CONVENTUAL REMAINS.
_Conventual Remains_.--_St. Andrew's Hall_.--_The Festival_.--_Music_:
_Dr. Hook_, _Dr. Crotch_.--_Churches_.--_Biographical Sketches_:
_Archbishop Parker_, _Sir J. E. Smith_, _Taylor_, _Hooker_, _Lindley_,
_Joseph John Gurney_.
The sketch of the Cathedral has embraced so much of the early history of
the various religious "orders," as to render but little necessary
respecting the origin of the "freres," or friars, whose settlements, in
the city and neighbourhood, once occupied such important place in its
limits and history.
The Black Friars, or Preachers, White Friars, or Carmelites, Grey Friars,
or Minors, and the Austin Friars, all had at one period, from the
thirteenth century to the era of the Reformation, large establishments
within its precincts; besides which, there was a nunnery, and divers
hospitals, as they were called, such as the Chapel of the Lady in the
Fields, Norman's Spital, and Hildebrand's Hospital; and hermitages
without number lurked about the corners of its churchyards, or perched
themselves above the gateways of its walls. The greater portion of these
have left but a name, or a few scattered fragments, behind to mark their
site; but one magnificent relic of the Black Friars monastery, comprising
the whole of the nave and chancel of their beautiful church, yet stands
in an almost perfect state of preservation,--a noble witness of the
wealth and taste of the poor "mendicant" followers of Friar
Dominick,--which was rescued from destruction at the period of the
general "dissolution," by the zeal and practical expediency of municipal
authorities. Of the two friaries that have ceased to exist even in
outline, it may suffice to record, that the Carmelites numbered among
them the eminent writer, "John Bale, the antiquary," as he is wont to be
called; the Austin Friars seem to have possessed few particular claims
for notice, save their less rigorous injunctions for fasting, but the
Friars Minors were the great rivals of the Preachers, and both together,
the sore troublers of the peace of the "Regulars," who looked upon the
growing power of this "_secular_" priesthood with a jealousy and hatred
to be conceived only by those who appreciate duly the "loaves and
fishes." As a sample of the feeling existing, the account of Matthew
Paris, the monk of St. Albans, may fairly be cited. He says, "The
'friars preachers' having obtained privileges from Pope Gregory IX. and
Innocent IV. being rejoiced and magnified, they talked malapertly to the
prelates of churches, bishops and archdeacons, presiding in their synods;
and where many persons of note were assembled, showed openly the
privileges indulged to them, proudly requiring that the same may be
recited, and that they may be received with veneration by the churches;
and intruding themselves oft-times impertinently, they asked many
persons, even the religious, 'Are you confessed?' And if they were
answered 'Yes,' 'By whom?' 'By my priest.' 'And what idiot is he? He
never learned divinity, never studied the devices, never learned to
resolve one question; they are blind leaders of the blind; come to us,
who know how to distinguish one leprosy from another, to whom the secrets
of God are manifest.' Many therefore, especially nobles, despising their
own priests, confessed to these men, whereby the dignity of the
ordinaries was not a little debased."
Another says: "Now they have created two new fraternities, to which they
have so generally received people of both sexes, that scarce one of
either remains, whose name is not written in one of them, who, therefore,
all assembling in their churches, we cannot have our own parishioners,
especially on solemn days, to be present at divine service, &c.; whence
it is come to pass that we, being deprived of the due tithes and
oblations, cannot live unless we should turn to some manual labour. What
else remaineth therefore? except that we should demolish our churches, in
which nothing else remaineth for service or ornament but a bell and an
old image, covered with soot.' But these preachers and minors, who begun
from cells and cottages, have erected royal houses and palaces, supported
on high pillars, and distinguished into various offices, the expenses
whereof ought to have been bestowed upon the poor; these, while they have
nothing, possess all things; but we, who are said to have something, are
beggars." Alas! how many a poor curate of this nineteenth century, upon
30 pounds a-year, might subscribe to a like pitiful complaint.
Another accusation against these mendicant friars, in their days of
maturity, was that they used to steal children under fourteen years of
age, or receive them without the consent of their friends, and refuse to
restore them, embezzling or conveying them away to "other cloisters,"
where they could not be found. A statute of Henry IV. subjected these
friars to punishment for this offence; and the provincials of the four
orders were sworn before the parliament, for themselves and successors,
to be obedient to this statute.
Kirkpatrick, from whom the above is quoted, says elsewhere, that in 1242,
a great controversy arose between the friars minors and preachers, about
the greatest worthiness, most decent habit, the strictest, humblest, and
holiest life; for the preachers challenged pre-eminence in these--the
minors contradicted, and great scandal arose. And because they were
learned men, it was the more dangerous to the church.
"These are they," says he, "who in sumptuous edifices, and lofty walls,
expose to view inestimable treasures, impudently transgressing the limits
of poverty, and the fundamentals of their profession; who diligently
apply themselves to lords and rich persons, that they may gape after
wealth; extorting confessions and clandestine wills, commending
themselves and their order only, and extolling them above all others. So
that no Christian now believes he can be saved, unless he be governed by
the councils of the preachers and minors. In obtaining privileges, they
are solicitors; in the courts of kings and potentates, they are
councillors, gentlemen of the chamber, treasurers, match-makers,
matrimony-brokers; executioners of papal extortions; in their sermons,
either flatterers or stinging backbiters, discoverers of confession, or
impudent rebukers."
Making all due allowance for the party feeling of the historian, thus
commemorating the factions of the "Mother Church," enough may be seen of
the truth, to form a general idea of the condition of the brotherhoods,
one of whose "palaces, supported by high pillars," is now left us as a
subject for our investigation.
The order of Black Friars owe their origin to the famous Dominick,
notorious for his zeal in the persecution of the Albigenses. He figures
also in the "Golden Legend," as a miraculously endowed infant; his
god-mother perceiving on his forehead a star, which made the whole world
light. The common seal of the Black Friars, still preserved,
commemorates another miracle concerning him: "Being grown to man's
estate, he became a great preacher against heretics; and once upon a
time, he put his authorities against them in writing, and gave the
schedule into the hands of a heretic, that he might ponder over its
contents. The same night, a party being met at a fire, the man produced
the schedule, upon which he was persuaded to cast it into the flames, to
test its truth; which doing, the schedule sprung back again, after a few
minutes, unburnt; the experiment was repeated thrice, with the same
results; but the heretics refused to be convinced, and pledged themselves
not to reveal the matter;--but one of them, it seems, afterwards did so."
Many other marvellous tales are extant of holy St. Dominick, but we
hasten on to take a look at the church of his followers. The present
building bears date of the fifteenth century, and would seem to have been
materially enriched by the famous Sir Thomas Erpingham, who takes such
prominent place in the city, and church walls, and gateways, his arms
figuring here in the stone-work between every two of the upper story of
windows. In its primitive condition the church boasted of three chapels,
one of them subterranean, three altars, two lights, and an image of St.
Peter of Malayn; the choir was decorated with panel paintings, which
found their way at the Reformation to the parlour of some private
dwelling-house close by, whose walls they yet adorn. Two guilds were
held there, the guild of St. William and the Holy Rood. In 1538, when
the axes and hammers of King Henry were busy over the face of the land,
and bonfires of libraries were being made in the precincts of every
monastery, the house and church of the Black Friars was saved.
Deputations to his majesty from the corporation of the city, successfully
negotiated the transfer of the building to its possession, on
consideration of the sum of eighty-one pounds being paid into the Royal
Treasury. Mention is made in old records of a handsome library belonging
to this as well as the Carmelite Monastery; their fate perhaps may be
conjectured by that of many others of the time. Bale mentions the fact
of a merchant buying the contents of two noble libraries for forty
shillings, to be used as waste paper, and ten years were occupied in thus
consuming them. The chancel of the church has retained its character as
a place of worship almost unvaryingly until the present day, at one time
being leased to the Dutch, and in later times used as a chapel by the
inmates of the workhouse; occasionally, however, it has served the
purpose of a playhouse; as we find on record, injuries sustained by the
breaking down of partitions at the performance of "interludes" in it upon
Sundays, in the thirty-eighth of Henry the Eighth. The king's players we
also find similarly occupying the nave or hall in Edward the Sixth's
reign, during Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday before Christmas. The
cloisters and other portions of the monastery were in the reign of Anne,
upon the first establishment of workhouses for the poor, appropriated to
that purpose, the groined roofings to this day forming the ceilings of
pauper kitchens and outhouses. The sole trace of ecclesiastical
furniture lingering in the nave is a stone altar in one corner, much more
noted as the place of gathering in after-times for the brethren of the
St. George's Guild than for any religious associations in the minds of
the people. A gallery, now hidden by the gigantic orchestra built over
it, savours also strongly of the primitive dedication of the building,
else it has retained little more than its architectural beauties of
outline to testify its original consecration. And now to trace its
history, since, wrested from the mendicants, and deprived of its rights
as a cemetery for the wealthy and beneficent dead, it first became the
banquet chamber for municipal feasts, its walls shone gorgeously with
tapestry hangings, and its tables groaned beneath the weight of luscious
dainties. The kitchens and monster chimneys, with their long rows of
spit-hooks and fire-places, that now stand gaping in silent desolation at
the empty larders and boiling-houses in out-of-the-way corners of the
premises, look like giant ghosts of ancient civic gastronomy, lurking
about in dark places, mocking the shadowy forms of latter-day epicurism,
that may be satisfied with the achievements to be performed by modern
"ranges," on ever so improved a scale. But the glories of the St.
George's feast are likewise departed from it; the corn-merchants, to whom
its limits were awhile devoted, have built unto themselves an exchange;
the assizes, once held in it, have been transferred to the little
castellated encrustation that has grown out of one side of the real
castle mound, and reft of all regular employment, the Hall now stands at
the mercy of the city mayor, by him to be lent to whom he wills, for any
or every purpose his judgment may deem consistent with propriety; hence
the same walls echo one day the eloquent pleadings of a league advocate,
the next to the cries of the distressed agriculturist; now to the
advantages of temperance or peace societies, and the musical streams of
eloquence that an Elihu Burritt can send forth, or witness the fires of
enthusiasm a Father Matthew can elicit. Another week shall see it
thronged with eager listeners to the reports of missionary societies,
Church, London, or Baptist; the next with ready auditors to the claims of
the Jews and the heathen calls for Bibles; interspersed among them shall
be lectures on every branch of art and science, and every fashionable or
unfashionable doctrine under the sun that can find advocates, down to
Mormonism or Bloomerism itself. But prior to all in its claims upon the
services of the magnificent old structure stands _music_--why else are
its proportions hid by the unsightly tiers of benches that, empty, make
one long for magic power to waft them all away, but which, once tenanted
by their legitimate occupants, banish every murmur from one's heart and
mind?
Thanks to the enterprise and spirit of the lovers of harmony, this is not
seldom; concerts for the rich and concerts for the poor, for the hundreds
and the "millions," have risen up to meet the calls of humanity for
heart-culture by other inspirations than may be got from alphabets and
primers, or intellectual disquisitions. And, triennially, arrive the
great epochs of the city's glory, when she asserts her claims upon the
world of music, to be classed high among the nursing mother of genius,
and foster-parents of art. Then is the hour of triumph for the Black
Friars' solemn and grand old nave, when its roofs and pillars tremble at
the thunders of the Messiah's "Hallelujah," and resound to the
electrifying crash, uttering "Wonderful;" or when they echo the sweet
melodies of Haydn, Mozart, and Spohr; the refined harmonies of a
Mendellsohn's "Elijah," the magic strains of his "Loreley," or reflect
the wondrous landscape painting of the mystic Beethoven. Nor was the day
a small one when its orchestra gave utterance to the outpourings of a
genius cradled and nurtured in its bosom, whose work is acknowledged to
be great and good, _albeit_ "a prophet" is not without honour save in his
own country. And all praise be given as due to the generous help yielded
to the son of the stranger as to the son of the soil. The world may yet
live to be grateful to the city that in one year brought before it two
such conceptions and creations as "Israel Restored" and "Jerusalem." And
so would we take our farewell of the old "Hall," while our eyes are yet
dazzled with the bright glitter of its thronged benches, galleries, and
aisles, and our ears and hearts vibrating to the mighty "concert of sweet
sounds" and peals of harmony poured forth from the almost matchless
orchestra and benches of choristers, that lend their powers to complete
the glories of the great "Festival."
The festival suggests thoughts on music, its history and progress, and of
the minds that have fostered and directed its growth in this particular
region, so successfully as to have gained for the "Old City" its present
high position in the musical world.
Music and devotion have gone hand-in-hand from the era of the earliest
singing men and singing women of Israel, and the timbrel of Miriam; the
Jewish temple echoed the lofty strains of "David's harp" and the songs of
the "Chief Musician;" from the pagan worship of the Greeks sprung the
Ambrosian chant, and the Christian Church has been the birthplace and
nursery of the grandest conceptions that have flowed from the pen of
inspired genius in every later age. The _antiphonal_ singing of the
earliest choirs, where a phrase of melody, after being sung by one
portion of the choristers, was echoed by others at certain distances, at
a higher or lower pitch, gave rise to the modern fugue. The Pope from
his throne lent his aid to improve the ecclesiastical chant, and gave it
his name.
The oratorio was the Phoenix that arose from the ashes of the "mystery,"
the masses of Palestrina, Handel, Haydn, and Mozart, and Hummel were
responses to the calls of the church. The Reformation made no effort to
sever music from the services of religion; Luther was an enthusiastic
lover of harmony, and himself a composer of psalmody. The annihilations
of the works of art, that banished painting and defaced sculpture, could
not blot out music from the worship of the church. The "Te Deum" and
"Jubilate" outlived the persecution of bishops and clergy, and the nasal
whine of the Puritan conventicle was in itself a recognition of the true
power and place of that noblest of nature's gifts and sciences.
The quiet "Friends" nominally banish it from their form of worship; can
any that have heard the flowing melodies that clothe their exhortations
and prayers, say that it is so? Can any one that ever heard the voice of
Elizabeth Fry doubt that poetry and music are innate gifts, that, once
possessed, no human laws can sever from the utterances of a devotional
spirit? No marvel is it, therefore, that a Cathedral city at all times
is more or less the cradle of musical genius, or that scarce a record of
a great master-spirit of harmony exists, but the office of
"Kapellmeister," or "Organist," is attached to his name.
The Organ, that almost inseparable associate of ecclesiastical music,
seems to have been an instrument of great antiquity; that one of the
Constantines presented one to King Pepin in 757, appears to be an
established fact, and that during the tenth century the use of the organ
became general in Germany, Italy, and England. In Mason's "Essay on
Church Music" is a homely translation of some lines written by Wolstan, a
monk of that period, descriptive of the instrument then known under that
name.
"Twelve pair of bellows ranged in stately row
Are joined above, and fourteen more below;
These the full force of seventy men require,
Who ceaseless toil, and plenteously perspire:
Each aiding each, till all the winds be prest
In the close confines of the incumbent chest,
On which four hundred pipes in order rise,
To bellow forth the blast that chest supplies."
It is presumed that the seventy men did not continue to blow throughout
the performance on this monster engine, but laid in a stock of wind,
which was gradually expended as the organist played; the keys were five
or six inches broad, and must have been played upon by blows of the fist;
the compass did not then exceed more than two octaves; half notes were
not introduced until the beginning of the twelfth century, stops, not
until the sixteenth; from which we may infer, that a real genuine organ,
deserving the name, could not have been manufactured many years prior to
the Reformation; but from the date of its first introduction may be
ascribed the first attempts at the invention of harmony.
It is curious, however, in these days of penny concerts and music for the
million, to look back to that time when the only probable entertainments
of a secular character in which music bore a part, were such as could be
furnished by the _hautboys_, sackbuts, and _recorders_ of half-a-dozen
"waytes," as we find to have been the case in this city in the sixteenth
century, when permission was first granted these performers to play
comedies, interludes, plays and tragedies. Will Kempe mentions these
same _waytes_ with great praise, and their renown may be inferred from
the fact of their being solicited by Sir Francis Drake "to accompany him
on his intended voyage" in 1589, upon which occasion the city provided
them with new instruments, new cloaks, and a waggon to convey their
chattels. The inventory of musical instruments in the possession of the
city in 1622, forms a rather striking contrast to a "band" of the
nineteenth century, consisting as it did of only four "sackbuts," four
"hautboys" (one broken), two tenor cornets, one tenor "recorder," two
counter tenor "recorders," five "chaynes," and five "flagges."
In the seventeenth century, when the country was deluged with civil war,
and overrun with Royalist and Puritan soldiers, music declined, and we
read little concerning it, here or elsewhere, until that age of strife
and commotion had passed away.
In 1709, one of the city "waytes" advertised himself as teacher of the
violin and hautboy, and in 1734 there appeared another advertisement of a
concert to be given, tickets 2_s._ 6_d._, country dancing to be given
gratis after the concert, doors to be open at four o'clock, the
performance to commence at six, "_by reason of the country dancing_."
In the course of the sixteenth century, the psalmody of the Protestant
Church was brought nearly to its present state, and towards the end of
that and commencement of the next century, shone that constellation of
English musicians, whose inimitable madrigals are still the delight of
every lover of vocal harmony. A madrigal differs from a glee, inasmuch
as each of its parts should be sung by several voices; its name
originated in Italy, and was applied to compositions in four, five, or
six vocal parts, adapted to words of a tender character; neither madrigal
nor glee should be accompanied by instruments.
In the Elizabethan age to sing in parts was an accomplishment held to be
indispensable in a well-educated lady or gentleman; and at a social
meeting, when the madrigal books were laid on the table, every body was
expected to take part in the harmony; any person declining from
inability, was regarded with contempt, as rude and ill-bred.
The rapid improvement of music in all its branches during the last
century has been promoted mainly by the various societies, clubs, and
other associations that have sprung up in the metropolis and many large
cities, among which Norwich stands prominently; these have formed a bond
of union between professional musicians and amateurs, mutually
advantageous, by establishing among them a combination of talent and
taste, that tends materially to cultivate the art to which they are
attached. Norwich has produced many great minds, that have done much
towards this work. In the last century the musical world were astonished
by the wonderful precocity of the two young children, Hook and Crotch;
the name of the former as notorious perhaps as much through the literary
fame of his son Theodore, as for his own musical attainments.
It is said that young Hook was able to play pieces at four years of age,
and at six to perform a concerto at a concert, and to have composed the
music for an opera with thirty-six airs, before he was eight years old.
In the course of his life he is said to have written two thousand four
hundred songs, one hundred and forty complete works or operas, one
oratorio, and many odes and anthems. He died in 1813, leaving two sons,
Dr. James Hook, the Dean of Worcester, who died 1828, and Theodore Edward
Hook, the author.
William Crotch, whose name has attained a wider celebrity, was also a
native of the city, the son of a carpenter. His early displays of
musical talent exceed in wonder even those of his fellow-citizen and
co-temporary, Hook; and many curious anecdotes are related of its
manifestation during his infancy. His father seems to have been a
self-taught musician, who without any scientific knowledge had built
himself an organ, upon which he had learned to play a few common tunes,
such as "God save the King," and "Let Ambition fire the mind." About
Christmas 1776, his child William, then only a year and a half old, was
observed frequently to leave his food or play, to listen to his father,
and would even then touch the key note of the tunes he wished to be
played. Not long afterwards, a musical lady came to try the organ, and
after her visit he seems to have made his first attempt to play a
tune--her playing excited him to a painful degree, his mother describing
him as so peevish that she could "do nothing with him." Music had
charms, however, to soothe his baby breast, and he consoled himself by
picking out the air of "God save the King," which in addition to being
his father's most frequent performance, had been also frequently sung as
a lullaby by his maternal nurse. At this time he was _two years and
three weeks old_, truly an infant prodigy! The report of his precocity
gained little credence, until accident confirmed what had previously been
deemed the exaggerations of parental fondness.
His father's employer, passing the house at a time when the elder Crotch
was absent from work on the plea of indisposition, heard the organ, and
fancied that his workman was idle instead of ill; to convince himself, he
went in, and found little Master William performing, and his brother
blowing the bellows. The marvel spread, and attracted such crowds of
auditors, that from that time the hours of his performance were obliged
to be limited. As he grew older his musical attainments rapidly
increased, while at the same time he discovered symptoms of a genius for
drawing, almost equal to that which he had already displayed for music.
When he was twelve years old he did the duty of organist at several
chapels in Cambridge, whence he removed to Oxford, with a view to
entering the church; but he afterwards resumed the musical profession,
and was appointed organist of Christ Church, in 1790. In 1797, he became
professor of music in that university; and in 1799, obtained the degree
of doctor of music. On the establishment of the Royal Academy, in 1823,
he was nominated Principal of that institution, but retired from the
office before his death. Dr. Crotch's great work is the oratorio of
"Palestine," the poetry of which is the prize poem of Bishop Heber. He
was also the author of several anthems, and other pieces of sacred music.
His death occurred suddenly, at the dinner-table, on the 29th of
September, 1847, in the seventy-third year of his age, at the residence
of his son, the Rev. W. R. Crotch, Master of the Grammar School at
Taunton, where he had spent the later years of his life.
There are two points worthy of notice connected with the name and works
of this great man. The country has raised no monument in any of its
cathedrals or churches to his memory, and his greatest work, "Palestine,"
is an oratorio almost entirely neglected. May it not be possible for the
"Old City" that gave him birth to set an example to the rest of the
musical world, by attention to these facts?
Most of the leading minds whose zeal and energy directed the earlier
movements of the various musical societies in this district, are yet
among the living, and the natural dictates of refinement cause us to
shrink from any attempts at their biographies; it is, therefore, with the
deference due to real genius, which needs no praise, that we pass in
silence over the names of the most earnest promoters of the growth and
cultivation of music, especially as developed in the workings of the
Festival Committee, and its important adjunct, the Choral Society. The
names and fame of Sir George Smart and Mr. Edward Taylor, professor of
music at Gresham College, are already too much the property of the world
at large to be reckoned among those whose privacy might be invaded by
comment in these pages; but there are many more, who with them, may from
the centre of that magnificent hall, and the midst of the greatest
triumphs of music that have ever been achieved by its almost unrivalled
choruses and orchestra, feel that "for their monument we must look
around."
And now it might seem but just and right that among the lions of the "Old
City" we should find a place for the manifold ecclesiastical structures
still surviving the downfall of "superstition," and retaining their
legitimate right, as houses of worship. To do justice to the antiquities
or beauties that abound among them is a task beyond our powers, or the
limit of such a work as this; their traceries, their curiously cut flint
work, old carvings, rood lofts, chambers of sanctuary within, and
heaped-up grave-yards without, verily burying the pathways of the
streets, they line in such close succession--their monuments and
epitaphs, quaint, grim, chaste, and uncouth; their steeples, spires, and
towers, round, square, buttressed and bare--their bells musical and
grand, cracked and jangling--their roofs slated, tiled, leaded, patched,
perfect, or crumbling--their names and saintships a labyrinth of mystery
in themselves--would it not fill a volume alone to chronicle even their
leading features, to say nought of the changes they have undergone, the
barter among goods and chattels, the chopping and changing, and massacres
in the painted glass departments,--part of an Abraham and his ass left in
a St. Andrews, the other portions transported to the windows of St.
Stephens; of the ghostly outlines left of old brasses torn up and melted
down by Puritan soldiers and coppersmiths--or the legends that hang about
their shrines and mutilated images? We dare not venture upon the
well-beaten track of archaeologians, topographers, and tourists; our
glance must be cursory and superficial, content to ascertain by its
sweeping survey that treasures of knowledge and stores of information
await the patient and diligent investigations of more learned and
scientific enquirers.
A visit to St. Stephens rewards the archaeologist by a sight of a few old
stalls and a font of early date, while the historian associates with it
the memory of the celebrated Parker, second Archbishop of Canterbury, who
was a native of Norwich, and some say of this parish, but at any rate was
singing pupil of the priest and clerk of this church. Parker's life
occupies an important position in history. The son of "a calenderer of
stuffs," in this city, he was at a very early age left fatherless, and
dependent upon a mother's guidance and direction for his education. Her
superintending care provided him with a variety of masters for the
several branches of learning--reading, writing, singing, and
grammar--each being acquired under a separate teacher. He afterwards
entered Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, whence he was invited to the
magnificent foundation of Cardinal Wolsey's (now Christ Church) College,
Oxford, but preferring to remain at Cambridge, he declined. In 1553, he
was made chaplain to Queen Anne Boleyn, and received from her a special
commission to superintend the education of her daughter Elizabeth. He
was made chaplain to King Henry VIII., after the death of Anne Boleyn,
and continued the same office in his successor's reign; added to which,
he was Rector of Stoke in Essex, Prebend of Ely Cathedral, and
successively Rector of Ashen in Essex, and Birlingham All Saints, in
Norfolk. He was chosen Master of Corpus Christi College in 1544, and
Vice-Chancellor of the University. Happening to be in Norfolk during the
celebrated "Kett's rebellion," he had the courage to go to the rebels'
camp and preach to them out of the oak of Reformation, exhorting them to
moderation, temperance, and submission, which expedition, as we have seen
elsewhere, had well nigh terminated fatally.
In 1550-1, he was put in the commission for correcting and punishing the
new sect of Anabaptists, then sprung up. In Mary's reign he was deprived
of most of his dignities, upon the plea of his being married, and retired
into Norfolk amongst his friends; but upon the succession of his old
pupil, Elizabeth, he was exalted to the dignity of Archbishop of
Canterbury. Her Majesty made several visits to his house at Canterbury.
His efforts to suppress the vague prophecies that were continually being
set up in the various dioceses, and exciting the minds of the people,
made him many enemies among the Puritans, but he still enjoyed the favour
of the Queen. He died in 1576, leaving, amongst numerous charitable
bequests, a legacy to be applied to keeping his parents' monument, in St.
Clement's church-yard, in repair.
St. Peter's Mancroft, the brightest star in the constellation of churches
that illumine the "Old City," has beauties and curiosities of almost
every variety and character to offer for investigation; but perhaps none
so loudly appeal to the senses of the citizens at large as the eloquent
"changes" rung upon its magnificent set of bells, whenever occasion
offers for a display of the fulness and richness of their tone; and,
possibly, their melody is never more appreciated than when it comes forth
in the softened echo of the beautiful muffled peal.
Touching the presence of bells in the church, we have noticed elsewhere
that they were introduced among the incrustations of Pagan worship that
grew up around the early Christian forms, and owed their origin to the
superstition that the sound of metal preserved the soul from the danger
of evil spirits; but there are other curious facts connected with their
history. The Roman Catholic baptised the bell, using holy water, incense
and prayers in the ceremony and according to the missal of Salisbury,
there were godfathers and godmothers, who gave them names.
A strange allegorical signification of bells after their baptism was
written by Durandus, the great Catholic authority, for the mysterious
services of the church. "The bell," he says, "denotes the preacher's
mouth, the hardness of the metal implies the fortitude of his mind; the
clapper striking both sides, his tongue publishing both testaments, and
that the preacher should on one side correct the vice in himself, and on
the other reprove it in his hearers; the band that ties the clapper
denotes the moderation of the tongue; the wood on which the bell hangs
signifies the wood of the cross; the iron that ties it to the wood
denotes the charity of the preacher; the bell-rope denotes the humility
of the preacher's life," &c. &c. The description goes on yet further
into detail; but the analogies between the subjects and their allegorical
representations are so undiscernible, as to make it a somewhat tedious
task to follow it throughout.
But St. Peter's has manifold attractions beyond its bells. It has
brasses and effigies, and monuments of every variety, commemorating the
pious deeds of clergy and laity, warriors and comedians. Its vestry has
pictures and tapestry and quaint alabaster carvings; little chapels
jutting out from the nave like transepts, perpetuate the memory of old
benefactors; and beneath its pavement lie the remains of the great
philosopher Sir Thomas Browne, whose words of rebuke to the sepulchral
ambition of the nameless tenants of monuments that make no record of
those that lie beneath, involuntarily arise to the mind while
contemplating the spot chosen for his last resting place. "Had they made
so good a provision for their names as they have done for their relics,
they had not so grossly erred in the act of perpetuation; but to subsist
in bones, to be but pyramidically extant, is a fallacy of duration." And
again, "to live indeed is to be again ourselves, which being not only our
hope, but an evidence in noble believers; 'tis all one to lie in St.
Innocent's church-yard or the sands of Egypt. Ready to be anything in
the ecstacy of being ever, as content with six foot as the moles of
Adrianus."
Happy philosophy, that could permit him calmly to contemplate the
vicissitudes to which his bones might be subjected, even to the
legitimate possibility of the sanctuary chosen for their resting-place
being actually invaded by the blows of the workmen's pickaxe, as
veritably did occur some few years since, when the curious of the present
generation were thus accidentally afforded an opportunity of cultivating
a personal acquaintance with the anatomical outlines and phrenological
developments of one whose intellectual offspring had been canonized, and
enshrined among the household gods of the learned and the great for more
than a century.
The very slight sketches of eminent characters that are suitable for so
light and general a book as this, may perhaps be legitimately introduced
in the course of a tour among the churches, their _parochial headships_
affording the best facilities for arrangement; but it seems almost
sacrilege to hash up into abridgements or synopses, biographies so
fraught with national and European interest, as are many of those whose
birth-place has been the Old City of Norwich, yet more is impossible
within the compass of the _Rambler's_ pen; and to adopt the alternative
of omitting all mention of such names, would be to blot out some of the
brightest pages from the annals of its history.
Among them, and perhaps the highest upon the pinnacle of fame, is that of
Sir James Edward Smith, the Linnaeus of our country, the concentration of
whose "life and Correspondence" into two bulky volumes, evinces wondrous
powers of discriminating selection, and condensation, in the biographer
who has undertaken the important and onerous task. What, then, can be
effected in the hasty notices of a mere rambler's gleanings? Little
more, if so much, as a bare outline of the leading features in the life
of this brilliant ornament of our city and country, but enough, we trust,
to lead any who have not already acquired a more intimate knowledge of
his personal history, to feel earnest to repair the omission. He was a
native of the parish of St. Peter's Mancroft; and of his education, it is
worthy of note, that he never left the parental roof to enter either a
public or private boarding-school: he is one of the many favourable
testimonies to the advantages of a strictly domestic education, conducted
by aid of the most efficient masters, under the immediate superintendence
of parental care. About the age of eighteen, he devoted himself to the
study of botany as a science, and says himself, "the only book he could
then procure was 'Berkenhout,' Hudson's 'Flora' having become extremely
scarce." He received "Berkenhout" on the 9th of January, 1778, and on
the 11th began to examine the _Ule curopaeus_ (common furze), and then
first comprehended the nature of systematic arrangement, little aware
that, at _that instant_, the world was losing the great genius who was to
be to him so important a future guide, and whose vacant place in the
world of science he was destined so ably to fill. Linnaeus died that
night, January 11th, 1778.
In 1780 Mr. Smith went to Edinburgh, and from thence to London, with a
view to study for the medical profession. During his stay there, he
became intimate with Sir Joseph Banks, an eminent patron of natural
science, through whom he heard that the library and museum of Linnaeus
were for sale, and immediately he entered into negotiations with Dr.
Acrel, of Upsal, concerning it, which ended in his becoming the purchaser
of the whole collection at the price of nine hundred guineas. From
London he went to Leyden, and graduated as a physician at the university
there. From thence he proceeded on a tour, visiting most of the
classical spots and celebrated places in Italy and France, and upon his
return to London devoted himself almost exclusively to pursuits connected
with his favourite science, botany. By the assistance of his personal
friend, the Bishop of Carlisle, one among the many great minds with whom
he held constant communion, he set about establishing the Linnaean
Society. Its first meeting was held in April, 1788, when an introductory
address, "On the Rise and Progress of Natural History," was read by Sir
James, then Dr. Smith, which paper formed the first article in the
"Transactions of the Linnaean Society," a work which has since extended
itself to twenty quarto volumes. In 1792 Dr. Smith was invited to give
instructions in botany to the queen and princesses at Frogmore; and in
1814, received the honour of knighthood from the Prince Regent.
Ill health caused Sir James to return to his native county to recruit his
strength, and there he continued to pursue his literary avocations in
comparative privacy. His "English Botany" is a work consisting of
thirty-six octavo volumes, and contains 2592 figures of British plants.
It is a curious and melancholy coincidence, that the fourth volume of his
"English Flora" reached him on the very last day he ever entered his
library; and he thus had the gratification of seeing the completion of a
work which, in his own estimation, was calculated, beyond all the other
labours of his pen, to establish his reputation as a botanist, and
confirm his erudition as an author.
St. Giles, the next in order of the saintships, in addition to its
architectural beauties, with which we pretend not to "meddle," presents a
few legendary claims to our notice. The effigy of St. Christopher, of a
monstrous size, with his staff sprouting by his side, was originally
painted over the north door, as the patron saint of children presented
for baptism, who generally were brought in at that door. In most
churches where a north door existed, this image or painting of St.
Christopher was wont to appear, depicted on as large a scale as the wall
would permit, in conformity with the legend that he was a saint of noble
and large stature. In the aisle once stood a chapel, altar, and image of
St. Catherine, with a light burning before it, and against one of the
pillars stood a famous rood, called the Brown Rood.
St. Benedict, the patron of monks, has his monument in the form of a
little ancient church with a little tower, round at the bottom and
octagonal at the top, where three little jingling bells give notice of
the hours of prayer.
St. Swithin, that famous prophet of wet weather, has his memorial, too,
not far distant. More have heard the old adage, "If it rain on St.
Swithin's day, there will be rain more or less for forty succeeding
days," than may have cared to trace its origin, which seems involved in
some mystery. One authority tells us that St. Swithin was Bishop of
Winchester, to which rank he was raised by Ethelwulf, the Dane; and when
he died in 865, he was canonized by the pope. He had expressed a desire
to be buried in the open church-yard, and not, as was usual with bishops,
within the walls of the church: his request was complied with; but upon
his being canonized, the monks took it into their heads that it was
disgraceful for a saint to lie in the open church-yard, and resolved to
remove his body into the choir, which was to be done in solemn procession
on the 15th of July. It rained, however, so violently on that day, and
for forty days succeeding, as "had hardly ever been seen," which made
them set aside their design as heretical and blasphemous; and instead,
they erected a chapel over his grave, at which many miracles are said to
have been wrought.
Another writer tells us that "St. Swithin, a holy bishop of Winchester,
about the year 860, was called the weeping St. Swithin, for that, about
his feast, Praesepe and Aselli, rainy constellations, arise _cosmically_,
and commonly cause rain." The legend attached to its name is perhaps
almost the only particular attraction of this little church.
The church of the holy St. Lawrence stands upon the spot of ground that
in ancient days, when Norwich was a fishing town, was the quay or
landing-place for all the herrings brought hither, the tithe of which was
so considerable when it belonged to the bishops of the East Angles, that
when Alfric, the bishop, granted the key staithe, with the adjoining
mansion, to Bury Abbey, about 1038, the abbey, upon building the church,
had a last of herrings reserved to it, to be paid them yearly. This last
of herrings was compounded for by the celerer of the convent, about the
time of Henry the Third, for a pension of forty shillings, which was
annually paid until the time of Henry the Seventh, and then done away
with, on account of the meanness of its profits.
On the sides of the arch of the door in the west are two carvings, one
representing the martyrdom of St. Lawrence, the other that of St. Edmund,
who is seen in a rather mutilated condition, (in more senses than one)
his head lying at some distance in a parcel of bushes, while the Danes
are shooting arrows into his body, alluding to that portion of the legend
which says that when they could not kill him with arrows, Hunguar the
Danish leader ordered them to smite off his head, and carry and throw it
among the thickest thorns of the adjacent wood, which they did; but a
wolf finding it, instead of devouring it, kept it from all beasts and
birds of prey, till it was found by the Christians and buried with his
body, and that in a surprising manner.
In the fifteenth century, three "Sisters of Charity," called the Sisters
of St. Lawrence, dwelt in a tenement by the churchyard. In 1593, the
copes were turned into pall cloths, and in 1643 the painted glass of the
windows was smashed, and other considerable damage done to the ornamental
fittings up of the building.
Near to the church is the well of St. Lawrence, the water of which is now
conveyed to a pump; bearing this inscription upon it:--
This water here caught
In sort, as you see,
From a spring is brought
Three score foot and three.
Gybson hath it sought
From St. Lawrence's well,
And his charge this wrought
Who _now_ here doth dwell.
Thy ease was his cost, not small--
Vouchsafed well of those
Which thankful be, his work to see,
And thereto be no foes.
From St. Lawrence's belfry, the curfew is rung at eight each evening.
St. Gregory's contains an altar tomb, with a long Latin inscription to
the memory of Sir Francis Bacon, a judge in the court of King's bench, in
the time of Charles II.
On the communion table is an inscription to Francis Watson, a pedlar, who
painted and marbled all the pillars of the altar, adorned it, and railed
the front.
St. John's _Madder Market_ owes its distinctive name to the market
formerly held on its north side, for the sale of _madder_, an article
used in dying. Margaret, Duchess of Norfolk, the widow of Thomas Duke of
Norfolk, beheaded by the command of Queen Elizabeth, lies buried in the
choir of the church.
St. Andrews, the second church in point of architectural beauty, stands
upon the site of one founded prior to the Conquest. Its eastern window
bears traces of sad havoc having gone on in the midst of the scriptural
scenes it was intended to depict.
At the east end of the two aisles are doors entering from the porches,
and over them verses.
Over the south aisle door--
This church was builded of Timber, Stone and Bricks,
In the year of our Lord XV hundred and six,
And lately translated from extreme Idolatry
A thousand five hundred and seven and forty.
And in the first year of our noble King Edward
The Gospel in parliament was mightily set forward.
Thanks be to God. Anno Dom. 1547, December.
Over the north aisle door--
As the good king Josiah, being tender of age,
Purged the realm from all idolatry,
Even so our noble Queen, and counsel sage,
Set up the Gospel and banished Popery.
At twenty-four years she began her reign,
And about forty four did it maintain.
Glory be given to God.
There were formerly brass effigies of John Gilbert and his wife, with
_seventeen_ of their children.
St. Peter's Hungate, or Hounds' Gate, owes its name to the fact of the
hounds belonging to the bishop being formerly kept close by. The old
church was demolished in 1458, and the new one, commenced the same year,
was finished in 1460, as appears by the date in a stone on the buttress
of the north door, where there is an old trunk of an oak, represented
without any leaves, to signify the decayed church; and from the root
springs a fresh branch with acorns on it, to denote the new one raised
where the old one stood.
St. Michael at Plea takes its name from the Archdeacon of Norwich holding
his pleas or courts in the parish; it has some curious panel paintings of
the Crucifixion, Resurrection, the Lady of Pity, Judas, John and the
Virgin, St. Margaret and the Dragon, St. Benedict and St. Austin.
In the church of St. Simon and St. Jude, is a curious monument of a
knight in armour, with a number of other figures grouped around the altar
on which he lies. In this parish is the bridge where the "cucking stool"
was wont to be kept, an instrument of punishment for "scolding and
unquiet women," of as ancient origin as the time of the Anglo Saxons; the
offender was seated in a kind of chair, fixed at the end of a plank, and
then _ducked_ in the water; a cheating brewer or baker subjected himself
to a similar degradation.
St. George's Tombland, so called from the burial ground upon which it
stood, has also some curious monuments; near it is a house, commonly
called Sampson and Hercules Court, from two figures that formerly
supported the portico, but which now stand in the court. The house was
formerly owned by Sir John Fastolf, afterwards by the Countess of
Lincoln, and in the time of Henry VII., by the Duchess of Suffolk.
"St. Martin's at the Plain" stands close by the scene of the memorable
battle between the rebels under Kett, where Lord Sheffield fell, and many
other gentlemen and soldiers: the conflict lasted from nine o'clock on
Lammas morning until noon. The World's End lane leads hence to the
dwelling of Sir Thomas Erpingham, long since transformed from a sumptuous
mansion into the abode of poverty, its chambers subdivided and parcelled
out, defaced and disguised by whitewash and plaster, and yet more by the
accumulations of dirt and decay; until it needs the microscopic vision of
an archaeologist to trace even its outline, among such a mass of
confusion and rubbish.
"St. Helen's," which belonged to the monks, is now cut up into three
parts, the choir being turned into lodgings for poor women, part of the
nave and aisles into the same for poor men, while the intermediate
portion is used for divine services. A charity that owns an annual
income of 10,000 pounds, might, we think, find some better arrangements
possible to be made. Kirkpatrick, the celebrated antiquarian, lies
buried here. Over the south entrance to the church are these lines--
The house of God
King Henry the Eight of noble Fame
Bequeathed the City this commodious place,
With lands and rents he did endow the same,
To help decrepit age in woful case,
Edward the Sixth, that prince of royal stem,
Performed his father's generous bequest.
Good Queen _Eliza_, imitating them,
Ample endowments added to the rest;
Their pious deeds we gratefully record,
While Heaven them crowns with glorious reward.
St. Giles' Hospital, to which the church of St. Helen has been united by
the appropriation of its nave and chancel, is a relic of great
antiquity--a memorial of the liberality of Bishop Suffield, who in 1249
founded it, appointing four chaplains to celebrate service there for his
soul, and all poor and decrepit chaplains in the diocese, endowing it
with means to support the same number perpetually, and to lodge thirteen
poor people with one meal a day. There were also appointed afterwards
four sisters, above fifty years of age, to take care of the clothing, &c.
&c. The master and chaplains were to eat, drink and sleep, in one room,
and daily, after grace at dinner before any one drank, the bell was to
ring and the chaplains to go into the choir and sing _Miserere mei Deus_.
There was also an _Archa Domini_, or Lords' Box, from which the poor that
passed by, were daily to be relieved as far as the funds permitted. From
Lady day to the Assumption, at a certain hour the bell was to ring and a
quantity of bread, "enough to repel hunger," to be given to the poor then
present; and "because the house should be properly 'Domus Dei,' or the
house of God, and of the Bishops of Norwich," it was ordained that "as
often as any bishop of the see should pass by, he should go in and give
his blessing to the sick." Edward VI. dissolved the Hospital and gave it
to the city as a house for the poor. A school was also established,
which was afterwards transferred to the Free School. The cloisters of
the old hospital still remain almost entire, and serve as walks for the
pensioners.
St. Edmund, St. James, St. Paul, St. Margaret, all the Saints, _St.
Saviour_, St. Clements the Martyr, _St. Peter Southgate_, and per
_Mountergate_, St. Julian, St. Michael at Plea, at _Thorn_, and
_Coslany_, St. Ethelred, St. John's Sepulchre, and St. John's Timberhill,
St. George, and St. Augustine, fill up the register of ecclesiastical
edifices; each possesses some particular claim to notice, down to the
legend of the Lady in the Oak, that gave a distinctive title to the
church of St. Martin at Oak, where her image once figured in an oak tree
in the churchyard, and wrought wondrous miracles, which caused so much
adoration to be paid to the graven image, that the purgers of idolatry in
good young King Edward's reign, found it needful to displace it from its
high position, and cut down the tree in which it stood.
Among the biographies associated with the various districts over which
these patron saints may be said to hold their reign, are those of the
eminent divine, Dr. Samuel Clarke, of the seventeenth century; Kay, or
Caius, the founder of Caius College, Cambridge; Professors Hooker and
Lindley, the great botanists; William Taylor, Sayer, Sedgwick, Gurney,
Opie, and Borrow, among the literary celebrities of the age; Professor
Taylor and Dr. Bexfield, names known well in the musical world, and many
others, whose lives and works entitle them to be ranked among the leading
characters of their time; while in the medical profession, the names and
fame of Martineau and Crosse have become European. Few of these can we
pause to sketch--many of them are among the number of those whose work is
not yet done; and of others it may be said that their memory is too fresh
in the hearts of those bound to them by chords of affection and
friendship, for a "stranger to intermeddle" therewith.
William Taylor was the friend and correspondent of Southey. It is said,
in his "Life," that he once jocosely remarked, "If ever I write my own
life, I shall commence it in the following grandiloquent manner; 'Like
Plato, like Sir Isaac Newton, like Frederick Leopold, Count Stolberg, I
was born on the 7th of November, and, like Mrs. Opie and Sir James Edward
Smith, I was baptized by the Rev. Samuel Bourn, then the Presbyterian
minister of the Octagon chapel.'" His attainments as a German scholar
were notorious, and his metaphysical writings earned for him a
widely-extended fame. His translations of German theological works, may
be regarded as the first introduction of that school of literature, that
is at this moment deluging our country with the copious streams of
philosophy, whose deep and subtle waters, whether invigorating or
noxious, are spreading themselves through every channel of society in our
land.
William Jackson Hooker, the son of a manufacturer of Norwich, rose to the
rank of Regius Professor of Botany, in the University of Glasgow. In
early life he was spoken of by Sir James Smith as the first cryptogamic
botanist of the time, and his after-works proved the accuracy of the
opinion. His "Muscologia Brittannica," and "Monograph on the Genus
Jungermannia," are unrivalled as guides to the scientific enquirer, and,
with his other works, may be classed among the gems of English
literature. In the course of his rambles in the neighbourhood of his
native city, he discovered, in a fir-wood near Sprowston, that quaint,
curious, one-sided looking little moss, called _Buxbaumia aphylla_,
which, destitute of any visible foliage, rears its little club-like
seed-vessels upon its foot-stalks in the most eccentric possible manner.
The muscologist may search long and often ere a specimen may meet his
eye, even within the precincts of the grove where Dr. Hooker first
discovered it; but many another rare and beautiful contribution to a moss
herbarium shall reward him for his pains, especially the elegant
_Bartramia_, with its exquisitely soft velvet foliage, and globular
seed-vessels, to be met with in such rich abundance in few other soils.
Lindley, the Professor of Botany in the London University, is another
genius raised from the nursery grounds of the Old City; his father having
followed the profession of horticulture at Catton, one of the suburbs of
Norwich.
One more biographical notice must close our list, and with it we make an
end of our chronicles and "Rambles in an Old City."
To those who were among the privileged number of friends, acquaintances,
or even fellow-citizens of Joseph John Gurney, it will be easy to imagine
why so beautiful a subject has been chosen for the closing sketch of our
"pencillings by the way;" and the world at large will see in the name of
the great philanthropist, whose memory sheds a sacred halo over every
spot familiar with the deeds of gentle loving-kindness, tender mercy, and
active benevolence, that marked his earthly career--a meet theme from
which to borrow a ray of glory to brighten the scene of our "Ramblings,"
as the landscape borrows a golden tint from the lingering beams of the
sun that has set beneath the horizon.
As the brother of Elizabeth Fry, her fellow-worker in the field of
usefulness, and her companion in her memorable visits to the prisons of
England, Ireland, Scotland, and the Continent, his history could not have
failed to possess a deep interest, even apart from the individual
characteristics of his bright and beautiful home-life, and the lustre
shed upon his name by its familiar association with those of Clarkson,
Wilberforce, and Buxton, in the cause of slave emancipation.
The third son of John and Catherine Gurney, and sister of Priscilla
Wakefield, he was born at Earlham Hall, August 2d, 1788. It is a
singular fact connected with the name, that one of his ancestors, in
1653, was sent a prisoner to the Norwich gaol, for refusing to take the
oath, and that Waller Bacon, of Earlham, who committed him, resided at
the time in the very Hall which the descendants of the prisoner
afterwards occupied. When Joseph was only four years of age, the family
of eleven children lost the superintending care of their mother, and his
home education mainly devolved upon his three elder sisters, among whom
was Mrs. Fry. Their home was the scene of rich hospitality, dealt out by
their liberal-minded father; and the literary tastes, intellectual
pursuits, and elegant accomplishments, in which every member of the
social group delighted, drew around them a brilliant circle of the
choicest society, to which the late Duke of Gloucester was a frequent and
welcome addition.
The scholastic instruction of Joseph John was at first superintended by a
clergyman, and afterwards matured at Oxford, where he attended the
professor's lectures, and enjoyed many of the advantages of the
university, without becoming a member or subscribing to the thirty-nine
articles.
Such an education naturally tended to create some doubts as to the system
of Quakerism; but after much examination and consideration, his
preference became settled in favour of the views and profession of his
old "Friends;" and consistently with them he lived and died, by no means
finding in them any barrier to the fullest and freest association with
any other body of Christians, or to a personal friendship with the
ecclesiastical bishops of the diocese, with one of whom, Bishop Bathurst,
he was a frequent and esteemed guest; while to Bishop Stanley was left
the melancholy opportunity of bearing a testimony to his public and
private character, in the memorable form of a funeral sermon from the
cathedral pulpit, a tribute of respect unexampled since the days of
George Fox. His life spent in doing good, in preaching as the minister
of the society to which he belonged, in England, Ireland, upon the
Continent, and in America, was full of interest. In the legislative
hall, at Washington, before the assembled members of Congress, his voice
was heard. Louis Philippe, Guizot, and De Stael, were among his auditors
in France; the King of Holland abandoned, through his counsel, the
importation of slave soldiers from the Gold Coast; Vinet at Lausanne,
D'Aubigne in Geneva, and the King of Wirtemberg, held council with him.
To attempt to chronicle his deeds of pecuniary munificence, public and
private, would be an herculean task. The great sums lavished upon public
societies, the world of necessity was made acquainted with, but they
formed but a moiety of the aids furnished from his abundance to the wants
of the needy. He was truly one whose left hand was not suffered to know
the deeds of its fellow. The sick and the poor, at home and abroad, the
industrious and the struggling, the aged and the young--each and all
shared his bounty and loving help, for he was one who _gave_, and did not
_fling_ his charities down from the proud heights of opulence, so that
poverty might blush to pick them up. But the record of his life was
inscribed upon the page of history in characters indelible by the tears
that watered his pathway to the tomb. We have made a faint effort to
paint the last solemn scene that marked the close of the lamented Bishop
Stanley's career, and were almost tempted to place side by side with it
the shade of grief that hung over the city when the great "_Friend_" was
suddenly called home from his labours of usefulness and love upon earth.
Few will ever be able to forget the scene of mourning and sorrow that
followed the unlooked-for event, or the almost unparalleled silence of
woe that was written upon every heart and countenance among the thronging
thousands that attended to pay the last tributes of respect at the grave
of the beloved and honoured philanthropist; when Magistrates and
Artizans, Clergymen and Dissenting Ministers, Churchmen, Independents,
Baptists, Methodists, and Friends, representatives of every grade of
society and shade of religious opinion that the Old City could send
forth, gathered around that lowly spot of earth to drop a tear, and seek
inspiration from the spirit of love that seemed to breathe around the
silent tomb. And who will forget the thrilling prayer offered up from
the lips of the widowed mourner, who fulfilled, in the midst of that
heart-stricken multitude, her measure of obedience to the will of Heaven
and the duty of self-government, by public prayer and thanksgiving. Who
does not rank among the noblest of the many noble sermons of the good
Bishop Stanley, the far-sounding appeal that was sent forth from the
pulpit of his cathedral, "Watchman, what of the night?"--the
commemorating words that have been inseparably linked with the name and
memory of Joseph John Gurney from that hour.
Years have passed since these events occurred, but the remembrance of
them is vivid; the rich legacy bequeathed to the Old City by the holy
life, walk, and conversation of such a man is not soon expended; but
treasured in the sanctuary of many loving hearts, it is nurtured, and
brings forth fruit, fifty, seventy, and a hundred-fold, to the honour and
glory of God, and to immortalize the memory of a faithful servant in the
vineyard of souls.
* * * * *
THE END.
* * * * *
J. BILLING, PRINTER, WOKING, SURREY.
Footnotes
{0} These corrections have been applied in this Project Gutenberg
eText.--DP.
{5} Erasmus Earle, a celebrated lawyer.
{223} A place of judgment.
NEW WORKS
PUBLISHED BY
MR. NEWBY,
30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE.
* * * * *
In One Vol. 5s. Second Edition.
THE ROCK OF ROME.
BY
AUTHOR OF "VIRGINIUS," &c.
"Mr. Knowles appears to be only a believer in his Bible, as he comes
forward in this work with an earnestness which all true-hearted men will
appreciate."--_Examiner_.
"It is a vivid and eloquent exposure of the lofty pretensions of the
Church of Rome."--_Morning Herald_.
"It should be in the libraries of all Protestants."--_Morning Post_.
* * * * *
In Two Vols. 1 pound 1s. cloth.
THE LIFE OF PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
BY
Captain Medwin,
AUTHOR OF "CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON."
"This book must be read by every one interested in literature."--_Morning
Post_.
"A complete life of Shelley was a desideratum in literature, and there
was no man so competent as Captain Medwin to supply it."--_Inquirer_.
"This book is sure of exciting much discussion."--_Literary Gazette_.
* * * * *
In Two Vols. demy 8vo. 1 pound 10s. cloth.
_With numerous plates_.
THE SHRINES AND SEPULCHRES OF THE
OLD AND NEW WORLD.
BY
R. R. Madden, M.R.J.A.
"Mr. Madden's work displays both extensive reading and extensive travel.
He has been a pilgrim in many lands, and seems to have made use of his
eyes and _ears_."--_Athenaeum_.
"To the antiquarian and moralist, the archaeologist and student of the
sacred volume, these volumes must prove a treasury of most recondite
erudition."--_Telegraph_.
"Dr. Madden evinces the research of a true _helluo
librorum_."--_Freeman's Journal_.
"These are erudite, curious, and most agreeable volumes."--_Warder_.
"The historical student will find it of rare interest."--_The Nation_.
* * * * *
In One Vol. 4to. 1 pound 1s. Second Edition.
_Illustrated with fifty-four subjects by George Scharf_, _Junr._
THE MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE
GREEKS.
BY
Theodore Panofka of Berlin.
_The Times_ says: "This new publication may be added to a series of works
which honourably characterize the present age, infusing a knowledge of
things into a branch of learning which too often consisted of a knowledge
of mere words, and furnishing the general student with information which
was once exclusively confined to the professed archaeologist. As a last
commendation to this elegant book, let us add that it touches on no point
that can exclude it from the hands of youth."
"It will excellently prepare the student for the uses of the vases in the
British Museum."--_Spectator_.
"Great pains, fine taste, and large expense are evident. It does
infinite credit to the enterprising publisher."--_Literary Gazette_.