishops of Worcester, London, Lincoln, and Ely ; they were on no account to be released from excommunication. Sandwich was obliged to journey to Rome to obtain absolution. He lingered or was detained there six years in exile. At length he w]'ung forth his slow pardon from Pope Gregory X. In the pardon his crimes were duly recited. He had favoured the Barons with his counsel j he had celebrated 140 ^f. |rfs. divine service in London, wlien under suspension by Car- dinal Hadrian, and, in despite of the excommunication, lie had communicated with excommunicated persons. He had lately shown ^ood conduct and devout penitence. Full pardon and absolution were granted by the Holy Father. Sandwich returned to England in 1273, after the accession of Edward I. He returned to die : not to preside, but to be buried in his Cathedral. A.D. 1274. Jobcn: de Chishull, who was elected Bishop of London in 1273, and was consecrated in 1374, had accumulated not a few ecclesiastical and civil offices. He had been Provost of Beverley, Archdeacon of London, Dean of St. Paul's, High Treasurer and Chancellor of the Exchequer. Bishop Chishull fell into ill health. No won- der, considering his various arduous functions ! The Pri- mate, John Peckham, issued a commission to the Dean and Treasurer of St. Paul's, empowering them to present to prebends and other benefices, with or without cure of souls, and to perform other acts belonging to the episcopal func- tion. Another commission, with the same powers, was issued to the Archdeacon of Colchester, no doubt for the part of the diocese in Essex. A.D. 1280. On the death of Chishull, in 1280, a sin- gular transaction took place. The Canons elected Fulk Lovel, Archdeacon of Colchester, who on the same day refused the bishopric. Lovel alleged bodily weakness and Bcruples of conscience for his refusal; but some averred that Lovel held other benefices, as many as twenty, worth more than the bishopric ; others, that he might have been rejected by the Primate Peckham, for the sin of holding so many pluralities. Peckham rebuked Lovel for his modesty, or his interested motives, in declining the duty and dignity of a Bishop ; but some said that Lovel had also been elected to Lincoln, then a richer bishopric than London, and had declined that also. On the refusal of Lovel the Canons proceeded to a new election ; and their choice fell upon RiCHAED DE Gravesend, Canon and Treasurer of St. Paul's, Jic^arb l^t §XRbt$tn)i> 141 and Archdeacon of Northampton, who occupied the £ee for twenty-three years. Bishop de Gravesend had a dispute concerning jurisdic- tion with the Primate. The Archbishop had proceeded against a rector in the diocese of London in the Court of Arches, without notice to the Bishop of London. The Bishop protested against this as an invasion of his autho- rity. But Peckham vindicated his metropolitan supremacy. Coadjutors, too, were at one time appointed by the Primate to act for the Bishop of London, possibly from some tem- porary illness, or on account of the absence of Gravesend as ambassador to France. It was during the episcopate of Gravesend that the Dean of St. Paul's, William de Montfort, appeared in the distinguished office of representative of the Clergy to resist the demands of the King (Edward I.) for the moiety of their income as a subsidy. It was a melancholy distinction ! Hardly had the voice of the Dean been heard, when he fell dead at the King's feet. A fit of apoplexy was no doubt the last cause assigned for this awful event. Of course it was a sign of God's displeasure, but against whom ? Against the King, as a warning, on account of his sacrilegious in- vasion of the property of the Church ? or, as Edward and his Court might think, against the rebellious Clergy who resisted the ' powers that be ' ? Two years after, when the taxation of the Clergy was more imperiously urged, Arch- bishop Winchelsey, in a letter addressed to Richard Bishop of London, commanded him to summon a convocation of the whole Clergy at St. Paul's. To the Bishop of London, too, the Primate addressed another letter, fiercely denun- ciatory of all the impious men who, in defiance of the de- crees of the Lateran Council, should presume to invade the property of the Church, and of the Clergy who should sub- mit to such a sacrilegious taxation. He commanded the Bishop to pubhsh in his Cathedral the Bull of the Pope (we are in the high days of Boniface VIII.), which excommuni- cated all emperors, kings, barons, who should dare to exact 142 ^t. |a«rs. any payment of any kind on account of cliurcli property, and any ecclesiastic of any rank down to the lowest, who should make any payment whatever, under any pretext whatever. Two years later Bishop Richard addressed the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul's, reciting the mandate of Robert Arch- bishop of Canterbury, but with a remarkable addition. The King had issued his orders that twice in the year, on the Feast of All Souls and on Palm Sunday, should be read in all cathedrals and parish churches, the Great Charter and the Forest Charter, with a penalty of the larger excommu- nication against all who should violate these statutes. The two Archbishops and other Bishops assembled at West- minster had agreed to that publication in the vulgar tongue. After this the mandate returns to the Lateran Council, and the Bull of Pope Boniface, which excom- municated with bell, book, and candle, all who should lay their impious hands on the property of the Church, or the persons of the Clergy. Bishop Richard declared that, health permitting, and no obstacle intervening, he himself, on the appointed days, would read the excommunication of the violators of the Charter and the invaders of Church property; that, on those occasions, the usual processions would take place at St. Paul's. The letter closes with a crowning excommunication, which he is resolved to promul- gate against the Scots for violation of the peace of their borders. Another remarkable event occurred earlier in the episco- pate of De Gravesend. There came an admonition from Archbishop Peckham, ordering the destruction of all the synagogues of the Jews in London but one. The fatal hour of their total expulsion from England was drawing on. Bishop Richard died December 9, 1303. His will, as it is popularly called, or rather the accompt of his property attached to his will, as proved in the Archbishop's Court, is stiU preserved among the archives of St. Paul's. It describes the eifects of all kinds, with the value of each separate pro- 8SUI of §xs^0p (^xnbtmxii, 143 perty furnislied by his executors, for the probate of which it appears that 601. was paid to the Archbishop's Court. The roll measures twenty-eight feet in length, by about one foot in width. It is the full inventory of his plate, the goods of his chapel, his jewels, his robes, his bed-furniture, his carpets, his kitchen, his butlery, his horses, his coach, his arms (a single sword), his wine, his wardrobe {guar da roha), which contained his books. Besides this, the corn and stock on all and each of his manors and farms. The value of each article is attached. The value of the books was above 100/. The total value was nearly 3,000/. At that period, making allowance for the relative value of silver and the price of commodities, the sum may be multi- plied by about fifteen, to bring it to its present value. A.D. 1306. Ralph de Baldock was elected Bishop on the vigil of St. Matthias, 1304 ; but the election being dis- puted at Home, he was not consecrated till January 1306. He had been Lord Chancellor and D^an of St. Paul's, and in the latter office accursed at Paul's Cross all who had searched, or consented to the digging, for treasure in the church of St. Martin-le-Grand. Ralph Baldock wrote a history of Great Britain from the earliest times to his own day. This work had been seen by Leland, but is now irre- coverably lost. He also wrote a book on the Statutes and Customs of the Church of St. Paul. In 1309 a Provincial Council concerning the Templars met in St. Paul's. Ralph Baldock sat in judgment on the Templars, but not, as appears, in the Cathedral. He died in 1313. A.D. 1313. Gilbert de Segrave was Bishop from 1313 to 1317. He also was an author — of theological lectures and quodlibets, said to have been preserved in some one of the libraries at Oxford. There let them sleep. Some may regret Baldock's history ; few the theology of Segrave. A.D. 1317. Richard de Newport. A.D. 1319. Stephen de Gravebend. He was nephew of Bishop Richard, the third instance of a nephew following 144 ^t. laul's. his uncle in the see of London. Stephen de Gravesend contested the right of the Archbishop of Canterbury to visit St. Paul's, but in a more peaceful way than his prede- cessor had been compelled to contest it against Archbishop Boniface. He appealed to Rome, but was worsted in his appeal. It is no wonder that Bishop Stephen was restive, if we consider the amount which was paid to Walter the Archbishop, by the hands of Almeric, Earl of Pembroke, the Bishop's seneschal, for procurations on his consecra- tion : — a vast quantity of linen, and of tapers and candles, 200 loaves, 6 larger barrels of wine, 36 smaller, 1 ox, 1 hog, 4 calves, 24 rabbits, 36 chickens and capons, 50 cercd et beket ? 200 larks, hay for 160 horses for two nights, and other provender. The Bishop had assigned 20 marks ster- ling to be distributed among the Primate's servants. But these were not paid. On the deposition of Edward II. Bishop Stephen was involved in a perilous affair. He refused to admit the justice or legality of the sentence, and was ill-treated by the populace for his fidelity to the fallen King. After the death of Edward II. (Sept. 21, 1327), Edmond Earl of Kent, William Archbishop of York, and Stephen Bishop of London were accused of conspiring to disseminate ru- mours that Edward was still alive. The Earl of Kent lost his head for the ofience. The Prelates were convicted of high treason, hut were pardoned by Act of Parliament in 1336. A.D. 1338. Richard de Bintworth, or de Went- worth. A.D. 1340. Ralph de Stratford. There are several curious mandates addressed by Simon Islip, Archbishop of Canterbury, to Ralph Bishop of London, on the exor- bitant salaries demanded by chaplains for the cure of souls (sinecures were in the order of the day) ; on certain priests, imprisoned for civil ofiences, some of whom, it seems, were so overfed and pleasantly lodged as to en- courage ofiences, and a Convocation was summoned to be held in St. Paul's. A.D. 1354. Michael DE NoRTHBURGH. Bishop Michael was the first founder of the Charterhouse, but that noble institution never received the full fruits of his munificence. On the death of Bishop Michael the temporalities of the see were entrusted to the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul's, paying to the King annually 1,000/., or jpro rata A.D. 1362. SiMoisr Stjdbfry, who became Bishop of London a.d. 1362, had spent many years in the Papal Court at Avignon at a time when that Court, under the best and greatest of the Avignonese Pontiffs, Innocent VI., had been at the height of its splendour, and had thrown off, for a time at least, its evil fame for unequalled profli- gacy. Sudbury had been domestic chaplain to the Pope, and rose to the distinction of being of the Rota, This is the more extraordinary, if there be truth in the report of a speech attributed to him when Bishop of London. At that time he can hardly have had vision of the primacy, to which London was now beginning to be a stepping- stone. It is said that, in the midst of a vast multitude of pilgrims wending their way, in profound devotion, to the shrine of St. Thomas in Canterbury, the Bishop re- proved them for their superstitious folly, and told them that their hopes of the promised plenary indulgence were vain and idle. Yet the tone of that speech is singularly accordant with the reproach heaped upon Sudbury by the High Church party, that his ignominious death was a just judgment for his lenity to the Wycliffites, now beginning to be obnoxious. But it was not as Bishop of London, nor indeed as Archbishop of Canterbury, that Simon Sudbury met his miserable fate. He was beheaded by the insurgent rabble on Tower Hill as Chancellor, an office especially odious The insurrection was against the Lawyers, not against the Clergy. * Pull down the Inns of Court,' was the cry ; it does not seem that they approached or treated the Cathedral otherwise than with respect. Sudbury, indeed, was in- cautious in his language : he had called the rebels ^ shoe- 146 ^L laul's. less ribalds.' His last words (we trust truly reported) were more in the spirit of his Divine Master. He died imploring the mercy of God upon his murderers. Did he learn the lesson at Avignon, or from the English Bible, now beginning to fly abroad ? (See Canterbury.) A.D. 1375. The successor of Simon Sudbury in the see of London was a prelate of a very difl'erent character, William de Oourtenat, Bishop of Hereford, of that noble, even imperial house (he was son of the Earl of Devon) ; a churchman of the loftiest and boldest views, and of the most inflexible temper. The first act of Oourtenay displayed the dauntless bravery of* the man. He was translated from Hereford, Sept. 12, 1875. In the next year the King (Edward HI.), who was declining in age and authority, demanded a subsidy from the clergy for the expense of his wars. Oourtenay, in the full convocation at St. Paul's, protested against the grant, till the grievances of the Clergy and certain wronga fcgainst himself and the Bishop of Winchester should be redressed. The Clergy, encouraged by Courtenay, refused the grant. But before the end of the year the King had his revenge. The Pope, Gregory XI., had launched an anathema against the Florentines. The Bull was distributed throughout Christendom. The Florentines, the great mer- chants of the world in every kingdom of Europe, being under the ban of outlawry, might be plundered with impu- nity. Bishop Courtenay, without permission from the Crown, caused the Bull to be publicly read at Paul's Cross. This was not only a direct infringement of the Statute of Provisors, but a license, or rather an incitement, to the rabble to pillage the shops and warehouses of the rich Flo- rentine bankers and traders. The Lord Mayor, as guardian of the public peace and protector of property within the City, took up the affair with a high hand. He affixed his seal to the chief warehouses and banks, and leading the principal men of the Florentines into the presence of the King, demanded and obtained the royal protection for them HImm lit ^ouximn]^. 147 and for their property. The Bishop of St. David's, the Chancellor, demanded of Courtenay by what authority he had acted. ' By that of the Pope's mandate ! ' It was a clear case of Praemunire. The Chancellor offered the hard alternative, the formal revocation of the edict, or the for- feiture of all his temporalities to the Crown. The Bishop of London hardly obtained permission to execute the act of revocation, not in person : it had been too humiliating. The Bishop's Official appeared at Paul's Cross, and, with a most contemptible evasion, if not a flagrant falsehood, declared that the Lord Bishop had said nothing of the interdict, * He wondered that the people, accustomed to hear so many sermons in that place, should so have misunderstood his words.' Of all Bishops, Courtenay would most strongly resent any invasion of the episcopal privileges, still more any audacious rebellion against the dominant doctrines of the Church. Wychffe was summoned to answer at St. Paul's, before the Archbishop, of Canterbury and the Bishop of London, for opinions deserving ecclesiastical censures.' "William Courtenay was still Bishop of London during the great insurrection of the Commons (a.d. 1 381) in which Sudbury perished. But St. Paul's and her Bishop were alike unmolested. While the Temple, the Duke of Lan- caster's splendid palace in the Savoy, and the magnificent house of the Knights Hospitallers in Clerkenwell, were in flames, the Cathedral stood secure ; the Bishop, either in his palace of London, or in more remote and quiet Fulham, remained undisturbed. Courtenay, on Sudbury's death, became Archbishop ; and did not shrink from assuming with the Primacy the more dangerous and unpopular office of High Chancellor. (See Canterbury.) A.B. 1382. On the advancement of Courtenay, Robert DE Beatbroke was ' promoted,' by a Bull of Pope Urban VI., to the Bishopric of London, and was consecrated in the * For a description of the scene, see Latin Christianity, vol, viii. p. 191. l2 148 ^1. lattls. chapel at Lambeth (January 5, 1382). He had received the temporalities of the see from the King in the preceding month. The Great Seal was, for a short time, in the custody of De Braybroke, whilst Bishop of London. It had been taken from the hands of Richard Scroop, who had demurred, on account of the King's youth, to sign certain grants. It was to pass soon into the hands of Michael de la Pole, the King's favourite. In 1387, Sir Nicholas Exton, the Lord Mayor, received King Richard in great pomp, and escorted him to the Cathedral. At this service the Bishop of London was not present. De Braybroke was of the other faction. At the assembly in Westminster, Braybroke took the lead. He endeavoured with all his eloquence — and the fame of his eloquence was great — to persuade the King to take the Duke of Gloucester and the Barons, who acted with Gloucester, into the royal favour ; he denounced the Duke of Ireland, the King's favourite, as the seducer of the King from all good. In 1391, the Bishop of Loudon acted as a mediator between the King and the City of London. The City had refused to lend the King money, and had incurred the forfeiture of its privileges, which was enforced with eager haste on the occasion of a riot, with effraction and murder, in the palace of the Bishop of Salisbmy. Bishop Braybroke, on account of his influence in making their peace with the King, was much honoured by the citizens during all his life. In 1395, the Bishop of London, with Arundel, Archbi- shop of York, at the instigation of the Primate, crossed the sea to the King in Ireland. The chief object was to obtain powers to proceed against the Lollards. In the final contest between the King and the Duke of Gloucester, Braybroke of London does not seem to have taken part. It is Archbishop Arundel, alone of the highest Clergy, who is impeached of high treason, and compelled by a sentence of banishment to fly the realm. The Bishop certainly made no opposition to the revolution which de- throned Ricliard 11. Of all the hierarchy, Merks only, of Carlisle, boldly espoused the cause of the fallen Richard. Yet, though deeply involved in social and even civil affairs, Bishop Robert de Braybroke was in no way negligent of his episcopal duties. The tiroes might seem to demand a vigorous and vigilant Bishop. He issued a strong rebuke against working on Sundays and Feast days ; especially against shoemakers and cobblers. A prohibition was read at Paul's Cross against barbers shaving on Sundays. As usual, these mandates struck at humble sinners. But Braybroke flew at higher game. He reformed his own Chapter,'' and issued letters denouncing the profanity of St. Paul's, which had fallen into grievous disrepute from the marketing and trading carried on in the church itself. He alleges the example of the Saviour, who cast the buyers and sellers out of the Temple. ' In our Cathedral, not only men, women also, not on common days alone, but especially on festivals, expose their wares, as it were in a public market, buy and sell, without reverence for the holy place.' More than this, the Bishop dwells on more filthy abuses, ^ Others, too, by the instigation of the Devil, do not scruple with stones and arrows to bring down the birds, pigeons, and jackdaws which nestle in the walls and crevices of the building : others play at ball or at other unseemly games, both within and without the church, breaking the beautiful and costly painted windows, to the amazement of the spectators.' The Bishop threatens these offenders, if they do not desist, on monition, from these irreverent practices, to visit them with the greater excommunication. But he died August 27, 1404. A.D. 1405. RoGEK BE Waldeis-, Dean of York, the successor of De Braybroke, arrived at the bishopric of London by a strange and unusual course. It had not been uncommon for the Bishop of London to rise to the Archie- piscopate of Canterbury. Roger de Walden, from at least titular Archbishop, sank quietly into Bishop of London. ^ Annals, p. 82. 150 ^t. |a»rs. Archbisliop Arundel had been impeaclied and "banished. An ingenious fiction had been contrived to remove trouble- some and obnoxious Archbishops. The Pope had already translated the dangerous Neville, Archbishop of York, to tlie Scotch Archiepiscopate of St. Andrew's. Arundel had been tempted to accept the so vacated see of York. His turn came. The Pope, Boniface IX., at the urgent request of King Kichard, commanded the translation of the rebel- lious and exiled Arundel (now Primate of England) to the same remote dignity. He was declared Archbishop of St. Andrew's. All the time, too, the Scots repudiated the intruded English Prelates. It was the time of the great schism, and Scotland was ' in obedience ' to another Pope. Roger de Walden had held many ecclesiastical dignities — prebends at Salisbury, Exeter, St. Paul's. He was Arch- deacon of Winchester. He was loaded, too, with civil honours. He was treasurer of Calais, secretary to King Eichard, Lord High Treasurer. He was nominated by the Pope Archbishop of Canterbury. Of his consecration and his acts the records are lost. On the return of Arundel, Walden's register was destroyed, yet he is asserted to have been enthroned (March 25, 1398), to have summoned a convocation, to have promulgated Constitutions. After the landing of Henry Bolingbroke at Ravenspurg, Arundel appeared in London ; and, when Henry ascended the throne, he resumed the uncontested primacy. The obse- quious Pope declared his translation to St. Andrew's null and void. Roger de Walden quietly submitted to his fate. It was not till five years after, spent in unmolested obscu- rity, that the accommodating or prudent ex-Primate was rewarded, on the death of De Braybroke, with the bishopric of London. He enjoyed his honours only for two years : he died in 1406, and was buried, not in the Cathedral like most of his predecessors, but in St. Bartholomew's. The Archbishop gave orders for masses to be sung for the pious Prelate, ' not haughty in prosperity, patient in adversity.' A. D. 1406. The obscure name of Nicolas Bubwith Ilob^rt CMorb. 151 follows Roger de Walden. Bubwith had filled high civil offices — Master of the Rolls, Privy Seal. When he was elected Bishop of London he was Lord High Treasurer. Nicolas was Bishop of London hardly a year, 1406-1407. He then, which seems unusual, exchanged London for Salisbury. A.D. 1407. To the ignoble name of Bubwith succeeded the noble name of Oliiford. Robert Clifpoed was trans- lated, A.D. 1407, from Worcester to London. The great distinction of Bishop Clifford was that he appeared as the Representative of the English Church at the Council of Constance, a.d. 1416. Clifibrd could not aspire to the influence of the noble English prelate, Robert Hallam of Salisbury. Hallam died September 4, 1417. Clifford is said to have been the first to render homage to Pope Martin V., and may be supposed, therefore, to have had some share in the election of that determined and sagacious Pope, who brought Western Christendom again to the feet of the Roman Pontiff. Clifford introduced the use of Sarum, instead of the old use of St. Paul's, into the services of the Cathedral, but not without resistance. Bishop Clifford died August 20, 1421, the year before the accession of Henry VI. A.D. 1422. On the death of Clifford, the Canons, law- fully assembled by tlie royal license, chose for their Bishop Thomas Polton, Bishop of Hereford. The new Pope, Martin V., who watched the ecclesiastical affairs of Eng- land with especial vigilance, as far too independent and refractory to Papal jurisdiction, named, by his assumed right of provision, John Kemp, Bishop of Chichester, to that dignity. The claim seems not to have been resisted. The appointment was in every way acceptable to the King's Counsellors. John Kemp was inaugurated Bishop of liondon; Thomas of Hereford was promoted to Chichester. By this time the Bishop of London had become, almost by usage, one of the chief Ministers of State ; the Bishop was merged in the Chancellor, Treasurer, or some other high 152 ^t. ^mU. office. The year after his appointment Kemp crossed the sea as one of the Council of the Regent, Duke of Bedford, now administering the conquests of Henry V. In 1426 Kemp was Lord Chancellor, and held the chancellorship till 1432. He had in the meantime been advanced to York. The Canons of York were less obsequious to the Pope than the Canons of St. Paul's. The Pope refused his Bull to Kemp as Archbishop. The Canons, supported by the Royal authority, treated the Papal revocation with contempt. The Pope yielded, but with ill grace. (See York.) A.D. 1426. William Gkay was appointed, on Kemp's translation, by Papal provision, Bishop of London. After four years Gray was translated (a.d. 1431) to Lincoln, then a richer see than London. (See Lincoln.) A.D. 1431. Robert Fitz Hugh, Bishop in succession to Gray, was of noble lineage. He had been Chancellor of the University of Cambridge. In that office he delivered a speech in Convocation much admired for its Latinity, and obtained a decree that some of the richer benefices in England should be assigned to scholars in either University. Fitz Hugh had been the King's ambassador at Venice. As Bishop of London he was chosen delegate of England to the Council of Basle. Soon after his return he was named as their Bishop by the monks of Ely. It was, it should seem, no descent from London to Ely, as it was not from London to Lincoln. He died, however, before his trans- lation. A.D. 1436. The obscure name of Robert Gilbert follows — obscure in our days, though renowned in his own. Gilbert was appointed by the University of Oxford to examine the suspected writings of "Wycliffe; and by the Pope, Conservator of the liberties of the University against the encroachments of the Archbishop of Canterbury. Bishop Gilbert appears, unlike most of his predecessors, to have held none of the high offices of state. He was Bishop for twelve years, A.D. i4o6-1448. f^0mag ^^mpr. 153 A.D. 1450. The long episcopate of Thomas Kemp, nepliew of Jolin Kemp, promoted to York, lasted for thirty- nine years (a.d. 1450-1489). It comprehended the whole period of the "Wars of the Roses, and continued to the fourth year after the accession of Henry VII. The turbulent com- mencement of Kemp's prelacy did not presage so length- ened, and, in its latter part, such peaceable possession of the see. Kemp's accession to the Bishopric had something of the violence and intrigue, more of the irregularity, of those darkening days. Bishop Gilbert, from age or infir- mity, for the last two years of his life, gave hope of a speedy vacancy by resignation or death. The dominant minister of the minister-governed King obtained from the Pope, Nicholas V., a Provision securing the succession in either case to Thomas Kemp. But the Duke of SuiFolk became all-powerful at Court; the royal favour veered. Attempts were made at Rome to supersede the former Provision, and obtain a second witb the nomination of the Bishop of Carlisle. The Pope refused to change with the vacillating politics of the Court. On the death of Gilbert, Kemp laid claim to the see. His claim was not admitted ; his consecration was delayed ; and his temporalities re- mained in the hands of the King. Kemp held the empty title. A petition was presented from the Lower House of Parliament to exclude during their lives from the presence of the King, and to forbid the approach nearer than twelve miles from the King's Court, of Edward, Duke of Somerset, the Bishop of London, and others of evil fame. In the next year, however (1449-1450), Kemp was consecrated; his temporalities were restored. Throughout all those terrible and disastrous times — the civil wars, the reigns of Henry VI., Edward IV., Edward V., Richard HI. — Thomas Kemp held the Bishopric of London. How far he sanctioned by his presence or by his tacit conni- vance the oaths taken in his church only to be broken, the hollow attempts at reconciliation, the acceptance of the strongest as the lawful King, the exposure in his church of 154 ^t lauFs. the bodies slain in battle, by public execution or by murder ; how far he retired behind the more authoritative primate, there is no distinct record. We hardly know whether he was Yorldst or Lancastrian, or whether he lived aloof at his quiet palace of Fulham, mourning in Christian sorrow over crimes and miseries which he had no power to pre- vent, and, in prudent regard for his own safety and dignity, declining to commit himself openly to either cause. That he had given no unpardonable oifence to the House of York appears from a singular document. The Pope had made a demand of more than 40,000 ducats, alleged to be due from the Bishop, no doubt as treasurer of the Papal revenues from England, although agents from the Pope himself acknowledged that nothing was due. This was during the Pontificate of Pius II. King Edward IV. interfered with the new Pope, Paul II., to stop proceedings so unjust and vexatious against the Bishop. But the civil wars, it should seem, did not interfere with the revenues of the bishopric, which accumulated during Kemp's episcopate to a vast amount ; and Thomas Kemp was a magnificent and munificent prelate, who knew how to spend those treasures. St. Paul's Cross, which he rebuilt, was for a long time, from its imposing grandeur and consummate gracefulness, one of the chief ornaments of the City of London. It became its position, and during two centuries was the pulpit from which the preachers of each successive generation addressed not only the citizens of London, but the chief dignitaries of the State and of the Court. Kings sometimes sate at its foot. It was destroyed at length by Puritan fanaticism, which would not endure its form. But Kemp's generosity did not confine itself to his own Cathedral. The beautiful Divinity School at Oxford was built at his cost 5 and we must give him credit, not merely for his munificence, but, to a certain extent, for the exquisite grace of the archi- tecture of that admirable edifice. A.D. 1489. After the long episcopate of Thomas Kemp 'gul^m'a Jii^lames. €nt^hxt Cwnslall 155 followed a rapid line of prelates mostly undistinguislied, and who passed over the throne of London to higher places. Of these the first was Richakd Hill. A.D. 1496. Thomas Savage, translated to York, 1500. (See York.) A.D. 1502. William "Waeham only alighted on London on his way to Canterbury. He was appointed Bishop by Papal provision, October 1501, was consecrated not before 1502^ and was translated to Canterbury, 1503. (See Can- terbury.) A.D. 1504. William Baeons (or Barnes) was Bishop hardly more than ten months. A.D. 1506. Richard FitzJames, translated from Chichester. He had previously been Warden of Merton and Vice-Chancellor of Oxford. Richard FitzJames is extolled by some chroniclers as a man of theological learning and even goodness. He appears to have been one of those high-born Churchmen, piously ignorant and con- scientiously blind, with whom a hair's breadth deviation from established usage and opinion is insolence, sin, worse than sin — heresy. He had no sympathy with his Dean, Colet, whose greatness and goodness he had neither the will nor the power to comprehend. If wrongly suspected of ignorance of the letter, he certainly was ignorant of the spirit of the Bible. In one year he compelled twenty-three Lollards to abjure ; two at least he had burned in Smith- field. A still darker act which took place in the Lollard's Tower, the Bishop of London's private prison at the south- west corner of the cathedral, justly or unjustly clouded the memory of Bishop FitzJames. He died January 15, 1522. A.D. 1522. Ctjthbert Tunstall held the episcopate of London rather more than seven years ; then this kind, gentle, and blameless prelate, as the threatening clouds of the Reformation began to lower, withdrew, as if in te^rror of the, to him, uncongenial times, to remote and safer Durham (a.d. 1530). (See Durham.^ 156 Bt. lattl's. [But if the Bishops of London were mostly men obscure to us, though perhaps of fame in their own days for learn- ing and piety, there appears at this juncture, as Dean of St. Paul's, one of the most remarkable and admirable men who have held dignity in the Church of England, assuredly in the church of St. Paul's. John Colet is by some only vaguely known as the inti- mate and bosom friend of Erasmus, yet to have been the intimate friend of Erasmus implies a knowledge and love of letters, a high amount of learning, views of religion of a purer character, a prophetic presentiment of the great change preparing in Christendom, with a wise prevision of the best means of making that change with as little con- vulsion as might be, by a slower, perhaps, but less violent disruption. Whether the more peaceful revolution was possible may be doubted ^ but to have foreseen the inevitable necessity of a revolution, and to have attempted to mitigate, the terrible shock, was the part of a wise Churchman, of an exemplary Christian. John Colet was the son of a wealthy London merchant, who had been at least twdce Lord Mayor — in those days a very high distinction — the sole survivor of twenty-two children, the premature death of all of whom, while it centred the whole riches of his father on himself, gave, as it naturally would, a profoundly serious and religious cast to his mind. Colet early determined to devote him- self, but not in a monastic spirit, to the service of Christ's religion, casting aside the golden visions, which might well float before his mind, of vast wealth, of high and distin- guished eminence in the state, and in the royal favour. He was sent young, doubtless with ample means, to Oxford. He was then two or three years on his travels in France and Italy. During his travels he pursued his studies. Already in Oxford he seems to have been well read in Cicero, Plato, Plotinus. Abroad, in the full tide of the classical revival, he gave himself up entirely to the study of the Holy Scriptures and of the early Fathers, I ^mx Cold. 157 3''et, with unusual originality, he hroke loose from the ex- clusive reverence for Augustine which prevailed in Latin Christendom, and was deep in Origen and Jerome. Scotus, and even Aquinas, he almost dared to despise. A late writer thinks it possible that in Florence Oolet may have fallen under the spell of Savonarola in his best days, when the Italian was yet only the appalling preacher against the sins — the sins of the highest and the lowest — the apostle of pure Christian faith and love — before he became the wild prophet and the religious demagogue. There is no proof, however, that Oolet was at Florence ; and, notwith- standing some curious coincidences, the theology of Savona- rola and of Colet stood as far asunder as those of a monk — an impassioned monk, an Italian visionary monk, a fervent mediaeval Catholic — from that of a calm, sober, reasoning, reforming divine, who centred his whole soul on the plain and simple verities of the Gospel. If they both believed in grace and love as the primary, the ultimate elements of Christianity, grace and love wrought according to the conceptions of each in a very different manner. Colet returned to Oxford to pursue his studies with maturer mind. He must have been towards thirty years old, but as yet only in subdeacon's orders. He held, notwithstand- ing, a li\ing in Suffolk, and prebends in Salisbury, York, and St. Martin-le-Grand. The duties of these benefices, as far as we know, lay as lightly on him as on others ; in those days such things touched not the most tender conscience. He began his career, to the astonishment of the University, with public and gratuitous lectures on the writings of St. Paul; he had yet no degree in theology. These lectures startled the stagnant thought of the University. They were strikingly, to some, no doubt, alarmingly, new. The lecturer had no logical subtleties, no playing on the various senses in which the text, slavishly adhered to, might be interpreted. He sought only the plain sense of the Apostle's writings, and his consecutive argument, so far as it was consecutive — for Colet had already observed the 158 ^1. laul's. abrupt and "boldly transitional Pauline style. It was tlie religion of St. Paul expanded in all its grave and solemn simplicity. But the more the veil is withdrawn from the mind and character of Colet, the more does he stand out as beyond his age. Besides these lectures on St. Paul, cer- tain lectures on the Book of Genesis have been unearthed among the treasures of the Cambridge Library. If on St. Paul, Colet rigidly adhered, not to the letter (he was far beyond the notion of plenary verbal inspiration) but to the sense of the Apostle, we find him in a far more free spirit treating the first chapter of Genesis as a noble poem, de- signed by its author, Moses, to impress upon a rude and barbarous people the great truths of the creation of the world by one Omnific God. The description of the succes- sive acts of creation is followed out with singular in- genuity; and these and the periods of time have in his view a profound religious scope, but in themselves are only pious fictions to commend the great internal truths. It is curious also to see the progress of the critical faculty in Colet. He was at one time greatly enamoured of the pseudo-Dionysiac writings, of their lofty piety and imaginative splendour; but ere long discovered and pro- claimed their spuriousness. It was in Oxford that the lifelong friendship of Colet and Erasmus began. Erasmus was now admitted into that choice society which had gathered in the University around Colet — Charnock, head of the College of St. Mary the Virgin ; Grocyn, who first taught Greek at Oxford ; Linacre ; and last, but not least, the young Thomas More, the future famous Chancellor. But Colet was now the teacher, Erasmus the scholar. Colet had to wean Erasmus from his lingering respect for the Scholastic logic, and his reverence for the greatest of the schoolmen, Aquinas. In 1505 (nine years had passed in Oxford), Colet was summoned to the high dignity of Dean of St. Paul's. His father's exalted position in the City, and Colet's occasional presence there — for he held the great surburban living of €ahi n^ a '^xtul^tx. 159 Stepney, the parisli in which his father usually resided (he resigned this when Dean of St. PauFs) — may have directed attention to his peculiar qualifications for this otfice. He now took the degree of Doctor in Divinity. As Dean of St. Paul's Oolet was pre-eminent among the Churchmen of his day. With few, if any, of the common infirmities, he had all the virtues of his order : unimpeach- able blamelessness of life, generous hospitality, not indis- criminate though profuse, but delighting in a narrow circle, intellectual as well as religious, in which, according to the fashion of the day, theological readings mingled with the cheerful banquet. Those without his pale of course taunted him as niggardly and covetous, prodigal as he was of the emoluments of his office. These were before long to be augmented by the great wealth of his father, which he entirely devoted to objects of public advantage and to charity. Oolet rapidly worked a complete change, not in the ceremonial or ordinary services of the Cathedral, but as introducing a new system of religious instruction. For the first time the pulpit of the Cathedral, or that of Paul's Cross, freely opened the Sacred Scriptures to the people. Colet himself preached regularly on every Sunday and holiday, and obtained the aid of the most learned and eloquent preachers of the day, like himself devoted to the study of the sacred writings and their practical application. He adhered to his famous axiom, ' Keep to the Bible and the Apostles' Creed, and let divines, if they like, dispute about the rest.' He founded a kind of catechetical lecture for the young, in English, which the Chronicler Grafton seems to notice as something altogether new. As a preacher Colet had the one great indisputable qualification — he was thoroughly in earnest. He was so possessed with the truth of his mission, that the whole man might seem to preach. It is undoubted that he was listened to by all ranks and orders with unexhausted in- terest. Thomas More considered the day when he did not hear Colet preach as a void in his life. 160 ^i lattl's. On one great occasion Colet's eloquence and intrepidity were put to the severest test. A Convocation was sum- moned at St. Paul's ; the Dean was ordered by the Primate to preach the sermon to the Clergy. He attempted to decline the office, perilous to a man like Colet ; he was compelled to undertake it, and hi^ dauntless courage shrunk not from the faithful discharge of his duty. No doubt there was more than the ordinary attendance of the Bishops and dignitaries of the Church. The Bishop of London, Fitz James, though jealously prescient of what was coming, could hardly, on such an occasion, not be on his throne in his own Cathedral. The sermon, delivered with firm modesty, was a calm, powerful, deliberate arraignment of the vices of the Clergy, and an earnest ex- hortation to amendment. It was on ' conformity to this wo?'ld and reformation in the neioness of mind.^ The four deadly unchristian sins denounced by the Apostle were the pride of life, the lust of the flesh, worldly occupation (the preacher dwelt especially on preferment hunting), and ex- tortionate avarice. Though couched in general terms, every sentence struck to the souls of many of his hearers. How many among them had obtained their preferment by unworthy means ! How many led their lives, spent their vast incomes, kept their hearts so as to feel no deep, no angry compunction ! How many hated themselves ! how many hated the preacher ! It was notorious that suspected Lollards crept to St. Paul's to hear the sermons of Colet. He whom Lollards willingly heard must be tainted with LoUardy ; and Colet himself as an innovator could not but be a heretic, the worse heretic because no one could define or prove his heresy. Bishop Fitz James had watched with keen jea- lousy all Colet's proceedings, and with still gathering alarm at the popularity of the Dean. The Bishop reposed in pleasant indolence at Fulham, except for an occasional persecution ; the Dean ruled paramount in St. Paul's and in the City. FitzJames beheld the foundation of Colet's School, now rising nearly within the precincts of the Cathedral, with the utmost apprehension, as a seminary- intended to imbue the city and the realm with new, and therefore dangerous, doctrines. Yet the School, from the unexampled munificence of Oolet, continued to rise. Bishop FitzJames presented to the Primate distinct charges of heresy against the Dean of St. Paul's. The wise Warham quietly put them aside without examination or trial. Oolet disdained, or was not called upon, to answer such ' foolish ' accusations ; and others more foolish, one of which seems to have been the translation of the Lord's Prayer into English for the use of his school. But an occasion soon arose of adducing more perilous charges before the tribunal of a judge, it was hoped, less calm and wise than Warham. King Henry VIII. was plunging into continental wars with all the ardour of young ambition for conquest. The King was urged and encouraged by Wolsey, whose ambition flew at higher game. Oolet from the pulpit at St. Paul's preached a bold and powerful sermon against war. His enemies hurried to the King. Oolet was said to have asserted and maintained the well-known adage, ' An unjust peace is better than the most just war.' The King sent for Oolet ; instead of rebuke or punishment, he thanked him for the good which he was doing to his people. He, the King, would teach Oolet's accusers that they should not assail him with impunity. Oolet answered that he would rather surrender his emoluments than that any should suffer on his account. But neither the war nor the troubles of Oolet about the war were at an end. On Good Friday it was Oolet's turn to preach before the King at the Ohapel Royal. The King had become more passionately warlike. Oolet preached on the victory of Ohrist. He spoke against wars waged from hate or ambi- tion. Rulers should follow the example of Ohrist rather than of Osesar or Alexander. The King again sent for Oolet ; once more not to reprimand him, but to consult him *for the ease of his conscience.' The interview was long; M 162 Bt lattl's. the courtiers (was FitzJames among them ?) watched its issue with undissembled hope. At the close the King said aloud, ' Let every one have his Doctor 5 this is the Doctor for me.' Oolet is said to have preached again, admitting the lawfulness of defensive war. Oolet preached another great sermon, not in St. Paul's "but in Westminster Abbey, at the installation of Wolsey as Lord Cardinal. Colet dwelt eloquently on the dignity and importance of the office of Cardinal. Colet was no antipapalist : the question of the King's supremacy had not arisen. He concluded with solemn admonitions against pride ; admonitions which, even from Oolet, would fall on Wolsey — on Wolsey, encircled by the whole obsequious hierarchy and peerage of England — like drops of rain on the hide of a buffalo. In his sphere, and that a most important sphere, the Cathedral of the metropolis, of London — London still growing in opulence and weight in the State — and as a dignitary in the Church of England, now preparing for the coming Reformation ; it is difficult to estimate too highly the influence of John Colet, Dean of St. Paul's. The Cathedral was thronged by all ranks, from great dignitaries of Church and State to humble artisans. The Cathedral too, at that time, as before and after, was a great mart as well as a church. The walls of the nave and the pillars were placarded with advertisements, not only on ecclesiastical matters, but, it is to be feared, of more worldly character. Men met there in multitudes, and the busy, sometimes loud, hum of business, of barter and sale, was heard ; while in the chapels, in the aisles, before the altar of the Virgin, before the High altar, masses were said, and worshippers were kneeling in devout adoration 5 it may be, while Oolet was preaching with all his power. Some, no doubt, who came to buy and sell ' remained to pray.' Oolet does not seem to have interfered to prevent this, to us unholy, profanation. We know not whether he had the will, we doubt if he had the power over his Chapter, to command the suppression of the evil. Over that Chapter he cer- tainly had not the dominant authority or control. He drew up a body of statutes for the church, rigid, but by no means austere or ascetic. But Oolet's statutes were never accepted by the Chapter, nor confirmed by the Bishop. FitzJames was not likely to force on a reluctant Chapter statutes framed by Oolet. They were then, and remained ever after, a dead letter. John Colet's name is preserved to our days by the pious memory of those who have been educated at the school which he founded in the neighbourhood of the Cathedral, and endowed with a large part of his patrimonial wealth, to the amount of 30,000^. or 40,000^. of our money. Among the amiable parts of Colet's character was fondness for children. He placed an image of the youthful Jesus as the guardian and example of his school. But Colet had wider views than the indulgence of such feelings, re- markable as they may be in one who had denied himself by hip ordination vows the luxury of the parental affec- tions, and on whose strict adherence to those vows there never was the slightest impeachment. He sought to train up generation after generation in the broad and liberal, but devout Christianity which was dawning on his mind and that of his friend Erasmus. His school was to be strictly religious, but not monastic. With the rules of the school and the studies to be pursued he took infinite pains. He was assisted by the advice of Erasmus, who, as has been said, drew up a grammar and other elementary books for the school. Colet was fortunate in his master, the once-celebrated William Lily, the model of gramma- rians. He took the greatest pains to provide a second master to act under Lily. Colet deviated in many respects from the usage of the founders of such schools. Schools attached to cathedrals were usually under the care and control of the Chapters. But Colet and his Chapter were not in harmony ; the Chapter, no doubt, like the Bishop, looked with jealousy on the new learning, with which M 2 164 ^t |a„l's. they were but slightly gifted. They had repudiated Colet's statutes. Oolet left the whole conduct of the school and its endowments to the Mercers' Company, to which his father had belonged, and of which himself by descent might claim to be a member. There are other remarkable provisions in the statutes of Colet's school. In general the founders of those schools had encumbered them with narrow and inflexible regula- tions, sure to become obsolete, as to the scholars to be admitted^ and the studies to be cultivated. In such schools there is a constant strife with the knowledge and the man- ners of succeeding ages. With a wise prescience Colet threw aside all these manacles on posterity. There is no limitation whatever, as to admission, of descent, or kin, country, or station. It is a free school in the broadest sense. Of all the multitudes who then or thereafter might flow to central, busy, metropolitan London, no children were proscribed or excluded. It is a more singular instance of prophetic sagacity, that Oolet should have anticipated the truth, so long undreamed of, that education must con- form itself to the social state, the habits, manners, wants, and progressive knowledge of the day. The studies in St. Paul's School are absolutely without statutable restrictions. They may adapt themselves, or be adapted by the wisdom of the master, to the demands of every period and stage of civilisation. And this from a man of the profound religion of Colet ! But Colet saw that the dominant religion, or rather the form of that religion, was drawing to a close, and who should determine where that change would be arrested ? Christianity would never fail ; but what was to be the Christianity of the future, John Colet presumed not to foresee. Colet was meditating retirement from his labours ; it is said, from the petty harassing persecutions of Bishop Fitz- James. His health had sufiered from more than one attack of the fatal malady of the times, the sweating sickness. The survivor of twenty-two children might well tremble Jlmn ^k^arb |aa. 165 for the precarious tenure of life. His retirement could be hardly anywhere hut to a monastery — a monastery suffi- ciently religious, hut not too monastic. This was difficult to find. Oolet chose the house of the Carthusians at Sheen, hut, before he could enter into his earthly repose, he was carried off by his obstinate enemy, the sweating sickness, at the age of fifty-three. No one who would do justice to the wisdom and the religion of Oolet will hesitate to read the famous letter of Erasmus to Justus Jonas, in which he describes, with eloquence which comes from the heart, and, as far as we can judge, with unquestionable truth, the two most perfect Christians whom the world, in his time, had seen. One of them was John Oolet, Dean of St. Paul's.] [RiCHAKD Pace, the successor of John Oolet in the Deanery of St. Paul's, is singularly connected with the great name of Wolsey. He maintained the high character of Dean of St. Paul's with very different qualifications and a very different fate from John Oolet. The authority of Erasmus avouches the accomplished scholarship of Pace, which did honour to his education at Padua and Oxford. But Pace was one of those ecclesiastics whom Oolet in his famous sermon would have excluded from such an office as Dean of St. Paul's. He was devoted to state affairs, and in those unecclesiastical employments he had attained the highest distinction. He was ambassador, in negotiations of the first importance, to the Emperor Maximilian, to the Republic of Venice, to the Swiss Republic, and to the Pope. His pub- lished despatches show a man of singular ability and sagacity. Those which remain in secret archives raise him still higher. The first public appearance of Richard Pace is in the train of Cardinal Bainbridge, King Henry's representa- tive at Rome (a.d. 1514). Cardinal Bainbridge was un- doubtedly poisoned, and by the Agency of De Giglis, an Italian, Bishop of Worcester. That Pace fully believed De Giglis guilty of the murder, his letters clearly show ; 166 ^1. |atirs. but a Bishop with so much money at his command as De Giglis could not he convicted of any crime, certainly not of one so atrocious, at Rome. It is curious (though of course Wolsey cannot himself have had any concern in the affair) that the death of Bainhridge opened the way to Wolsey's advancement. He became Archbishop of York (Bainbridge's see) ; a year after he was the English Car- dinal. This is an instance in which suspicious circum- stances do not justify suspicion. Pace was engaged in expediting the bulls of the new Cardinal, Wolsey, at Rome. On his return to England from Rome (a.d. 1515), Pace, it should seem, was ap- pointed secretary to Wolsey. He was sent, in the same year, with Sir Robert Wingfield (who became jealous of him) on an important mission to Switzerland, to detach the Swiss from the French alliance. After June 1516, he was, though still abroad, one of the King's secretaries. On his return to England he was in constant attendance on the King from January 1518, to May 1519. About May he was sent on the hopeless mission (on the death of Maximilian) of securing the Imperial crown for Henry of England against the two formidable rivals, Charles V. and Francis I. He returned in July, and on October 25, 1519, he became Dean of St. Paul's. In April 1520, Pace received a pension of 10/. yearly for a lecture in Greek, to be read and taught in the Univer- sity of Cambridge. In June 1520, he was with the King at the field of the Cloth of Gold, and delivered a Latin sermon on the blessings of peace. In this year he writes to Wolsey, as a friend, that he is ill, and almost out of his mind, from want of sleep and appetite. In the same year he writes many letters on the King's book against Luther. In December 1521, on the death of Leo X., Pace is sent to Rome by the King (in sending Pace the King * sends his very heart '), to win the Papacy for Wolsey. His interest, as well as his fidelity, were the guarantees for ^tm ^ate hx |talg. 167 the zealous discharge of these duties. It was thought that, if Wolsey hecame Pope, Pace would take the place of Wolsey in the King's Councils. But Spanish gold and Spanish intrigue were too rapid in their operation. Pace arrived too late. Adrian VI. was Pope ; but it is clear that Wolsey neither had nor imagined any cause of dis- satisfaction with Pace. In August 1522, Pace was ordered from Rome to Venice — Venice, then almost the centre of European politics, in which of all places was required an adroit, clear-sighted, popular ambassador. But the Papacy was again vacant (Adrian died September 14, 1523). Pace must return to Rome, though the chief care of Wolsey s interests was entrusted to Clerk, Bishop of Bath. Clerk and Pace, however, were alike unequal to cope with the Italian interest, or the wiles of a De Medici. Clement VII. became Pope. Still there is no displeasure on the part of Wolsey ; benefices were accumulated on Pace, and Wolsey wrote to Pace to obtain an extension of his Legatine powers. About February 28, 1524, Pace returns homewards as far as Mechlin, and is then ordered to return to Italy and attach himself to Bourbon's army. During 1525 he is in Venice, to secure the wavering republic in the Imperial interests. He is busily employed in negotiating money for the Imperial army. But the malady which had afiected him previously in Germany, returned. In October 1525, the Doge himself writes to England urging his recall. The return to his native land was the only hope of restoring his health. As yet there is no hint of the more fatal malady which assailed his mind. But on August 21, 1526, coadjutors are ap- pointed to administer the affairs of ' such Deaneries ' as Mr. Pace hath, St. Paul's and Exeter. He took up, how- ever, his residence at the Deanery of St. Paul's, from which he wrote letters. There seem to have been doubtful glimpses of recovery. In 1527 he removes to Sion, from whence he wrote letters to his foster-brother, John Pace, which confute all notion of ill-usage by Wolsey. 168 ^t. laul's. In 1528 there is a sad description of his state, in a letter from Skeffington, Bishop of Bangor, to Wolsey, and in 1529 Outhbert Tunstall appoints Sampson the coadjutor of Richard Pace, then, as before, afflicted by imbecility, or rather alienation of mind. The tale becomes more dismal and more obscure. It has been supposed that Pace died in 1532, and that the Deanery of St. Paul's was vacant four years. It is mani- fest that Pace lived till 15.36, and during these years met with cruel usage from some one ' who had called himself his friend, but was his enemy.' Was this Gardiner then Secretary to the King ? Who could it be but Gardiner ? The letter in which these words are read w'as addressed by the friend of Pace (Wakefielde) to Sir Thomas Boleyn, Earl of Wiltshire. It speaks of our Queen Anne (Anne was crowned June 1, 1533). Wakefield's letter was probably written in 1534 or 1535: and this letter pro- fesses to enclose one addressed to the King by Richard Pace, ' who, like myself,' adds the writer, ' has been treated unworthily, ungratefully, and unjustly, by his friend and mine, or rather by our common enemy.' For ' he forcibly ejected him from his own house in a state of poverty, and did not allow him to remain there ; he who not only deserved so well of him, but of all scholars. He was the glory of Englishmen.' Alas ! the doleful close to the life of a man, the rival, the designated successor of Wolsey, the friend of Erasmus, patronised, honoured, beloved in every court and state of Europe as the wisest ambassador of England, now, as Dean of St. Paul's, cast out of his deanery in destitution, with the ' scholar's mind all over- thrown,' to die no one knows where.] A.D. 1530. John Stokesley was consecrated Bishop of London, November 27, 1530. He is described by the chronicler as a man ' of great wit and learning, but of little discretion and humanity, which caused him to be out of favour with the common people.' Bishop Stokesley sum- moned his clergy generally to meet him in the Chapter ^loKesIfg. 169 House on 1st SeptemW 1631, in order to assess and raise in his diocese its share of the heavy tax imposed "by the King upon the clergy in commutation of the penalty of Prsemimire incurred by the whole Church for submitting to the Legatine authority assumed and exercised by Car- dinal Wolsey, in direct defiance of the Statute of Provisors. To the dismay of the Bishop, he heard that the whole clergy, at least 600, of all ranks and orders, were thronging at the doors of the Chapter House, backed by a great multitude of people. The doors were forced, and a scene of wild tumult ensued.^ In 1534, after the abrogation of the Pope's supremacy, care was taken to secure the pulpit of Paul's Cross in favour of the Royal supremacy, and the Bishop of London was ordered ' to suffer none to preach at Paul's Cross, as he will answer, but such as will preach and set forth the same.' Bishop Stokesley was not the man, from character or from his present avowed opinions, to resist the royal mandate. On this subject he had no reason to apprehend opposi- tion from the Dean and Chapter. Over Paul's Cross, no doubt, his authority was supreme. An instrument is ex- tant in which the Dean and Chapter, seemingly with en- tire unanimity, declare their obedience to King Henry, to Anne his wife, and to their offspring. They assert the King to be the head of the Church of England, and that the Bishop of Rome has no more authority than any other foreign Bishop. The document is largely signed by the Dean and Subdean, the Cardinals, four Canons Residentiary, and others. Bishop Stokesley, though firm in his own heresy, or what would have been held by most Churchmen, but few years before, heinous heresy, had little mercy on other heretics. He had burned two Lollards, and forced recan- tation from many more. We must not, however, lay to his especial charge a sad spectacle in the Cathedral. In 1535 twenty-four Dutch (German) Anabaptists, five of them ^ Annals, p. 190. , ; 170 ^t laul's. women, were examined in the Cathedral ; fourteen were con- demned ; a man and a woman were sent to be burned in Smithfield ; twelve were despatched to other towns to be sacrificed as an example. To the fate of these poor wretches, the hearts of Papalists and Antipapalists, of Catholics and Protestants, were sternly sealed. It may be doubted whether in all London, or even in all England, there was a murmur of compassion. Anabaptists were the Ish- maelites of the religious world, against whom was every man's hand, and unhappily whose hand, in Germany, had been against every man. The memory of Munster and of John of Leyden pursued them wherever they went. Blameless as some of them may have been — poor ignorant fanatics, they were proscribed by universal abhorrence not only as heretics but as lawless socialists. Stokesley had other victims not so entirely without the pale of human sympathy. One of the worst cases, we fear not the worst, of his relentless rigour, was the persecution of Thomas Phillips, a citizen of London, for heresy. A worse than this worst case was that of James Bainham. Frightened by the cold, stern demeanour of Stokesley, Bainham recanted. The next day he recanted his recantation. He was taken to the Bishop of London's coal cellar at Fulham, the favourite episcopal prison chamber. There he was ironed, put in the stocks, and left for many days in the chill March weather. Bainham, after repeated whippings, was burned in Smithfield. Stokesley flew at higher game. He had a strong desire to burn Latimer."^ Stokesley inust have been still Bishop of London in 1539. An English nobleman writes of him in that year as an honest and well-learned man, who defended the Six Articles against ^my Lord of Canterbury' (Cranmer), *my Lord of Ely,' and other Bishops."^ It was the last utterance of Stokesley. In a few weeks he was in his " For Bishop Latimer's sermons in St. Paul's, see Annals, p. 197.. '§anntx. 171 grave ; lie died in September, and was buried in his Cathedral. A.D. 1540. On the 20th October 1539, the 'quire' of St. Paul's, with their Dean, the Bishop of Chichester, elected as their Bishop Edmund Bonnek, Bishop of Here- ford, then beyond the seas. Edmund Bonner was of obscure, according to his enemies (and bitter enemies he had, nor can it be wondered that he had), of spurious birth, the son of a priest. His fame at Oxford obtained for him the favour of Wolsey, by whom he was employed as a Commissary, and rewarded by many benefices. From the service of Wolsey, to whom he ad- hered till the Cardinal's death, he passed into that of the King ; he was retained as a canon lawyer of great know- ledge and experience ; he was attached to the RcHnan em- bassy, sent to forward the divorce at the Papal Court. On the divorce he took so determined a tone as to sound like insolence to the Court of the Pope. It is said on one occasion that Clement was so enraged as to threaten to boil him in lead. It is certain that King Henry wrote to reassure the courage of his faithful agent. Notwithstanding this, Bonner travelled with the Pope in wild weather from Rome to Bologna. Bonner afterwards followed the Pope to Marseilles, and forced himself into Clement's presence. In 1538 Bonner was despatched on an important and special mission to the Emperor, at Nice. Of his private conduct at Nice, not quite becoming a priest and future Bishop of London, a dark account was given, it should seem, in his presence, by Sir Thomas Wyatt. Wyatt, on his trial for high treason, had, no doubt, special hostility to Bonner, but it was a public trial, and the charge publicly made. Before his return from Nice, in the same year, Bon- ner's nomination to the bishopric of Hereford was announced. He had scarcely been promoted to London, when the great reaction took place. Cromwell was arrested at the Council table, and sent to the tower. The attainder and execution of the great Keforming Minister followed July 28, 1540. 172 m, lattl's. The dissolution of the monasteries, Cromwell's great act, touclied not St. Paul's. The Dean and Chapter of secular Canons remained in undisturbed possession of their estates. Richard Sampson, Bishop of Chichester (the first instance, by no means the last, of the deanery being held with a bishopric), was Dean. On the accession of Bonner to the bishopric, Sampson, subsequently having fallen out of the King's favour, was obliged to resign the deanery. If Stokesley with his dying breath fanned the flames kindled by the Six Articles, his more decided and powerful successor, Bonner, would help to blow them to their white heat. In his hands, it can scarcely be supposed that the * whip with six strings ' was wielded with more gentleness or mercy. At the Convocation in 1542, Archbishop Cranmer landed in his barge at Paul's Wharf, thence proceeded on foot to St. Paul's, with the Cross borne before him. 'There Bishop Bonner officiated, if I speak properly, at the Mass of the Holy Ghost.' "* Bichard Cox, Archdeacon of Ely, preached on ' Vos estis sal terrse.' But it was not at the altar of St. Paul's alone that Cranmer and Bonner met in seeming amity. They were engaged in a common work. It had become of acknowledged necessity * to address to the bewildered people ' short homilies to explain and en- force the principal uncontested Christian doctrines and duties. We are not surprised that the congenial subject, * Exhortation to the Reading of Holy Scripture,' should be assumed by the Primate Cranmer. It is startling, however, to find 'Charity' assigned to or undertaken by Bonner. Yet, in the first Book of our Homilies, that on 'Charity' was without doubt written by the Bishop of London. On the commonplace of this crowning Christian virtue the homily is simple, clear, forcible. But with a prudent or prescient reserve, Bonner excludes from the pale of charity the evil-doer. Him he surrenders to the inexorable justice of the magistrate. And of course, n Fuller, vol. iii. p. 196. (Kitglisfe ^txbia m ^t |a«ra. 173 though not stated, the worst and most dangerous 'evil- doer ' is the heretic. Hardly had Edward VI. been proclaimed King, when Paul's Cross gave signs of the coming change. Edward ascended the throne on January 28, 1547, and on April 1 the English service was heard in the King's Chapel, not yet in the Cathedral. In September appeared in St. Paul's the commissioners for the execution of the edict of the Council which com- manded the destruction of images in churches, forbade processions, and ordained the discontinuance of all customs held to be superstitious, not in the Cathedral only, but in all the precincts. The images were pulled down, the work of demolition began. On February 14, 1548, the Litany was chanted in English, between the choir and the nave, the singers being half on one side, half on the other ; the Epistle and Gospel were read in English. The Dean, William May, sanctioned these proceedings with his pre- sence. John Incent had succeeded Sampson in 1540 ; on Incent's death, in 1545, William May became Dean of St. Paul's, a man, it should seem, of the more advanced prin- ciples of the Reformation. Bishop Bonner had received the injunctions of the Council under protest ; he had been committed to the Fleet for his contumacy ; he made a submission humble enough to be accepted by the Govern- ment, and was released, after an imprisonment of eight days. In his absence these changes were made ; greater changes were to come. After Easter, by command of the Dean, William May, the English service began regularly. Bishop Bonner, it would seem, stood aloof. He had submitted on somewhat ignominious terms, but he had submitted. He no doubt remained in quiet seclusion at Fulham, not interfering with the changes or with the disgraceful scenes, or even the sacrilegious violation of the buildings of his Cathedral. On the 24th June, 1549, he received a letter from the Council. After hearty commendations, 'Having very 174 m, |a«rs. credible notice tliat within your Cathedral Cliurcli there he as yet the Apostles' Mass and Our Lady's Mass, and other masses of such peculiar names. . . . used in private chapels and other remote places of the same, and not in the chancel, contrary to the King's Majesty's proceedings, the same heing, for the misuse, displeasing to God ; for the place, Paul's, in example not tolerable ; for the fondness of the name a scorn to the reverence of the Communion of the Lord's body and blood ;' the Council, ' for the augmenta- tion of God's honour and glory,' absolutely interdict these oifences, and lay dovs^n rules for the celebration of the Holy Communion, only to be celebrated at the high altar. The decree is signed by Somerset, Rich, the Chancellor, and four others of the Council. Bonner quietly trans- mitted the letter, which he had just received by a pm'sui- vant, to the Dean and Chapter, with a letter from himself, recommending it to their attention. On A-ugust 17, Bishop Bonner appeared in the Cathe- dral, and officiated (it must be presumed) according to the new usage, ' discreetly and sadly.' But such rare and reluctant acts of conformity did not allay the suspicions, or arrest the violence of Bonner's enemies. He must be deposed. It would be dangerous and embarrassing to leave a man of his ability, resolution, and subtlety in a place of so much influence and authority. Bonner was summoned before the Council. Severe animadversions were made on his unfrequent attendance at the services of the Cathedral, in which he had heretofore officiated with zealous regularity. He was accused of appearing stealthily at foreign masses and still unreformed ceremonials. He was ordered to reside in his palace near St. Paul's, to discharge all the duties of his function, especially to officiate in the Cathedral on every high festival, and to administer the Communion ; of course in the new form. He was to pro- ceed against all who did not frequent Common Prayer and receive the Sacrament, and against those who went to mass. Beyond all this, he was commanded to preach on subjects, ^axxmx ^tpszb, 175 cliosen with malicious iDgenuity, if possible, to implicate him in at least a tacit approval of the late rehellion, and make him assert those doctrines which he was known, in his heart and conscience, to repudiate. He was to declare the heinousness of wilful rebellion as incurring eternal damnation, especially the guilt of the western insurgents, who were to have their portion with Lucifer, the father and first author of disobe- dience, * whatever masses and holy water soever they went about to pretend.' He was to urge the awful examples of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, and that of Saul, rejected be- cause he spared the sheep for sacrifice, and thereby betrayed his disobedience to God. He was to aver that vital religion consisted only in prayer to God, that rites and ceremonies might be altered at the command of the magistrate ; there- fore if any man persisted in the Latin service, his devotion was valueless on account of his disobedience. On September 1, Bonner ascended the pulpit at Paul's Cross, with a vast assemblage at his feet. He touched on the chief points contained in the instructions. But his watch- ful enemies observed that he eluded one, which was held to be the test of Popish and disloyal sentiments — that the King was to be as implicitly obeyed as being no less King, when a minor, and not of full age. In one word, he should have acknowledged distinctly and deliberately the Royal autho- rity of the Council. The rest of his sermon was on the corporal presence in the Eucharist. He asserted Transub- stantiation in the strongest terms, with many sharp asper- sions on those who held the opposite doctrine. Bonner could hardly expect a favourable result. He was committed to the Tower, and remained a prisoner till the close of the reign. The see of London was declared vacant. The degradation of Bonner is described with his usual simplicity, and latent significance, by the Grey Friar : ' On the 1st day of October the Bishop of London was sent for at afternoon to Lambeth, and then the Archbishop of Can- terbury discharged the said Bishop of London, as much as lay in his power. ^ 176 m. lattl's. A.D. 1550. It was not till April of the following year (1550), that the new Bishop of London, Nicholas Eidley, Bishop of Rochester, was installed in the Cathedral. Bishop Ridley's first act was ominous of his future proceedings. Be- fore he would enter the choir, he commanded the lights on the altar to be extinguished. Ridley was a man of the highest character for erudition and blamelessness of life. He had been head of Pembroke Hall, in Cambridge, and had retired to Germany. Soon after the accession of Edward VI., he had been appointed Bishop of Rochester. The only act of Ridley's which up to this time we would repudiate — his concern in the burning of crazy Joan Bocher — in those days raised rather than lowered him in general estimation. Ridley was unmarried. There are some pleasing anecdotes of the courtesy and amenity of his domestic life. The relations of Bishop Bonner, his mother and sister, continued to reside at Fulham. They were constant and welcome guests at Ridley's hospitable table. The place of honour was always reserved for ^ our mother, Bonner.' But now the work of Reformation, or as sonae even in our own day, looking on it in a point of view then impos- siblo, would call it, deformation and spoliation, went on with rapidity. The Dean, William May, officiated con- stantly during all the changes. The holidays, so frequent in old times, were either abolished or fell into disuse, the Cathedral setting the ex- ample. Yet every afternoon, on the holidays still observed, Bishop Ridley preached. On September 3rd came directions from the Dean, William May, who was at a Visitation of the Archbishop at Cambridge, to discontinue the organ. On October 25 there was a general demolition of the altars and chapels throughout the church; and it should seem of the tombs, such at least as were shrines for public worship. All the goodly stonework behind the high altar, with the seats for the priests, the Dean, and the Sub-Dean, were re- morselessly cut and hacked away. An order from the U,t filurgg. 177 Court alone saved the magnificent monument of Jolm of Gaunt, the only royal tomb, excepting those of one or two of the doubtful Saxon kings, in the Cathedral." What be- came of St. Erkenwald? On AUhallows Day began the book of the new service at St. Paul's, the beautiful liturgy which had gradually grown into its present form, and was now, if not absolutely, nearly complete. That liturgy has ever since, for above three centuries — with one brief and immediate interruption, another at a later period — been read in all our churches : that liturgy, with some few imperfections (and what human composition is without imperfections ?), the best model of pure, fervent, simple devotion, the distillation, as it were, and concentration of all the orisons which have been uttered in the name of Christ, since the first days of the Gospel : that liturgy which is the great example of pure vernacular English, familiar, yet always unvulgar, of which but few words and phrases have become obsolete ; which has an in- dwelling music which enthrals and never palls upon the ear, with the full living expression of every great Christian truth, yet rarely hardening into stern dogmatism ; satisfying every need, and awakening and answering every Christian emotion ; entering into the heart, and, as it were, welling forth again from the heart ; the full and general voice of the congregation, yet the peculiar utterance of each single worshipper. From this time our Church ceased to speak in a language ' not understanded ' of the people, our English fully asserting its powers of expressing in its own words the most profound and awful verities of our religion, the most ardent aspirations of the soul to communion with the unseen. On this memorable day, the Bishop, Ridley, read the prayers and preached in the choir, it was observed, with no vestment but the rochet ; the Priests, the Dean, and the Prebendaries wore their surplices and university caps and hoods. The Bishop preached in the afternoon at Paul's " Chronicle of the Grey Friar of London (edited for the Camden Society), p. 75. N I 178 St. Jatrl's. Cross. But the time for delight in interminable sermons was not come. The Mayor and Aldermen, weary of long standing, then usual, even with those dignitaries, at Paul's Cross, quietly stole away — it was near five o'clock (the sei'- mon can hardly have begun later than three) — and did not enter the Church again. The vestments, and other ornaments of the old splendid ceremonial, were too rich a prey to escape the rapacious Go- vernment. On the 25th of May (1553) came the Commis- sioners, with the Lord Chief Justice and the Lord Mayor, to make the last remorseless sweep of these riches, and seized to the King's use all the treasures of the Church, even the plate, leaving but a scanty stock of less precious vessels for the simpler services. Bishop Ridley indeed strove, not without success, to rescue, not these treasures, but endow- ments for religious and charitable foundations, from the hands of the needy Government and the rapacious nobles. He extorted the foundation and endowment of Bridewell Hospital for the houseless poor, and threw it open to the City. To the reign of Edward VI., and in great part to the influence of Bishop Ridley, belongs the noble foundation of Christ's Hospital. Three years of Ridley's episcopate had just passed over, when came the terrible days of reaction. Mary was on the throne, Bonner was again Bishop of London. St. Paul's be- held the Mass reinstated, at least in some degree of splen- dour; the choir resounded with Latin chants — Latin became again the language of prayer. Paul's Cross rung with de- nunciations — with more than denunciations — with awful sentences of death against the Reformers. In evil hour, either from fanatic zeal for Protestantism, or a victim to the arts of the subtle Northumberland — pos- sibly from some ardent admiration for the still undeveloped, yet to those familiar witli her, the felt and acknowledged beauty and holiness of character of the Lady Jane Grey, as nearly approaching to the perfect young Christian woman as could well be imagined, and therefore a sore temptation 'giUtji. . 179 to wild hopes — Ridley threw himself desperately into the Anti-Marian faction. He preached a sermon at Paul's Cross ; he denounced both the sisters, Mary and Elizabeth, as bastards. The congregation heard him with undisguised disgust. It has been alleged in excuse for Ridley that he preached by order of the Council — an excuse which degrades him from a bold and conscientious zealot to the miserable slave and tool of a faction. His subsequent conduct did little honour to his courage, or to the sense of his dignity of station and character. He stole away to Cambridge to throw himself at the feet of the now triumphant Mary. He was received with the contempt which he deserved, was brought ignominously back to London, and committed to the Tower. Had his course ended there, had he been executed for high treason, he would hardly have commanded pity. The cold misjudging cruelty — it was no mercy — of Mary and her Councillors gave Ridley the opportunity of redeeming at Oxford those days of lamentable weakness. Instead of the disregarded death of a traitor, they gave him the glory of a martyr : and nobly did Ridley accept the gift. By his sel^ command during his long and weary trial, the calm serenity of his death, he showed an ineffaceable, inextinguishable greatness, which equalled the homely contempt of death in honest old Latimer, and contrasted strongly with the timid tergiversation of Cranmer.P A.D. 1553. One of the first acts of the new reign was, of course, the release of Bonner, who at once resumed his see as dispossessed by no lawful authority. He came forth from the IVIarshalsea in all the state of a bishop. Eleven bishops brought him to his palace at St. Paul's. There was a great concourse of the people, shouting ' Welcome home,' and as many women as could, kissed him. He knelt in prayer on the steps of the Cathedral. Were Bonner's prayers that he might have strength to forgive his enemies ? He hardly disguised his determination to wreak vengeance on p For an account of Bishop Ridley's trial and death, see Annals^ p. 245. N 2 180 ^t laui's. the usurper of his see. He spoke of Ridley with hitter contempt. On Decemher 8, my lord of London ordered a solemn procession at St. Paul's. When all was done, my lord issued his mandate that every parish church should provide a staff and cope to go in procession every Sunday, Wednes- day, and Friday, and pray unto God for fine weather through London. If, in the dark days of the Marian persecution, the character of Ridley was purified and exalted hy adversity, the native hrutality of Bonner, which had been exasperated hy his degradation and confinement, was maddened by his restoration to power and dignity, to an excess which shocked even his own party. It was nothing that he wrote insulting letters to Ridley. We may receive without suspicion some of the stories in Fox of his ungovernable rage. One day he actually struck a knight, Sir J. Jocelyn, a violent blow on the ear. The gentle Feckenham, Dean of St. Paul's, made an apology for the Bishop. 'His long imprisonment in the Marshalsea, and the miseries and hard- ships so altered him, that in these passions he is not master of himself; ' to which the knight merely replied, 'Now that he is come forth of the Marshalsea, he is ready to go to Bedlam.' Bonner had begun by issuing a monition to the Clergy of his diocese enforcing auricular confession. No one was to be admitted to the Holy Eucharist without a certificate of confession. They were to take care that the altars were prepared with books and vestments for the celebration of the mass. To Bonner were addressed the Queen's Articles, in one of which the marriage of the Clergy was inhibited, the married Clergy were commanded to dismiss their wives. This act might be fully expected. Before long, however, Bonner assumed all the stern and searching authority of an Inquisitor — a Spanish Inquisitor — not the less odious and unpopidar on account of the unpopularity of King Philip. Philip, however, it must be presumed rather from '§omxtx*B ^xtklt^ of IttquisiimiT. 181 sagacious policy than from mercifulness of temper or habit, inclined to milder measures. Not content with the rigour which he exercised in his visitation, Bonner appointed certain persons as a commission to inquire into and search out the lives and conduct of every clerk in his diocese, not only whether he was a brawler, scolder, hawker, hunter, fornicator, adulterer, drunkard, blasphemer of God and His saints, but whether he had been married ; if married and submitting to the stern law of putting away his wife, whether he kept up any clandestine intercourse with her ; whether his sermons were orthodox ; whether he associated with heretics; whether he exhorted his parishioners to go to mass and to confession. The com- missioners were to dive into the most internal secrets of the heart. No act of a clergyman, not even his dress or tonsure, not his most private moments, and hardly his thoughts, were to escape their prying vigilance. But the zeal of Bonner outstripped even the zeal of the Government. The Council interposed, as Bonner had acted without their authority. Bonner at first took a high tone of defiance ; but the city of London offered such resistance that he re- luctantly and sullenly withdrew his injunctions. Bonner, with the other Bishops, stood aloof from the Coronation of Elizabeth, January 15, 1558-9. His robes, however — and gorgeous robes they were — were borrowed to attire Oglethorpe of Carlisle, the one officiating Bishop. In the House of Lords, with Heath, Archbishop of York, and other Bishops present, Bonner protested against the Act for restoring the Royal Supremacy, and the other Acts of the same character. He still retained influence enough to carry the rejection of a Bill to make valid the leases granted by Bishop Ridley : an Act which would have con- firmed the former deposition of Bonner, and established the lawful episcopate of Ridley. On the 30th of May, Bonner, who had thus sat in the first Convocation and the first Parliament of the Teign, was again deposed. After his de- privation, with other Bishops, he sent a letter to the Queen 182 ^1. lattl's. in defence of the supremacy of Rome, remarkable for a singular argument from ecclesiastical history, in whicli the Bishops do not seem very strong. He made the great Athanasius a heretic, condemned for resisting the Head of the Church of Rome. Even in the month of the Queen's Coronation, Bonner had heen summoned to appear before the Council, with all the Commissions which he had re- ceived for the examination of heretics, and an account of the fines which he had levied on heretics. But this was as yet the only act of vengeance for his cruelties. It was not till April 1560, that he was committed to his old prison, the Marshalsea. If Strype's account is to be accepted, he seems till then to have been at liberty. His imprisonment was for his security against the popular detestation. That imprisonment ' turned to his safety, being so hated by the people, that it would not have been safe to him to have walked in public, lest he should have been stoned or knocked on the head by the enraged friends and acquaint- ance of those whom he had but a little before so barbarously beaten and butchered. He grew old in prison, and died a natural death in the year 1569, not suiFering any want or hunger or cold. For he lived daintily, had the use of his garden and orchards, when he was minded to walk abroad and take the air.' •» A.D, 1559. Edmund Geixdal was consecrated Bishop of London on December 20, 1559. He had some special claims and some peculiar qualifications for the See of London. He had been Prebendary of St. Paul's in the reign of Edward VI. He was well known as a good man and an acceptable preacher to the citizens of London, and had acquired much popularity among them. He might be expected, therefore, to rule with experience as well as judgment in that important part, at least, of his diocese. Of the Clergy who had enjoyed the highest favour with Bishop Ridley, there were three pre-eminent — Rogers, Bradford, Grindal. Rogers and Bradford had suffered at 4 Strype, vol. i. p. 58. irmbal. 183 the stake. Grindal, more prudent or less olmoxious, at all events not summoned to martyrdom, had fled the country, and found refuge, first at Strasburg, afterwards at Frank- fort. In the disputes at Frankfort, which split the Re- formers into two conflicting parties, Grindal was on the moderate side. Grindal had been among the divines ap- pointed at the beginning of the reign to dispute, as if such disputation could tend to any profitable conclusion, with the Marian Bishops. He hesitated, naturally enough, to accept the perilous dignity, the Bishopric of the metropolis. He consulted Peter Martyr, the oracle of the Reformers. There were two points to which his conscience demurred : the alienation of some of the estates on which the Queen had laid violent hands, or might hereafter seize, and the ac- ceptance of certain tithes and appropriations oftered in their stead. He feared that he was to be paid, for submitting to the plunder of the Church, by receiving a share in that plunder. Martyr's counsel was, that if he submitted to be despoiled, because the spoiler was the stronger and armed with irresistible power, he could not charge his conscience with criminal connivance. Grindal's other difficulty was about the vestments. Martyr's wise advice was that for peace' sake such light matter should be forgotten or not unduly pressed. One of Martyr's arguments was that Grindal might be of so much use to the cause of truth and religion in that eminent place, and the danger lest it should fall to the share of a worse and less trustworthy man. Grindal, it should be said, had at Frankfort maintained the duty of not dividing the Church on questions so unimportant as the surplice and the cap. But Grindal's troubles and trials began very soon. Hardly more than a month after his inauguration (Feb. 2, 1559-60), there was a serious riot in the precincts of the Cathedral. Mass was celebrated before the French Am- bassador, who then occupied the Deanery. Dean Cole was in the Tower, Dean May probably had not reassumed his mansion. A great mob gathered, doubtless stout Protes- 184 m, Imtl's. tants, and, as doubtless, haters of the French, whose recent surprise of Calais had made them more especially odious. They were proceeding to acts of insult, if not of violence. The civic authorities were summoned. ^Divers men and women were taken before the Lord Mayor, and some sent to the Counter.' March 3. Bishop Grindal preached at Paul's Cross, in his rochet and cyrnar. The Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and a great audience were present. After the sermon the people sang, perhaps Geneva-ivise, as Machyii observes on another occasion. During the first year of Grindal's episcopate died William Mav, the reinstated Dean of St. Paul's. He had been designated as Archbishop of York. He was interred in the Cathedral. Bishop Grindal, in his rochet, preached the funeral sermon. The successor of May was Alexander Nowell, a man of the highest character for piety and learning, a consummate master of the controversy with Rome. No well's Catechisms were accepted and accredited as authoritative expositions of the Anglican doctrines. Bishop Grindal sat for ten years on the episcopal throne of London. In May 1570 he moved to York, ere long to ascend higher to the Primacy at Canterbury. Everywhere he bore the character of profound piety and gentleness, a dangerous virtue in those days. His mildness and unwilling- ness to proceed harshly against the Puritans is acknowledged by their historians, not too apt to admire the virtues of bishops. (See Canterbury.) A.D. 1570. The successor of Grindal was Edwtn Sandys, Bishop of Worcester, installed July 20, 1570. Sandj'-s was still Bishop of London when the news of the Massacre of St. Bartholomew arrived in the City. The eff'ect of this appalling intelligence may be best estimated from a letter of Sandys to Lord Burleigh. He expresses his dread that this barbarous treachery may not cease in France, but will reach over even unto us ; the fear that if the league between Elizabeth and the French stand firm, there may be some risings among the citizens of London SEtlbgS. 185 for the "hreacli thereof. Ite declares himself ready, with the Dean of St. Paul's, to do all in his power to suppress such tumults. But he suggests other measures to Burleigh ; the first of these was forthwith to cut off the Queen of Scots' head. From henceforth this was the general cry with all good Protestants. They suspected, and strong grounds of suspicion were not wanting, that Mary was at the bottom of all conspiracies and all dangers. These enemies did not much disturb the peace of Sandys' episcopate in London. But there were other domestic antagonists with whom he was perpetually called upon to contend. Under Bishop Sandys, Puritanism, hardly repressed by Grindal, as Grindal's enemies asserted, encouraged by his mildness, became more and more ag- gressive. At Paul's Cross, Crick, from Cambridge, chaplain to the Bishop of Norwich, openly denounced the Estab- lished Church, and preached up Cartwright's platform. Sandys is in perplexity. He writes humbly to the Council, 'I sent a messenger to apprehend him.' Crick got safe away, and Sandys makes sure that he will not appear again. Then came Wake, of Christchurch, whom the Bishop's Chancellor warned in the middle of his sermon, that he should preach nothing like sedition. * Well, well,' said the preacher ; but the whole sermon w^as consmned in railing at the present state of the Church, and preaching up Cartwright. Wake made haste back to Oxford, where he seems to have been in security. The Bishop dared not meddle with the privileges of the University. But, worse than this, there was rebellion, treason, within the walls of the Cathedral. Dering, of an old Kentish family, a preacher of great eloquence and popularity, was Eeader; it is presumed that he held the Lectureship of Theology founded by Bishop Richard de Gravesend in St. Paul's. Dering was a fearless man. Preaching before the Queen, he had the boldness to say that, under persecution, she was ' a lamb,' now she was an * untamed heifer.'* Dering's Puritanical sermons drew crowds to the Cathedral, but gave offence to the ruling powers ; he was deprived of 186 m. fawrs. his office. But Bering had a friend at Court. By Cecil's influence lie was reinstated in his office ; again gaveofience. was again deprived. His death, soon after the elevation of Sandys to York, prevented the impracticable Puritan from coming into conflict with the more stern and vigorous Aylmer. On his promotion to York, Sandys preached his farewell sermon at Paul's Cross. The tone of this sermon is tenderly Christian : < God, He knoweth, God knoweth that with this love I have loved you.' ' If any had wronged him, he heartily forgave them, and would forget for ever.' * God had, no doubt, his people ; He had many a dear child in that city ; ' ♦ in any conviction,' he added, ' I have sought reformation, not revenge ; to punish has been a punishment to myself. I never did it but with great grief.' His life and conversation among them Sandys left wholly to their secret judgment. ... * God, of his righteousness, knoweth that wittingly and willingly he had wronged no man ; if I have, I will render him four times as much.' (See York.) A.D. 1577. Sandys was succeeded, March 12, 1576-7, by JoKN" Aylmer. About the early years of Aylmer there is a deep interest as the instructor of Lady Jane Grey. He lived as a sort of chaplain in the household of the Buke of Sufl'olk. The exquisite native gentleness, the mild and modest wisdom, the holy resignation of that most accom- plished and blameless of women, were the gifts of a higher power than a human teacher. But Aylmer taught her the love of letters. His pupil learnt (probably from him) to read in Greek the Phgedo of Plato ; and Aylmer may perhaps deserve some credit for the peacefulness and dig- nity of that the most Christian death ever endured by Christian woman. Aylmer was a man of courage. In the first Convocation of Queen Mary he had showed extra- ordinary resolution. With others he sought refuge on the Continent. On the accession of Elizabeth, he distingmshed himself by a reply to a no less powerful combatant than John Knox. To the ' Monstrous E,e This must have been a temporary instrument. The actual organ, by Bernard Smith, was contracted for in 1694, but not erected till 1700.— Dugdale, p. 392, note Macaulay, vol. vii. p. 443. 208 m, |a«rs. [Edwaed Stillingfleet, Dean. The Deans of St. Paul's during this eventful period, and to the close of the century, were men of the greatest eminence in the Church : Stillingfleet, Tillotson, William Sherlock. Of these, in wide and profound theological learning Edward Stilling- fleet stood the highest. None had held a more firm and even way, none was more pure and blameless in life, or more zealous in his ministerial labours. Stillingfleet com- menced his career w^ith his ' Irenicon ; ' for a young man of twenty-four a work of surpassing power and erudition. The * Irenicon ' was a bold and singularly skilful attempt to reconcile the two dangerously conflicting parties in the Church. It acknowledged the Apostolic, but not the Divine and indefeasible authority of Episcopacy .- He did not hold it to be an integral and indispensable part of Christianity. Stillingfleet himself had lived in the family of Pierpoint, perhaps the wisest and most generally re- spected of the Parliamentary leaders. Yet Stillingfleet received his orders from Brownrig, the ejected Bishop of Exeter. After the Restoration, Stillingfleet, though he took a somewhat higher tone, and departed, to some extent, from his wider views, did not, like others, rush into the opposite extreme. He favoured every proposal for general comprehension. On the promotion of Sancroft to the Primacy, Stillingfleet, then Rector of St. Andrew's, Hol- born, and Archdeacon of London, became Dean of St. Paul's. As the Revolution approached, Stillingfleet was among that distinguished body of churchmen, the London Clergy, who had in their pulpits fairly disputed the popular mind with the most influential of the Nonconformists. They stood on their more correct learning, their eloquence, and activity above the general level of the clergy, and pre- sented a calm but firm resistance to the encroachments of the Crown. As Dean of St. Paul's Stillingfleet was silent. St. Paul's was hardly yet above ground, and it was as Rector of St. Andrew's, Holborn, that his voice was heard, in harmony with all his more powerful brethren. In the Jan Olafsott. 209 great crisis, when so much depended on the London Clergy, Stillingfleet, as Dean of St. Paul's, and Tillotson, as Dean of Canterbury, followed Fowler, Vicar of St. Giles, Cripple- gate, in the peremptory refusal to read the Royal Declara- tion. One of the first acts of William and Mary's reign was the advancement of Stillingfleet to the Bishopric of Worcester. (See Worcester.) ] [John Tillotson, Dean. John Tillotson held the Deanery of St. Paul's, with a residentiaryship, for but a short period (Nov. 19, 1689, to June 12, 1691), and that in the abeyance of the Cathedral services. His fame as a divine, and as a writer of English prose, has long been on the wane, yet in both TiUotson made an epoch. For a long period religion in England had been a conflict of passions. The passion of Puritanism had tri- umphed, but its triumph had led to anarchy. The High Church passion then was in the ascendant, and in its ven- geance was striving to trample out the undying embers of Puritanism ; and both these old antagonists were vying with each other in mortal strife with the passion of invading Romanism. Worse than all, there was a passion, dominant in the Court of Charles H., for the most reckless profligacy, which, long prevalent in practice, had now begun to form itself into a theory hostile to aU religion. TiUotson seated himself unimpassioned, and with perfect self-possession, in the midst of all this fray. He did not absolutely decline all controversy (one, indeed, was inevitable). Distinct un- hesitating, unwavering in his repudiation of all Roman tenets, Tillotson maintained even towards Rome a calm, grave, argumentative tone, unusual in those times. Tillot- son had the ambition of establishing in the weary^ worn-out, distracted, perplexed mind and heart of England a Christi- anity of calm reason, of plain, practical English good sense. It was a pious, a noble attempt, but met with only partial success ; success perhaps greater after his death than during his lifetime. Some success he must undoubtedly have met with, for in his day no preacher was so popular as Tillotson, P 210 ^f. |attr«;. But l3eyond the sphere of his immediate influence, the Oourt^ which now assumed a character of dignified decency, in Queen Mary might seem to display the high ideal of Tillot- son's Christianity. The Dutch Calvinism of William, who was fully occupied in war and state affairs, was quiescent and unohtrusive. The High Church passions, if tamed and quelled to a certain extent, did not repress altogether their sullen animosity. To some, Tillotson — profoundly reli- gious, unimpeachable as to his belief in all the great truths of Christianity, but looking to the fruits rather than the dogmas of the Gospel — guilty of candour, of hearing both sides of a question — and dwelling, if not exclusively at least chiefly on the Christian life, the sober unexcited Christian life — was Arian, Socinian, Deist, Atheist. The prose of Tillotson, as well as his religion, made an epoch. Dryden, the great model, as he has been called, of English, avowedly formed himself on Tillotson. It must be remembered that Hooker and Bacon had passed away. The churchmen of the school of Andrewes, with their dry scho- lasticism, enlivened only by frigid conceits and incongruous images, and by heavy wit; where the meaning vainly struggled through clouds of words ; their long Latin and Greek citations, so that it was doubtful what language would furnish the next sentence ; the Puritans with their half-biblical, ponderous pages (of course there were noble exceptions, passages of the loftiest masculine English) ; these writers had worn out the mind of the reader, as well their jarring opinions, too often the faith of the believer. There was as complete anarchy in the prose as in the reli- gion of the land ; and so the calm, equable, harmonious, idiomatic sentences of Tillotson, his plain practical theology, fell as a grateful relief upon the English ear and heart. To us the prolix, and at times languid, diffuseness of Tillotson is wearisome, but Tillotson must be taken with his age ; and if we can throw ourselves back upon his age, we shall com- prehend the mastery which he held, for a century at least, over the religion and over the literature of the country.] gan millxm ^\txlock 211 [William Sherlock, Dean. Assuredly no appoint- ment in the English Church ever made such an uproar as that of William Sherlock to the Deanery of St. Paul's. Sherlock had been the oracle, the pride, the trust of that party, which even by this time had assumed the title of Nonjurors, men whom no persuasion, no motive of interest, no prospect of advancement in the Church, could induce to take the oaths to William and Mary, even though now in fact the ruling sovereigns of England. It would be pre- sumption to relate this curious incident in the annals of St. Paul's in other words than those of Macaulay ; yet these words must be much curtailed. * In consequence of the elevation of Tillotson to the See of Canterbury, the Deanery of St. Paul's became vacant. As soon as the name of the new Dean was known, a clamour broke forth such as perhaps no ecclesiastical appointment has ever produced. A clamour made up of yells of hatred, of hisses of contempt, and of shouts of triumphant and half-exulting welcome: for the new Dean was William Sherlock. * The story of his conversion deserves to be fiilly told : for it throws great light on the character of the parties which then divided the Church and the State. Sherlock was, in influence and reputation, though not in rank, the foremost man among the Nonjurors. His authority and example had induced some of his brethren, who had at first wavered, to resign their benefices. The day of suspension came, and still he was firm. He seemed to have found, in the consciousness of rectitude, and in meditation on the in- visible world, ample compensation for all his losses. While excluded from the pulpit, where his eloquence had once de- lighted the learned and polite inmates of the Temple, he wrote that celebrated " Treatise on Death," which, during many years, stood next to the " Whole Duty of Man '' in the bookcases of serious Arminians. Soon, however, it be- gan to be suspected that his resolution was giving way. He declared that he would be no party to a schism : he advised p2 212 Bt |attr«. those who sought his counsel not to leaye their parish churches : nay, finding that the law which had ejected him from his cure did not interdict him from performing divine service, he officiated at St. Dunstan's, and there prayed for King William and Queen Mary. The apostolical injunction, he said, was that prayers should he made for all in authority ; and William and Mary were plainly in authority.' The objections of his friends seemed unanswerable, till a passage in a book written by one who had once been Dean of St. Paul's found him an unexpected excuse. Sancroft, to injure the Government, had published Overall's Convocation Book. * The book, indeed, condemned all resistance in terms as strong as he could himself have used : but one passage, which had escaped his notice, was decisive against himself and his fellow-schismatics. Overall, and the two Convocations which had given their sanction to Overall's teaching, pronounced that a government which had origi- nated in rebellion ought, when thoroughly settled, to be considered as ordained by God, and to be obeyed by Chris- tian men. Sherlock read, and was convinced. His vene- rable Mother, the Church, had spoken ; and he, with the docility of a child, accepted her decree. The government which had sprung from the Revolution might, at least since the battle of the Boyne and the flight of James from Ire- land, be fairly called a settled government, and ought there- fore to be passively obeyed till it should be subverted by another revolution and succeeded by another settled govern- ment. * Sherlock took the oaths, and speedily published, in justification of his conduct, a pamphlet entitled " The Case of Allegiance to Sovereign Powers stated." The sensation produced by this work was immense. Dryden's " Hind and Panther " had not raised so great an uproar. Halifax's " Letter to a Dissenter " had not called forth so many answers. The replies to the Doctor, the vindications of the Doctor, the pasquinades on the Doctor, would fill a library. The clamour redoubled when it was known that the convert BitxlotW» mxiimp. 213 had not only been reappointed Master of the Temple, hut had accepted the Deanery of St. Paul's. . , . The rage of the Nonjurors amounted almost to frenzy.' * Till he took the oaths, Sherlock had always been con- sidered as the most orthodox of divines. But the captious and malignant criticisms to which his writings were now subjected would have found heresy in the Sermon on the Mount ; and he, unfortunately, was rash enough to publish, at the very moment when the outcry against his political tergiversation was loudest, his thoughts on the mystery of the Trinity.' ^ Sherlock's aim was an innocent one — to show against the Socinians, now becoming bold and powerful, that by a new terminology this abstruse doctrine might be reconciled with reason. But Sherlock wanted the sagacity to know the jealous sensitiveness, which would not allow this doctrine in any way to be tampered with or even ap- proached. To the popular mind, including by far the larger part of the Clergy, the old-established phraseology was as sacred and divine as the doctrine itself. There was lying in wait, too, a terrible antagonist. South, whose free, bold censures, or rather his satire against the vices of the Court, had been endured for their inimitable brilliancy and wit, and for their cutting sentences against Republicans and Puritans, had indeed conformed, and had withdrawn into retirement. No Nonjuror could more bitterly hate the apostasy, no Whig so haughtily despise the tergiversation, of Sherlock. Perhaps may have been added to this the in- dignation of a Churchman that the best things and the highest honours of the Church should fall to a renegade. South did not spring openly upon his foe. He wrote anony- mously, but no one could doubt for a moment from what hand those sharp and bitter arrows were launched. There was probably no other divine who could have furnished the almost scholastic acuteness and subtlety of their theology. Swift alone (but Swift was not yet) could have contributed the malignity and wit. The dedication of one, the title of d Macaulay, vol. vi. pp. 45-52. 214 ^t |awr«. the other, of these damaging and rancorous quarto tracts may show their spirit. The first was * humbly offered to the admirers of Dr. Sherlock, and to himself, the chief of them.' The second bore the alarming title, ' Tritheism charged upon Dr. Sherlock's new notion of the Trinity.' Sherlock made a gallant defence. How far his enemies were silenced may appear from one sarcasm which flew wide and far : — ' No wonder that the Doctor can swear allegiance to more than one King, when he can swear to more than one God.' Sherlock, however, survived the reproach of his tergi- versation, the impeachment of his orthodoxy. He remained Dean of St. Paul's till far into the reign of Queen Anne.] A.D. 1714. John Kobinson was the successor of Henry Oompton in the Bishopric of London. On this occasion there was a return to the old practice of rewarding services to the state by high ecclesiastical dignity. Robinson (like Pace of old) was a diplomatist rather than a divine. He had done useful service as ambassador at Warsaw ; far more useful and distinguished as a plenipotentiary at the all- important treaty of Utrecht. He had held high preferment — ^a stall, a deanery, a bishopric, that of Bristol. A.D. 1723. His successor, Edmfnd Gibson, was as a churchman a man of a much higher stamp. He was one of our first northern scholars. His publications in that branch of letters were of a high order in his own day, and are named even in ours not without respect. He was an anti- quarian, with the zeal and industry of a master in that useful brotherhood. His translation of Camden, with his additions and illustrations, was long the standard book on the antiquities of our country. But these usually absorbing pursuits by no means detached the active mind of Gibson from the higher functions of his order. During the long illness of Archbishop Wake, Gibson was virtually Primate of England. He was profoundly versed in the ecclesias- tical law of our Church. ' Gibson's Codex,' a huge work, is the established repertory of its statutes and usages. Sir Robert Walpole was reproached with leaning too much on §is^ap ^lUan. ^tm §ntkx. 215 Gi"bsoii, and making him an English Pope ; * and a very- good Pope too/ replied the Minister. He fell out of favour, however, with Walpole, for opposing a Bill for liberating the Quakers from certain restrictions, from which Walpole desired to relieve that body, now become perfectly inoffen- sive ; but who were yet hardly within the pale of orthodox liberality. His Pastoral Letters were those of an earnest, profoundly religious Prelate ; few tracts stated so fairly, or answered with so much vigour, the aggressions of the deisti- cal writers, then held to be most dangerous to the Church. He died September 6, 1748. [Fkancis Hake, Dean. Francis Hare, who obtained the Deanery of St. Paul's October 26, 1726, had been tutor to Marlborough's son and chaplain-general to the army. He had been a busy and effective writer in defence of the Whig Administration during the ascendancy of Marlborough, These important services, as well as his unquestionable abilities, secured him the patronage of the Whig Ministers of George I. Hare must have had strong interest to have triumphed over the difficulties which he cast in his own way. Though one of his writings had been censured by Convocation as tending to scepticism, besides Dean of St. Paul's, he became successively Bishop of St. Asaph and of ^ Chichester. (See those Cathedrals.) ] [Joseph Butler, Dean. To Hare succeeded a greater name, Joseph Butler, Dean of St. Paul's, a.d. 1740-1750. The writings of Butler show how completely religious con- troversy had changed its ground. It is no longer the rights and powers of the clergy which are in dispute, no longer Puritanism and Episcopacy, Scripture and tradition, which are at issue. It is a more mortal combat against enemies without the pale. Butler's palmary argument, that the Deists are embarrassed with equal difficulties with Chris- tians, forms an epoch in our theology, not merely from the exquisite unadorned simplicity of his language, which treats the profoundest subjects with glass-like perspicuity, but from the calm dispassionate way in which he argues out the 216 ^f. WimVs. whole question, with hardly an allusion, certainly without a personal allusion, to an antagonist. In his sermons he discusses with the same incomparable ease and pellucidity of language the profoundest questions of Christian morals. But it may seem presumptuous to dwell longer on Butler, of whom St. Paul's may well be proud, as the Church and the philosophic literature of England are proud.] A.D. 1748. In the second half of the eighteenth century, the first Bishop of London was Thomas Sherlock, son of the former Dean of St. Paul's, William Sherlock. The rise of Sherlock the son was rapid and unchecked. He had none of the political strife, consequently none of the hatred of political warfare, to encounter, which made his father the object of bitter and unforgotten satire. He was not rash enough to join in the perilous questions which laid the Dean open to his unforgiving and merciless adversaries. At Cambridge, Thomas Sherlock was so skilful in business and the management of academical affairs, that he was called by Bentley ' a little Alberoni.' He was deep in controversy, but on what his brethren and the world in general held to be the right side — the Hoadleian controversy, in which, after William Law, he was the most powerful disputant ; against the Deists also and those first, as yet despised, impugners of the supernatural, Tindal and Woolston. Thomas Sher- lock's sermons were long held to be the model of English pulpit eloquence. It is curious to compare Sherlock with the great masters of the French pulpit (remembering that our Shakspearean age of religious writers had passed away, Hooker, Jeremy Taylor, Barrow), the lofty dictatorial Bossuet, Bourdaloue with his vigorous, honest sincerity (overlaid, almost oppressed, by citations from the Fathers), the dramatic pathos of Massillon. The English ear had become impatient of anything but plain, solid argument ; it disliked, it afifected to despise, every gleam of fancy, every touch of passion ; and Sherlock ruled supreme, not merely from his masculine vigour and sustained force, but from his deficiencies. Men were content to be argued with, to have ^^txlotk fofolfe. 217 their reason convinced ; they cared not, or rather were un- willing, to be moved. Emotional Christianity, exhausted "by its excesses, was under proscription, and acquiesced in silence ; to be roused again to new life by the wild alarum of the earlier Methodists. Bishop Sherlock died in 1761 ; and there was then a rapid succession of decent Prelates, who no doubt discharged their functions with quiet dignity, and lived their blameless lives in respect and in esteem. A.D. 1761. Thomas Hattek, translated from Norwich. A.D. 1762. Richard Osbaldestoi^, translated from Carlisle. A.D. 1764. Richard Terrick, translated from Peter- borough. A.D. 1777. Robert Lowth was translated from Oxford to the See of London, and must not be passed over in silence. Lowfch was what we may call the model of an academical Prelate, a scholar advanced in the knowledge of Hebrew, at least beyond most men of his day. Master of a Latin style, with a purity and elegance rarely sur- passed, Lowth was duly grateful to the University which had enabled him to cultivate his rich gifts. A noble passage from his controversy with the literary tyrant of his day must be quoted. It may not perhaps be quite seemly to see dignified Prelates in fierce personal altercation ; but Warburton was an adversary who would contemptuously provoke, and richly deserve, the strongest language. To combat Warburton in mild and gentle terms would have been to pour oil on a seething tempestuous sea. The sub- ject of the quarrel of these divines was one of pure erudi- tion — the age of the Book of Job. Modern criticism would hardly admit the conclusions of Lowth ; but Warburton knew absolutely nothing of the question. He was no Hebrew scholar ; all he knew was that the earlier date of the Book of Job was in the way of his famous theory or paradox, and it must therefore come down to a late date. In his coarsest way he had spoken with some contempt of Lowth's education. Lowth rejoined : — * To have made a 218 ' ^t. lattl's. proper use of the advantages of a good education is a just praise 5 but to have overcome the disadvantages of a bad one is a much greater. In short, my Lord, I cannot but think that this inquisition concerning my education is quite beside the purpose. Had I not your Lordship's example to justify me, I should think it a piece of extreme imperti- nence to inquire where you were bred ; though one might justly plead an excuse for it, a natural curiosity to know where and how such a phenomenon was produced. It is commonly said that your Lordship's education was of that particular kind, concerning which it is a remark of that great judge of men and manners. Lord Clarendon, on whom you have, with a wonderful happiness of allusion, justness of application, and elegance of expression, conferred the unrivalled title of the "Chancellor of Human Natm'e," that it peculiarly disposes men to be proud, insolent, and pragmatical. Now, my Lord, as you have in your whole behaviour and in all your writings remarkably distinguished yourself by your humility, lenity, meekness, forbearance, candour, humanity, charity, civility, decency, good manners, good temper, moderation with regard to the opinions of others, and a modest diffidence of your own, this unpromis- ing circumstance of your education is so far from being a disgrace to you, that it highly redounds to your praise.' So far the fine sarcasm of the highly-provoked controver- sialist. Now hear the scholar and the Bishop : — ' But I am wholly precluded from all claim to such merit ; on the con- trary, it is well for me if I can acquit myself of a charge that lies hard upon me — the burden of being responsible for the great advantages which I enjoyed. For, my Lord, I was educated in the University of Oxford ; I enjoyed all the advantages, both public and private, which that famous seat of learning so largely afibrds ; I spent many happy years in that illustrious society, in a well-regulated course of useful discipline and studies, and in the agreeable and improving converse of gentlemen and scholars, in a society where emulation without envy, ambition without *$ '^tttnuB an 'gthxzbs ^ottx^. 219 jealousy, contention without animosity, excited industry and awakened genius ; where a liberal pursuit of know- ledge and a generous freedom of thought was raised, en- couraged, and pushed forward by example, by commendation, and by authority. I breathed the same atmosphere that the Hookers, the Chillingworths, and the Lockes had breathed before, whose benevolence and humanity were as extensive as their vast genius and their comprehensive knowledge ; who always treated their adversaries with civility and respect ; who made candour, moderation, and liberal judgment as much the rule and law as the subject of their discourses ; who did not amuse their readers with empty declamations and fine-spun theories of toleration, while they were themselves agitated with a furious inquisi- torial spirit, seizing everyone they could lay hold on for presuming to dissent from them in matters the most indifie- rent, and dragging them through the fiery ordeal of abusive controversy. And do you reproach me with my education in this place, and with my relation to this most respectable body, which I shall always esteem my greatest advantage and my greatest honour ? ' But besides their exquisite Latinity and the almost original discovery of the rules and principles of Hebrew verse, the Lectures on Hebrew Poetry make an epoch un- perceived perhaps and unsuspected by its author. These lectures first revealed to the unstartled world that a large portion of the Hebrew Scriptures was pure poetry; ad- dressed to the imagination, or to the reason through the imagination, and therefore making a very difierent demand on the faith of the believer. We have had a Hooker who has shown what truths we receive from revelation, what truths from that earlier unwritten revelation in the reason of man. We want a second Hooker, with the same pro- found piety, the same calm judgment, to show (if possible, to frame) a test by which we may discern what are the eternal and irrepealable truths of the Bible, what the im- aginative vesture, the framework in which these truths are 220 m, lattFs. set in the Hebrew and even in the Christian Scriptures. Theology has too long accepted and demanded the same implicit belief in the metaphors, the apologues, the alle- gories, as in the sublime verities or the plain precepts of our Lord. It has refused to make any allowance for poetry, and endeavoured to force upon our slower and less active minds all the Oriental imagery, all the parabolic creations, as literal objects of the Christian faith. In these investi- gations the Oxford Professor of Poetry unknowingly led the way in his lectures, which were eagerly read by all scholars and divines, Michaelis and RosenmiiUer, as more advanced Hebrew scholars, may have been more accurate and full on the technical laws of Hebrew poetry ; Herder may have entered with profounder philosophy into its spirit ; but Lowth first opened the field, and, by his refined taste and admirable Latin style, made the subject popular, as far as the narrow popularity which such subjects could command. It is curious too, as illustrative of Lowth's utter unconsciousness of the consequences of his revelations as to Hebrew poetry, that, in translating the greatest of their poets, he seemed to forget that he was translating a poet, and chilled Isaiah down to the flattest — correct per- haps, but unrelieved — inharmonious prose. Compare, solely as the version of a poet, Lowth's Isaiah with the Isaiah of Gesenius. Lowth wrote much English verse, but his life as an English poet soon came to an end ; he seemed far more highly inspired in Latin. In justice to his memory, we must not close without his epitaph on his daughter, often cited, but which cannot be cited too often : — Cara vale, ingenio praestans, pietate, pudore, Et plus quam natae nomine, cara vale. Cara Maria vale ! at veniet felicius aBvum Quando iterura tecum, sim modo dignus, ero Cara redi ; laeta turn dicam voce, paternos Eia age in amplexus ! Cara Maria redi. A.D. 1787. The Bishops of London of the eighteenth §mx ^tthx, §mn '$Man, 221 century close with Beilbt Portetj8, a man of no gfreat learning or power, but of singular sweetness of character, and amenity of manners, suited perhaps for the rough and turbulent age in which he lived. He was translated to London from the See of Chester in 1787. [Thomas Secker, Dean. Thomas Seeker was Dean of St. Paul's, 1750-1758, and was perhaps the only instance of the son of a Dissenter rising to be Archbishop of Canter- bury. He was a man of unquestioned piety, and must have possessed some commanding qualities, which enabled him, in an age when high birth and political connections were almost all-powerful, to make his way to the highest dignity. His writings commanded respect in his own day, but do not rank him among the imperishable names of our Church. He belongs rather to the history of our Primates than to that of the Deans of St. Paul's. (See Canterbury.) The Deanery of St. Paul's now became a stepping-stone to a Bishopric, till it became for a considerable time united, sometimes to a poor, on one occasion at least to a wealthy Bishopric. John Hume was Dean, May 24, 1758-1766 ; Bishop of Bristol, 1756; of Oxford, 1758. He resigned the Deanery upon being appointed to the See of Salisbury in 1766. The Honourable Frederick CornwaUis, Dean, 1766-1768; Primate, 1768]. [Thomas Newton, Dean. The Primate was succeeded by Thomas Newton, who held the Deanery with the Bishopric of Bristol. Thomas Newton was the author of a book {' Dissertations on the Prophecies ') which long enjoyed popularity with those who seek incitement for their piety, with no severely critical judgment as to the scope and meaning of the Prophecies, the truth and rele- vancy of the historical events which they suppose to be shadowed forth in those dark oracles. Dean Newton was a man of letters, but singularly unfortunate in his prophetic estimation of books. He speaks almost vrith contempt of Gibbon's ' History,' carelessly about Johnson's ' Lives of the Poets.' « He was, however, an accomplished man, fond of • Life of Newton, p. 234. 222 ^t. lad's. pictures and pnnts. This taste in the Dean, if it did not suggest, may have encouraged the proposal made for the de- coration of the Cathedral, one of the few important events in the annals of St. Paul's during that century. The young Royal Academy was ambitious of displaying its powers. The president. Sir Joshua Reynolds, and some of the lead- ing members made overtures to execute paintings on the walls of the Cathedral. Happily the pious alarm of Bishop Terrick prevailed, and St. Paul's escaped being the vile body on which experiment was to be tried. The Dean, Newton, made a more sensible and modest proposal, that Sir Joshua Reynolds and West should fill two compartments over the doors near the Communion Table, '■ Mr. West's de-p' sign being the Giving the Two Tables of Stone to Moses from the Cloud of Glory, the people all standing beneath ; and Si]* Joshua's design was the Infant Jesus lying in the Manger, with the Shepherds surrounding, and the light flowing all from the Child, as in the famous Notte of Correggio.' But even this scheme was overruled by the same timorous authority. Sir Joshua wrought his design into a picture, for the window at New College ; West went no further than a drawing. Newton died in the Deanery, which he had much im- proved, with his closing eyes on the dial of St. Paul's. He was buried in the south aisle of the crypt. He had designed to have a pompous monument in the Church. His brethren ungraciously interposed, and Newton's monument adorns or incumbers the church of St. Mary-le-Bow.] A.D. 1809. John Randolph, translated from Bangor. A.D. 1813. William Howley, Canon of Christ Church, and Regius Professor of Divinity in the University of Oxford, was elected Bishop of London October 1, and con- secrated October 3, 1813. He was translated to Canterbury 1828. (See Canterbury.) A. D. 1828. Chaeles James Blomfield was translated from Chester, and devoted himself thenceforward with singular energy and ability to the extension of the influence §tm Silmatr. 223 and efficiency of the Ohurcli, labouring for twenty-eight years in his vast and unwieldy diocese. He resigned his Bishopric in 1856 ; but continued to reside at the Palace, at Fulham, till his death, August 5, 1857. A.D. 1856. Akchibald Campbell Tait. Translated to Canterbury, 1868. A.D. 1868. John Jackson, translated from Lincoln. [Heney Haet Milman, Dean. On the death of John Copleston, Bishop of Llandaif and Dean of St. Paul's, the Deanery was conferred upon Henry Hart Milman, and after a long interval the Cathedral had once more a resident head, a Dean, at least not burdened with the cares of a dis- tant diocese. It is impossible, within the brief limits which remain, to give any adequate account of Dean Milman's long and laborious life spent in the service of the Church and of literature. He was born on February 10, 1791, and was the youngest son of Sir Francis Milman, an eminent physi- cian, and of Frances, daughter of WiUiam Hart, Esq., of Stapleton, Gloucestershire. After a brilliant career at Eton and at Oxford, he entered into holy orders, serving for some months in the curacy of Ealing. In 1817 he was presented to the Vicarage of St. Mary's, Reading. His intimate con- nection with the University was, however, still for many years unbroken. He was appointed one of the select preachers in 1820, Professor of Poetry in 1821, Bampton Lecturer in 1829. Those who were old enough to have heard his Lectures from the chair of Poetry used to speak of the sensation which was produced by the beautiful trans- lations from Greek and Latin poets, with which they were illustrated. From the professor's chair, too, at Oxford, was read a part, at any rate, of those translations from the Sanskrit which afterwards appeared under the title of ^ Nala and Damayanti.' In 1835, during the short adminis- tration of Sir Robert Peel, Mr. Milman was appointed to the Rectory of St. Margaret's, Westminster, to which was attached a Canonry in the Collegiate Church of St. Peter. The following years were the most laborious of his life. 224 ^t. lattl's. To all his literary and other pursuits was now added the care of a vast and populous parish, which then com- prised within its boundaries some of the worst and most notoriously infamous streets and alleys which had clustered about the ancient sanctuary. His house in the quiet cloisters of Westminster was to him no haven of rest, keenly though he appreciated the influence of the place and the ties which bound him to the venerable Abbey of whose Chapter he was an active member. Through fifteen years of incessant toil he laboured in his vocation as a parish priest, at times overtasked, but never cast down, until in 1849 he was nominated with universal approval to the Deanery of St. Paul's. As he was eminently qualified to fill this high office, so, with perhaps one exception, in no other more acceptable form could preferment have come, se- curing to him as it did a rightful season of dignified repose, and enabling him thenceforward to devote himself more uninterruptedly to the completion of the great work upon which he was then engaged, ' The History of Latin Chris- tianity.' For his devotion to literature had never flagged, and ardent in the pursuit of truth, he had carried on his historical labours and researches at every moment which could be snatched from the more imperative obligations of his strictly professional duties. His life, indeed, as a writer commenced even earlier than his life as a Minister of the Church. First came his brilliant poetical career. While yet an undergraduate, he had obtained no small measure of applause by his lines on the * Apollo Belvidere,' which have often been quoted as the most perfect of Oxford prize poems, and his tragedy of ' Fazio,' which still keeps possession of the stage, was written while he was at Oxford, and appeared soon after he had taken his degree. It was followed by an epic poem in twelve books, ^ Samor, Lord of the Bright City.' But the three religious dramas, * The Fall of Jerusalem,' * The Martyr of Antioch,' and ' Belshazzar,' with the tragedy of * Anne Boleyn,' were his chief poetical works, and de- xlmnxC^ "^adml nuia Jibtomal Moth. 225 servedly estaWished the fame of Milman in Hs own gene- ration as a poet of no mean order. Few in the present day may find time to turn, as did their fathers, with eager delight to the poetry of Dean Milman, and to the majority he may perhaps be only fully known as the writer of those beautiful hymns which he contributed to Bishop Ileber's collection, and which have embalmed tlie name of Milman in many a Christian household to which his more secular and theological works are alike unknown. It must not, however, be forgotten that in these religious dramas, inde- pendently of their own intrinsic merit, are set other hymns and Christian lyrics of exquisite beauty and pathos. * So Henry Milman emerged from youth to manhood with his fame already made. He might have rested on his honours and resigned himself to the comparative ease of his rectory or his curacy, and the charms of social life, in which he took so keen a pleasure.'* But it was not in his nature to rest. ^ One after another came those laborious works which mark, as by stately monuments, his onward move.' His ' Life of Gibbon ' and edition of the ' Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,' his edition of ' Horace,' his * His- tory of the Jews,' of ' Christianity under the Roman Empire,' of ' Latin Christianity,' which, as has been more than once observed, did away with the reproach which had too long rested on English literature, of having produced no ecclesiastical history worthy of the name, except Gibbon's. Add to all these works the innumerable essays on all manner of literary and ecclesiastical subjects, which, commencing from early days at Reading, he con- tributed to the ' Quarterly Review,' and some faint picture may be realised of a life of unwearied mental activity. In enumerating Dean Milman's historical works, we avoid all mention of the tempest of disapprobation with which the ' History of the Jews ' was on its first publication re- ceived, and of the obloquy with which its author was *■ See Essays on Church and State, by Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, Dean of Westminster, p. 574. Q 226 il. ^mVB, assailed. It was, perhaps, the first time in England that the scientific historical method had been applied to the treatment of the documentary records of sacred history, and it may be taken as a slight illustration of the unreasoning tone of feeling which prevailed on the subject, that a thrill of horror pervaded the religious world on the rumour that a work had appeared in which Abraham was referred to as an Arab ' sheik.' In Oxford the book was denounced from the University pulpit. More serious measures were proposed. But it is not here that the memory of forgotten controversy should be revived. Oxford delighted in after years to wel- come and honour him whom in his earlier days she had so bitterly denounced, and few) who were present, will forget his last appearance in the pulpit of St. Mary's, when, on the pressing invitation of the Vice-Ohancellor, he preached the annual sermon on * Hebrew Prophecy,' the very topic, ' his treatment of which had once called down the thunders of academic theologians.' We have already referred to Dean Milman as having been the first to set on foot the scheme for the decoration of St. Paul's, and it was under his direction that the vast area beneath the dome and in the nave was made available for the services of the Church. His love indeed and admiration for the Cathedral over which he presided as Dean for nearly nineteen years knew no bounds, and he was never weary of pointing out the splendour and beauty of its proportions. This spirit breathes from almost every page of his latest work, the * Annals of St. Paul's,' in which he relates the history of the successive fabrics and of the great and stirring events which have been carried on, or have been commemorated within its walls. A portion of the narrative has formed the substance of this handbook, though much of the detail and most of the per- sonal recollections which give such life and charm to the * Annals ' have, of necessity, been omitted. Up to the last moment of his healthful life he was engaged in revising this work for the press. He died on the 24th day of Sep- tember 1868, and was buried in the crypt of his Cathedral. mx MnuBtl 227 His monument in the south aisle has already Ibeen men- tioned ; it bears the following inscription : — Henricus Hart Milman Nat. iv. Id. Feb. cioioccxci. Ob. Kal. Oct. cioioccclxviii. Pastor, Poeta, Historicus, Theologus. Per xix annos hujusce ecclesiae Cathedralis Decanus. Navis solitudinem divinis officiis, et turbae fidelium restituit. Candore animi, suavitate morum, capaci ingeirio insignis, In omni literarum genere versatus : veri indagator intrepidus Sacrse Historiae, nova Scientiarum augmenta, feliciter adhibuit: Verbis Christi sacrosanctis unice confisus, Adversos sibi, Religion! seculum, si quis alius, conciliabat Fructus longi certaminis, senex tandem percipiens.] PECenkt Lokgtjeville Mai^sel, Dean. On the death of Dean Milman, Henry Longueville Mansel was appointed to the vacant office, and Oxford once more gave one of her most distinguished sons to preside over the Cathedral of the Metropolis. The life of Mansel had indeed, until his nomination to the Deanery, been spent at and in the active service of the University, as Fellow and Tutor of St. John's College, as Waynflete Professor of Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy, and, for a short period, as Regius Professor of Ecclesiastical History. A consummate metaphysician, a profound logician, Mansel was familiar with all the varying forms of speculative theology and philosophy; had measured their depths and heights, and combined with the fulness of his knowledge, a power of expression so singularly lucid that hearers and pupils could not fail to follow, if not per- fectly to comprehend, the course of his reasoning on even the subtlest problems which have perplexed the human mind. His Bampton Lectures, on the * Limits of Religious Thought,' allowed, even by those who refuse their assent to his conclusions, to be, for argument and style, most power- ful specimens of controversial writing, raised the influence and reputation of Mansel, as well without as within the University, to its highest pitch, and pointed him out as one on whom any preferment might justly be bestowed. On his S28 m. ^mVn. removal to St, Paul's, Dean Mansel set to work with cha- racteristic energy to fulfil the duties of his new position, and above all to carry out the scheme for the decoration of the Cathedral, which had been inaugurated by his predecessor. A fresh impetus was given to the undertaking, but neither to Dean Mansel was it given to see its accomplishment. After not three years' tenure of office, in the full vigour of his life and intellect, Dean Mansel died suddenly on July 31, 1871. He was succeeded by Dr. Richard Church, the present Dean.] LOKDON : PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NKW-STBEET SQUARE AND PAKLIAMKNT STREET ) J ' 1 ) > ■3 3 (D Ph ra en O •rH +J PI O o m d •rH -P CO .q n © -p -p 4J (iJ -p c2 o 4J (1) •H ^ AJ m m f-< tn < (D " ■,^^ •rH CD ^^ (Ti w OOD rrf 0' 9 i •iH (1) FM ^■^ -p ,i^ H'd m f3 d c5 rd^ ^ n-l ^ d CO -p > d rri fH pi CQ Cm d Tf Cl aJ Q) ri n ^ r— 1 -P m d -p •iH o •-0 1 1 o CO WOEKS BY HENEY HART MILMAN, D.D. LATE DEAN OF ST. PAUL'S. HISTOEY OF THE JEWS from the Earliest Period down to Modern Times. Mh Edition. 3 vols. Post 8vo. 185. HISTOEY OF CHEISTIANITY, from the BiETH OF Christ to the Abolition of Paganism in the Roman Empire. Uh Edition. 3 vols. Post Svo. IBs. HISTOEY OF LATIN CHEISTIANITY; in- eluding that of the Popes to the Pontificate of NiCHOiiAS V. 4^A Edition. 4 vols. Post Svo. 545. POETICAL WOEKS ; including the Fall of Jerusalem — Martyr of Antioch — Belshazzar — Tamor — Anne Boleyn — Fazio, &c. With Illustrations. 3 vols. Fcp. Svo. 185. LIFE OF HOEACE. With Illustrations. Svo. 95. QUINTI HOEATH FLACCI OPEEA. With 100 Woodcuts. Small Svo. 75. &d. BY CANON ROBERTSON. 6th Edition, revised, 8 vols. Post Svo. &s. each. THE HISTOEY OF THE CHEISTLAN CHURCH. From the Apostolic Times to the Reformation, 1517. By J. CRAiaiE ROBERTSON, M.A., Canon of Canterbury. JOHN MURRAY, Albemarle Street. WOEKS BY AETHUE PENEHIN STANLEY, D.D. DEAN OF WESTMINSTEK. LECTUEES ON THE HISTOEY OF THE JEWISH CHURCH. 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MEMOIE OF EDWAED AND CATHEEINE STANLEY. Crown Svo. JOHN MUREAY, Albemarle Street. THE SPEAKER'S COMMENTARY. Now publishing. A COMMENTARY ON THE HOLY BIBLEl Explanatory and Critical, with a Eevision of the Tbanslation. By the BISHOPS and CLERG-Y of the ANaLICAN CHURCH. Edited by R C. COOK, M.A., Canon of Exeter, Preacher of Lincoln's Inn, and Chaplain to the Queen. Now ready. THE OLD TESTAMENT. Complete in 6 vols. Medium 8vo. £Q. 15s. List of Writers. The Bishop op Wtnchrster. Rev. Samuel Clark, M.A. Ca^on Bspin, B.D. Rev. J. F. Thrtjpp, M.A. The Bishop op Bath and Wells. Caxon Rawlinson, M.A. Canox p. C. Cook, M.A. The Dean of W*:lls. Canon Elliott, M.A. PiioPESSOR Plump PRE, M.A. Rev. W. T. Bullock, M.A. Rev. T. Kingsbury, M.A. Canon Kay, D.D. The Dean op Canterbury. Rev. G-. Currey, D.D. Archdeacon Rose, B.D. Rev. J. M. Fuller, M.A.. Rev. E. Huxtable, M.A. Professor G- and ell, M.A. Rev. F. Meyrick, M.A. Canon W. Drake, M.A. *^* Any Volume may he had separately. Also, now Ready, Vol. I. THE NEW TESTAMENT. (To be completed in 4 vols.) Medium 8vo. 18s. List of Writers. The Archbishop op York. Dean Mansel, D.D. Canon P. C. Cook, M.A. The Bishop of St. David's. Canon Westcott, D.D. The Bishop op Chester. Canon G-ippord, D.D. Canon Evans. Rev. J. Waite, M.A. The Dean op Chester. Dean Jeremib, D.D. The Bishop op Derry and Raphoe. The Bishop of London. Canon Kay, D.D. The Dean of Rochester. Canon Lightfoot, D.D. Rev. J. R. Lumby, B.D. Archdeacon Lee, D.D. Vols. I. & II. (to be completed in 6 vols.), crowa 8vo. 7s. 6c?. each. THE STUDENT'S COMMENTAEY ON THE OLD AND NEW TESTAMENTS. Abridged from the Speaker's Commentary, and Edited by J. M. FULLER, M.A., Vicar of Bexley, Kent, and formerly Fellow of St. John's College, Cambridge. JOHN" MURRAY, Albemarle Street. THE ENGLISH CATHEDEALS. "With numerous Illustrations, 7 vols, post 8vo. HANDBOOKS TO THE CATHEDEALS OF ENGLAND AND WALES; giving a History of each She, with Biographical Notices of the Bishops. 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They are illustrated by engravings of the highest beauty and interest ; most of them representing subjects or points of view which do not occur in Britton, executed for the most part by Mr. Jewitt.'— Quarterly Eeview. * This very attractive and valuable work may, indeed, be said to be by fir the best guide book to our cathedrals. It is, in iact, a national work as well as a church work, and is worthy of our church and nation.' English Churchman. ' It would be difiBcult to find any work in which the author has so carefully and successfully condensed information. Be has succeeded in giving a thorough and reliable history of each cathedral, a scrupulously accurate and faithful description of each edifice, and a chronological narrative of the Bishops of each See.' — Keliquaky. ' This work is full of very valuable information, architectural, arch geological, historical, and artistic.'— Satubday Review. 'Handbooks that should provide a concise but correct history of the several cathedrals of this country have long been looked for, not only by antiquaries and architects, but by all men of art or of letters. The illustrations are the best of their kind.'— Literary Churchman. ' These volumes will prove a great boon to the architectural student ; but they are so free trom mere technical pbraseology, and are so pleasantly written, that the general reader will be tempted to increase his knowledge oi both the history and architecture of our great cathedrals.' — John Bull. JOHN MUERAY, Albemarle Street. 14 DAY USE aETUKN TO DeIk'^OM WHICH BOKKOWED LOAN DEPT. ^ ■ K^t is due on the last date stamped below, or Th,s book ^s due °n,^ ,„ ^hich renewed. Renewed books ate subject toinuned^at^recaU. 8Mar'6tSS °^!l|cElVEiiMAR 'i!l>l lEOSHn^EPTT w^^^ KEC. CIR. MAR 1 6 '84 LD 21A-50W-12/60 (B6221sl0)476B General Library , University of Cahforma Berkeley 1^205945 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA UBRARY .Hi