of the ill-fated house of Stuart. For some years Henry Farley had, with
pen and picture, done much to rouse an interest in St. Paul's Cathedral,
which, for over half a century, had been in a dilapidated condition, the
chief cause being the result of a fire in 1561. In addition to trying to
get bills introduced into Parliament, publishing pamphlets, he had, in
1616, pictures painted. One painting represented a procession of great
personages; another, the said personages seated at a sermon at St. Paul's
Cross. We reproduce a picture of his painting of the cross. In the
gallery, placed against the choir of the church, are seated the King,
Queen, Prince of Wales, the Lord Mayor, and other notable men and women,
and a large gathering of citizens is seated in front of the cross. The
dog-whipper is busy driving away a dog. The outcome of Farley's zeal, was
the visit of James I., with his family and court, to hear a sermon here,
on Midlent Sunday, in 1620. The gathering would be similar to the one
represented in the picture drawn four years previously. The preacher was
Dr. John King, called by James "The King of Preachers." He selected for
his text, Psalm cii. 13, 14. "Thou wilt arise, and have mercy upon Zion;
for the appointed time is come; for Thy servants delight in the stones
thereof, and have pity on the dust thereof." It will, perhaps, not be
without interest to give a few quotations from Dr. King's sermon, as a
specimen of the extravagant figures of speech which prevailed at this
period, and came down to the days of William III. "I am now," said Dr.
King, "to speak unto you of litterall and artificial Zion--a temple
without life, yet of a sicklie and crazie constitution, sicke of age
itselfe, and with many aches in her joynts, together with a lingering
consumption that hath long been in her bowels, the timber in the beames
whereof cryeth, 'I perish,' and the stone on the walles answereth no less,
and part is already moultered away to stone, part to dust, and (that which
is more), symbolizing with the other Zion, not only when fates and
casualties, but in the very retinues and revolutions of these fates. After
her building (600 years after Christ), salted with fire, sacrificed to the
anger of God, and being raised, Phoenix, out of the ashes, betwixt 400 and
500 more (two in a thousand years), touched by an invisible hand, with a
coal from the altar of heaven, that was never blowne, which wholly
consumed the crest and vertical point, the top and top-gallant, and so
scorched the rest, that ever since it hath remained valetudinary and
infirm, rather peced out with an ordinary kind of physic, than restored to
a sound plight." In conclusion, he said, "Set it as seale upon your
hearts, that your king has come unto you. Such comings are not often;
Queen Elizabeth once, and now your sovereign once. Would it be believed,
that a king should come from his court to this cross, where princes seldom
or never come, and that ceremony to be in state, with a kinde of sacred
pompe and procession, accompanied with all the fair flowers of his field,
and the fairest rose of his garden, to make requests to his subjects, not
for his private, but for the public; not for himselfe, but for God; not
out of reason, state policy, but of religion and piety; no lesse fruit of
honour and favour with God and man accruing thereby to his people, than to
his sacred Majesty. You see it, value and prize it." James I. and others
gave liberal donations towards the restoration fund, but it was not until
the reign of Charles I. that any real progress was made. The king and
Archbishop Laud were most active in carrying out the much-required work.
[Illustration: THE PREACHING CROSS, ST. PAUL'S.]
The story of St. Paul's Cross, and the interest that gathers round it,
must here close. The Civil War is about to cast a gloom over the land, and
bring misery to gentle and simple. The exact year the cross was pulled
down is a disputed point, but most likely about 1643.
Carlyle, in his "Letters and Speeches of Cromwell," has the following
striking passage: "Paul's Cross was a kind of stone tent, with leaden
roof, at the N.E. corner of Paul's Cathedral, where sermons were still,
and had long been, preached in the open air; crowded devout congregations
gathering there, with forms to sit on, if you came early. Queen Elizabeth
used to 'tune her pulpits,' she said, when there was any great thing on
hand; as Governing Persons now strive to tune the Morning Newspapers.
Paul's Cross, a kind of _Times Newspaper_, but edited partly by Heaven
itself, was then a most important entity."
Cheapside Cross.
Among the memorial crosses of Europe, those of Queen Eleanor are the most
elegant and historically interesting. Edward I. was blessed with a devoted
wife, who accompanied him in his expeditions and wars. He took part in the
last of the Crusades, and was, by an assassin, wounded by a poisoned
dagger. His wife, it is said, saved his life by sucking the venom from the
wound. The English people greatly loved her; she was ever ready to comfort
those in trouble, and redress wrongs. She was married in 1254, in her
fifteenth year, and died at Harby or Hardeby, Nottinghamshire, on November
20th, 1290, when on her way to join the king in Scotland. She appears to
have been ill for some time, and, on October 18th, six weeks before her
death, a mark (13s. 4d.) was paid to Henry of Montpellier for syrups and
other medicines for the queen's use. Leopardo, her own physician, was in
attendance. The king deeply mourned her loss, and had her remains conveyed
to Westminster Abbey for interment. An elegant cross was erected at every
place where the funeral procession rested. Fifteen of these crosses have
been traced. The details of the queen's death and burial are
hotly-contested historical problems, and no two historians agree in their
statements. Of the crosses erected by Edward, only three remain, those at
Northampton, Gedington, and Waltham Cross. A picture of the Northampton
Cross, as it appears to-day, enables us to realise how elegant it must
have been when newly erected, and before time's defacing touch and man's
mischief had robbed it of much of its beauty.
The idea of the Eleanor Crosses was not a new one, it was, as is stated by
Rimmer, in his "Ancient Stone Crosses of England," "an extension of the
lich-gate system, for a corpse always rested under a 'lich.'" At the
churchyard gates in some places, notably in Cornwall, are large
lich-stones, on which to rest the coffin while the funeral procession is
waiting for the officiating minister. At St. Winnow, Cornwall, an example
may be seen. In some parts of the country, as at Lustleigh, Devonshire,
there are resting stones for the coffin on its way to the burial ground,
some distance from the church. The coverings over the lich-gates are
usually of wood, but sometimes they are of stone, as at Birstal, near
Leeds. At Barking, Essex, are chambers over the lich-gate, and one was
formerly known as the Chapel of the Holy Rood. In other parts of the
country are examples of chambers over the lich-gate. A great many of the
kings of France were buried at the Abbey of St. Denis, and on the road
leading to it from Paris, crosses were erected at almost every few hundred
yards. The Revolution swept away the monuments.
The cross at Cheape was an Eleanor Cross, and erected shortly after the
death of the queen. It is generally believed that this cross was one of
the finest of its class, but no reliable description has come down to us.
Master Michael, a mason of Canterbury, was its builder.
In 1441, the rebuilding of this cross, in combination with a drinking
fountain, was commenced, and was hardly completed in 1486. Timber and lead
were largely used in the second erection, which was frequently regilded.
It appears to have attained its greatest beauty in the reign of Edward
VI. At his accession to the throne, it underwent considerable alterations
and improvements.
[Illustration: NORTHAMPTON CROSS.]
A painting of the period, shewing the procession of Edward VI. to his
Coronation, gives us a good idea of the cross as it appeared in 1547. It
may be briefly described as stately and graceful. There are three
octangular compartments, and each is supported by eight slender columns.
Its height is calculated at about thirty-six feet; the first storey being
about twenty feet, the second, ten, and the third, six. Amongst the
statues which ornamented the structure may be mentioned, in the first
niche, most likely, a contemporaneous pope, round the base of the second
were four apostles, and above them was placed the Virgin, with the infant
Jesus in her arms. Four standing figures filled the top niche, and a
cross, surmounted with the emblematic dove, completed the ornamentation,
which was extremely rich.
It long remained a pride of the city, but as time ran its course changes
of sentiment came about. Towards the close of Elizabeth's reign, it was
denounced as a relic of Popish superstition. On the night of the 21st
June, 1581, an attack was made by some fanatics on the monument, and much
of the carving mutilated. "The Virgin," says an old writer, "was robbed of
her son, and her arms broken, by which she staid him on her knees; her
whole body was haled by ropes, and left ready to fall." Although a reward
was offered by the queen, the offenders were not discovered. Fourteen
years later, the effigy of the Virgin was repaired, and "a newe sonne,
misshapen (as borne out of time), all naked, was laide in her armes, the
other images continuing broken as before."
Next, an attempt was made to remove the woodwork, and in place of the
crucifix erect a pyramid. A figure of the goddess Diana replaced the
Virgin. Diana was represented for the most part naked, "and water,
conveyed from the Thames, filtering through her naked breasts, but
oftentimes dryed up." Elizabeth expressed her displeasure at the
operations of the fanatics, and gave directions for a plain gilt cross to
be placed on the summit of the monument, saying such a simple symbol of
the faith of the country ought not to cause scandal. The Virgin was again
restored, but, in less than a fortnight, the figure was mutilated, and the
child taken away.
In 1600, the cross was rebuilt, and the question of restoring the crucifix
gave rise to considerable discussion. The matter was referred to the
authorities of the Universities. All sanctioned it except Dr. Abbot,
afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, but there was not to be a dove. In a
sermon of the period, the following passage occurs: "Oh! this cross is one
of the jewels of the harlot of Rome, and is left and kept here as a
love-token, and gives them hope that they shall enjoy it and us again."
The new cross, which was protected by strong iron railings, was much
inferior to the preceding one. In style, it was half Grecian and half
Gothic. Images of a superstitious character were superseded by those of
apostles, kings, and, prelates, and of the original cross only the
crucifix was retained. For many years, it remained without giving rise to
any contention. The Puritanical zeal increased in course of time, and on
the night of January 24th, 1641, it again suffered at the hands of the
fanatics.
[Illustration: PURITANS DESTROYING CHEAPSIDE CROSS.]
At this time, commenced a literary warfare, in the form of pamphlets,
respecting the cross. These were followed by its destruction. Robert
Harlow was deputed by Parliament to carry out the work. He went to the
cross with a troop of horse and two companies of foot soldiers. How
completely he executed his orders may be gathered from the official
account. It states: "On the 2nd of May, 1643, the cross in Cheapside was
pulled down. At the fall of the top cross, drums beat, trumpets blew, and
multitudes of caps were thrown in the air, and a great shout of people
with joy. The 2nd of May, the almanack says, was the invention of the
cross, and the same day, at night, were the leaden popes burnt [they were
not popes, but eminent English prelates] in the place where it stood,
with ringing of bells and a great acclamation, and no hurt at all done in
these actions."
The author of "The Old City" (London, 1865), a work to which we have been
indebted for some of the particulars included in this paper, adverts to a
curious tract published on the day the cross was destroyed. It bears the
following title: "The Downfall of Dagon; or, the taking down of Cheapside
Crosse; wherein is contained these principalls: 1. The crosse sicke at
heart. 2. His death and funerall. 3. His will, legacies, inventory, and
epitaph. 4. Why it was removed. 5. The money it will bring. 6. Noteworthy,
that it was cast down on that day when it was first invented and set up."
An extract or two from this publication can hardly fail to interest the
reader. "I am called the 'Citie Idoll,'" says the tract, "the Brownists
spit at me, and throw stones at me; the Famalists hide their eyes with
their fingers; the Anabaptists wish me knockt in pieces, as I am to be
this day; the sisters of the fraternity will not come near me, but go by
Watling Street, and come in again by Soaper Lane, to buy provisions of the
market folks.... I feele the pangs of death, and shall never see the end
of the merry month of May; my breath stops--my life is gone; I feel myself
a-dying downards." The bequests embrace the following: "I give my iron
work to those which make good swords at Hounslow, for I am Spanish iron
and steele to the backe. I give my body and stones to those masons that
cannot telle how to frame the like againe, to keep by theme for a
patterne, for in time there will be more crosses in London than ever there
was yet." The epitaph is as follows:
"I looke for no praise when I am dead,
For, going the right way, I never did tread.
I was harde as an Alderman's doore,
That's shut and stony-hearted to the poore.
I never gave almes, nor did anything
Was good, nor e'er said, 'God save the King.'
I stood like a stock that was made of wood,
And yet the people would not say I was good,
And, if I tell them plaine, they're like to mee--
Like stone to all goodnesse. But now, reader, see
Me in the dust; for crosses must not stand,
There is too much crosse tricks within the land;
And, having so done never any good,
I leave my prayse for to be understood;
For many women, after this my losse,
Will remember me, and still will be crosse--
Crosse tricks, crosse ways, and crosse vanities.
Believe the crosse speaks truth, for here he lyes."
The Biddenden Maids Charity.
For several centuries, the strange story of the Biddenden Maids, was told
by sire to son, and, in course of time, was made the subject of a
broadside, which has become rare, and is much prized by collectors of
historical curiosities.
The tale is to the effect that, in the year of our Lord, 1100, at the
village of Biddenden, in the county of Kent, were born Eliza and Mary
Chulkhurst, commonly called "The Biddenden Maids." It is asserted that the
sisters were joined together by the hips and shoulders.
There is not a record of any attempt being made to separate the couple,
and they grew up together. When they had attained the age of thirty-four
years, one of the sisters was taken ill, and shortly afterwards died. The
surviving one was entreated to submit to a surgical operation being
performed, and have her body separated from that of her deceased sister,
but she firmly refused. She was prepared to die. "As we came together,"
she said, "we will also go together." Her life closed about six hours
after that of her sister.
[Illustration: BIDDENDEN CAKE.]
The claims of the poor were not overlooked. The sisters, in their will,
bequeathed to the churchwardens of the parish of Biddenden, a piece of
land which is known as "Bread and Cheese Land."
The rent of it realises a considerable sum of money, which is largely
distributed to the poor of the place in bread and cheese.
The memory of the wonderful women is maintained by the distribution, on
Easter Sunday, of about a thousand small cakes made of flour and water,
and having impressed upon them rude representations of the Maids.
Hone, in his "Every Day Book," gives a picture of the cake he received in
1826, which we reproduce. It is the exact size of the one sent to him.
Since Hone's time a new stamp or mould has been made, and the old style of
representing the Maids has not been followed in every detail. In the cut
we give, it will be noticed no legs appear, now they are represented on
the cakes.
In addition to the small cakes presented to strangers as well as
villagers, every resident in the parish is entitled to a threepenny loaf
and three quarters of a pound of cheese. The charity was formerly
delivered at the tower door of the church, but since some alterations have
been made in the building, the distribution takes place at the old
workhouse. The congregation, on Easter Sunday afternoon, after which
service the cakes are given, is always very large, many persons coming
from the surrounding villages.
Halsted, the historian of Kent, discredits the traditional origin of the
old custom. A similar story is related of two females, whose figures
appear on the pavement of Norton St. Philip's Church, Somersetshire.
Plagues and Pestilences.
The graphic pages of Daniel Defoe have made the reader familiar with the
terrible story of the Great Plague of London, which began in December,
1664, and carried off 68,596 persons, some say even a larger number. To
give a detailed account of that visitation would be to relate an oft-told
tale. Some important facts, not generally known, respecting old-time
plagues and pestilences may be gleaned from parish registers and
churchwardens' accounts, and it is from such records that we propose
mainly to draw materials for this chapter.
When a town was infected with the plague, business was suspended, and the
inhabitants isolated from the neighbouring places. If a person desired to
travel at large, he made application to the Mayor or Chief Magistrate,
and obtained a certificate to the effect that he was not suspected of the
plague.
In many towns, great wisdom was displayed by erecting huts on breezy moors
and other places away from the busy haunts of men, for the reception of
the plague-stricken persons, and to which they were removed. The inmates
of a house were not suffered to leave the homes from whence the patients
had been removed. An order passed in London, in 1570, states: "Howses,
having some sicke, though none die, or from whence some sicke have been
removed, are infected houses, and such are to be shutt upp for a moneth.
The whole family to tarrie xxviii daies." Round the houses, watch and ward
were constantly kept to prevent egress. Certain boundaries were defined,
and these could not be passed. The watchers provided the inmates of the
houses with food, etc., and took messages to their friends. In the
churchwardens' accounts of St. Mary, Woolchurch, Haw, is an entry:--
"1607-8. Paid a warder for warding Mr. Clarke's house, being infected,
ordered by the Mayor 4 0."
On the door of the infected house was the sign of a cross, in a flaming
red colour, with the pathetic prayer, "Lord, have mercy on us." In old
churchwardens' accounts, many items like the following, drawn from the
accounts of St. Mary, Woolnoth, London, might be quoted:
"1593-4. Item for setting a crosse upon one Allen's doore in the
sicknesse time ijd.
Item paid for setting two red crosses upon Anthony Sound his
dore iiijd."
These crosses were about a foot in length. More than one student of the
past has suggested that the practice of marking the doors of infected
houses with red crosses arose from the injunction given to Moses at the
institution of the passover. The crosses served the important purpose for
which they were intended, namely, to caution folk against going to
infected houses.
Queen Elizabeth, in 1563, commanded that the inmates of a house which had
been visited by the plague should not go to church for a month.
Orders were given that any dogs found in the streets were to be killed. An
order, bearing on this matter, made in May, 1583, at Winchester, may be
reproduced: "That if any house wtn this cytie shall happen to be infected
with the Plague, that thene evye persone to keepe within his or her house
every his or her dogg, and not to suffer them to goo at large: And if any
dogg be then founde abroad at large, it shall be lawful for the Beadle or
any other person to kill the same dogg: and that any Owner of such Dogg
going at large shall lose 6s." It was believed that dogs conveyed
contagion from infected houses. A passage in Homer's "Iliad" has a
reference to man obtaining infection from an animal. It relates to the
great pestilence that prevailed in the Grecian army:
"On mules and beasts the infection first began,
At last, its vengeful arrows fix'd in man;
Apollo's wrath the dire disorder spread,
And heap'd the camp with mountains of the dead.
For nine long nights throughout the dusky air,
The funeral torches shed a dismal glare."
Many remedies were tried to stay the progress of plagues. The ringing of
church bells was among the number. "Great ringing of bells in populous
cities," says Bacon, in his "Natural History," "disperseth pestilent air,
which may be from the concussion of the air, and not from the sound."
Music, in the Middle Ages, was believed to have a healing power. Large
fires were lighted in houses and streets as preventatives. It is not
unlikely that the practice may be derived from the fact that, in 1347,
during the time of the plague raging at Avignon, Pope Clement VI. caused
great fires to be kept in his palace, day and night, and by this means
believed he had kept the pestilence from his household. In 1563, we learn
from Stow that a commandment came from Queen Elizabeth that "every man in
every street and lane should make a bonefire three times a week, in order
to the ceasing of the plague, if it so pleased God, and so to continue
these fires everywhere, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays."
It is asserted in Rome, in A.D. 195, that for some time, 5,000 persons
died daily of a fearful plague. The physicians were unable to check its
deadly course. It lasted for three years. The doctors of the day urged
upon the people to fill their noses and ears with sweet smelling ointments
to prevent contagion. We learn from Defoe's "Journal of the Plague Year,
1665," how largely perfumes, aromatics, and essences, were employed to
escape contagion at that time. Says Defoe, if you went into a church where
any number of people were present, "there would be such a mixture of
smells at the entrance, that it was much more strong, though, perhaps, not
so wholesome, than if you were going into an apothecary's or druggist's
shop. In a word, the whole church was like a smelling bottle; in one
corner, it was all perfumes; in another, aromatics, balsamics, and a
variety of drugs and herbs; in another, salts and spirits; as every one
was furnished for their own preservation." He further says: "The poorer
people, who only set open their windows night and day, burnt brimstone,
pitch, and gunpowder, and such things in their rooms, did as well as the
best."
The annals of many of the northern English towns contain numerous sad
references to plagues. Newcastle-upon-Tyne, for example, suffered much.
The churchwardens' accounts of St. Nicholas contain records of payments
which bear on this subject. We find, for instance, the following item:
"1699. By cash paid for a tarr barrell to burn in ye church 0 8."
Fires were made in churches in movable pans. A year later, we read:
"1700. For hearbs for rubing ye pewes 1 0."
In courts of justice, might be seen large nosegays, not for ornament, but
as preservatives against the pest. The Rev. J. R. Boyle, F.S.A., has gone
carefully over the churchwardens' accounts of St. Nicholas', now the
Cathedral of the city of Newcastle, and reproduced some curious items in
his guide to the building. Here follow a few of the items:
"1684. For juniper and erbes for ye vestry 0 10.
1684. Paid for erbes and fflowers for Mr. Maior's pew 2 times 3 0.
1686. Erbes for ye church at Easter, Whitsuntyde, and Assizes 6 0.
1688. Paid for holland [holly] and juniper for ye vestery, and erbs
1 11.
1690. Paid for sweet herbs for strawing in ye pews, etc. 1 0."
Mr. William Kelly, read before the Royal Historical Society, on July 12th,
1877, an important paper on "Visitations of the Plague at Leicester." He
gave particulars of the Mayor addressing a letter to Justice Gawdie, who
was about to visit the town in his official capacity. He was informed that
the plague had broken out in houses near the castle, and it was concluded
that his lordship would not come to preside so near the infected places.
The result of the communication may be gathered from the following entry,
copied from the chamberlain's accounts:
"1594. Item, paid for charges of makinge readye of All Hallowes Churche
for the judges to hold the assyses in, because the other parte of the
town was then infected with the sicknes xvs. vjd."
We have previously stated, that persons wishing to leave a plague-stricken
town, for the purpose of travelling, were obliged to obtain passes. Mr.
Kelly gives a copy of one of these documents, which we reproduce _in
extenso_. It reads as follows: