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THE
Picture Gallery
EXPLORED.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
Page 12.
Page 53.
London: Published by Harvey & Darton, Mar. 1, 1825.]
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THE
PICTURE GALLERY
Explored;
OR,
AN ACCOUNT OF VARIOUS ANCIENT CUSTOMS AND MANNERS:
INTERSPERSED WITH
ANECDOTES AND BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES
OF
EMINENT PERSONS.
[Illustration: DE PLANOIN ALTUM]
London:
PUBLISHED BY HARVEY AND DARTON,
GRACECHURCH STREET.
1825.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREFACE.
----------
ALTHOUGH nothing is original in the following little work, except the
dialogue, which was necessary as a connecting link; yet the compiler
trusts, that it will be found to contain, in a small compass, much
useful and interesting information. In selecting the anecdotes from
writers of acknowledged merit and veracity, she has endeavoured to
avoid, as much as possible, the beaten track, and to introduce names and
points of character, not usually presented to the notice of children.
She still remembers, with pleasure, the avidity with which, when quite
young, she perused _true_ stories, and how anxiously she sought for
further particulars of those illustrious individuals, who either gained
her affectionate admiration by their exemplary virtues, or elated her
young imagination by the brilliancy of their talents or their
achievements.
Such biographical sketches are introduced, as were thought likely to
awaken emulation, or to lead forward in the path of piety and knowledge.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE
PICTURE GALLERY.
----------
CHAPTER I.
“WELL, Ann,” said Susan Spencer, “it really is fixed for us to visit
cousin Robert; for mamma has given orders to Hayward to prepare our
clothes, and we are to set out next Monday.”
“I cannot think what can induce mamma to visit him just now,” answered
Susan: “he is such an oddity, I hear, and lives so very retired. Mary
Morgan told me, (and Mary knows him well,) that he rarely goes into
parties; and she laughed immoderately, when she said that the heavy
little windows, and massy doors of the old mansion, always reminded her
of a monastery; and, for her part, she thought it would be better to
turn it into one, people it with monks, and make Mr. Wilmot superior of
the order. I cannot tell you half that she said; but it was so droll,
that we all laughed with her.”
“I dare say you did,” replied Susan; “and I think it excessively
provoking to be immured there, when the Drummonds, and the Williams’s,
and the Grovenors are going to the seaside. It vexes me to think how
Miss Drummond will boast, when she returns, of the company she has been
introduced to, the new fashions she has seen, and how often her music
and dancing were praised; whilst you and I must sit by, without having a
word to say, or being able to relate any thing but the histories of the
old rooks, that perched in the high trees close to the house, or——or——”
But here they were interrupted by the entrance of their mother; and as
they well knew that observations of this kind would be displeasing to
her, they turned the conversation to some indifferent subject.
Susan and Ann Spencer were the daughters of a military officer, whose
delicate state of health had obliged his wife to accompany him abroad;
leaving, with reluctance, her two little daughters to the care of their
paternal grandmother. They were good-tempered, affectionate, and
animated; but the mistaken fondness of the old lady, had not only
indulged their weaknesses, and forbade any correction of their errors,
but had introduced them into all her parties; so that their little heads
were filled with the love of dress and visiting.
The death of their father in India, and the return of their mother,
after an absence of six years, suddenly put a stop to these injudicious
plans; and Susan and Ann had been under their mother’s care about three
months, when the preceding dialogue took place.
Mrs. Spencer was a woman of too sincere piety, and too good an
understanding, to allow her grief, deep as it was, for her departed
husband, to interfere with her duties towards her children. She knew
that the best test she could give of affection to his memory, was to
render them worthy of his name, and, if possible, inheritors of his
virtues. She loved them with the tenderest affection, but she was not
blind to their faults; and whilst she strove to gain their confidence,
she endeavoured, by gentle means, to counteract their foibles.
Whilst she was endeavouring to arrange her plans, she received an
invitation from her cousin, Mr. Wilmot, an elderly gentleman, and the
guardian of her children, to pay him a visit of some months; and knowing
that she should receive from him that advice and co-operation, which
long experience, a sound judgment, and a well-informed mind could
bestow, she hesitated not to accept so desirable a proposal.
On the following morning the party left Brook-street, and in a few days
reached the place of their destination, without the occurrence of any
material incident on the road. They were received with the hospitality
and politeness inseparable from benevolence and good-breeding; and even
Susan and Ann, prejudiced as they were, could not help silently
allowing, that he was neither quite so ugly, nor so old-fashioned, as
they expected.
The evening passed cheerfully in detailing the little events of their
journey; and when, as their cousin took them by the hand, in bidding
them good night, he kindly said, “I have known both your parents from
infancy, and hope that I shall find, on further acquaintance, that you,
my dear girls, are equally worthy of my love,” they involuntarily
dropped their best curtseys, and returned his salutation with their most
good-humoured smiles.
Mr. Wilmot was fond of children, and he devised many schemes for Susan’s
and Ann’s amusement. “When we are become better known to each other,”
said he to Mrs. Spencer, “I shall submit some plans for their
instruction; till then, allow me to dissipate the gloomy ideas that, I
dare say, have crept into their minds, from the notion of visiting a
recluse old man.” And so completely did he succeed, that, in a few
weeks, the two girls wondered that they could ever have imagined such an
agreeable visit could be a dull one.
The summer was now in its beauty, and a party was proposed for an
excursion on the water. Mr. Wilmot, who had entered into more company
since the arrival of his relations, readily acquiesced in the invitation
of a neighbouring family, that he and the ladies should partake of the
proposed pleasure. The little girls anticipated with youthful impatience
the happy morning; and scarcely had day-light entered their chamber,
when, jumping out of bed, they drew aside their curtains, in the hope of
beholding a resplendent day; and their disappointment was extreme, in
finding it pouring with rain, without the slightest prospect of its
cessation.
With heavy hearts they descended to the breakfast-table; and after
watching for some time the continued pattering of the rain, Susan at
last exclaimed, “How mortifying! I cannot think what we shall do with
ourselves to-day.” Mr. Wilmot smiled, and said, “I hope, my dear, all
our stores of amusement are not exhausted, even though the elements are
unpropitious to our excursion. When you have finished your bread and
butter, I fancy this key (drawing at the same time one from his pocket,)
will unlock some little store of entertainment.”
“Oh, Sir, we will be ready in a few minutes,” said the girls,
brightening up at this intelligence; and eagerly dispatching the remains
of their meal, they followed their kind cousin through the hall, till he
stopped at an oaken door, to which he applied the key; and in an instant
they found themselves within a spacious and handsome PICTURE GALLERY.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAP. II.
----------
“STOP, stop, my dears,” cried Mr. Wilmot, in answer to the girls’
repeated enquiries: “one question, if you please, at a time. What did
you say, Ann?”
“I was wondering, Sir,” answered Ann, “that you should have, amongst
this beautiful collection of paintings, an engraving of London Bridge: I
have passed over it repeatedly, and never saw any thing remarkable in
it.”
“Perhaps not, my dear,” said Mr. Wilmot; “but might not this proceed
from your ignorance of the events connected with it. For my own part, I
never cross it without musing on the ‘mighty past,’ and contrasting the
eventful scenes that have taken place either upon it, or in its
immediate vicinity, with the present happy state of commercial bustle
and national peace.”
“And pray, Sir, what were those events?” asked Ann: “when did they take
place, and when was the bridge built? If it is not too much trouble,
perhaps you will have the kindness to relate to us a few of these
particular circumstances.”
“Certainly, my love,” answered Mr. Wilmot; “and in endeavouring to give
you the information you desire, I trust you will find it not only a
detail of dates, but a chain of interesting anecdotes; which have,
moreover, for you, Susan, the additional charm of being all _true_. And
now, without any further preface, I shall inform you, that the first
notice of the existence of a bridge occurs in the laws of Ethelred,
which fix the tolls of vessels coming to Billingsgate _ad pontem_.
Pennant remarks that it could not be prior to 993, when Unlaf the Dane
sailed up the river as high as Staines, without interruption; nor yet
subsequent to the year 1016, in which Ethelred died, and the great
Canute, king of Denmark, when he besieged London, was impeded in his
operations by a bridge, which even at that time must have been strongly
fortified, to oblige him to have recourse to the vast expedient I shall
tell you of. He caused a prodigious ditch to be cut on the south side of
the Thames, at Rotherhithe or Redriff, a little to the east of
Southwark; which he continued at the south end of the bridge, in the
form of a semicircle, opening into the western part of the river.
Through this he drew his ships, and effectually completed the blockade
of the city. Evidences of this great work were found in the place called
Dock Head, near Redriff. In digging this dock, in 1694, fascines (or
faggots) of hazel and other brush-wood, fastened down with stakes, were
discovered; and large oaken planks, and numbers of piles, have been met
with in ditching, in other adjacent parts.
“Previous to the erection of the bridge, a ferry had long been
established, on or near the site. Some historians assert, that the first
stone bridge was built or commenced in the reign of the empress Maude;
but during the boisterous era of her brief dominion, and her incessant
struggle for power with king Stephen, it may be supposed that she had
little time for beautifying the city.
“Pennant and other antiquarians inform us, that the first stone bridge
was built in the reign of John, by Peter, curate of St. Mary Cole
Church, a celebrated architect of that period: it proved the work of
thirty-three years; and Peter dying in the interim, was buried in the
chapel, which he had constructed in one of the piers, in honour of St.
Thomas.
“Solidity appears to have been the chief object of the artist; and to
accomplish this object, all other considerations were disregarded or
sacrificed. It would be superfluous to descant on the well-known defects
of the foundation of London Bridge: they survive to this day, though not
to the same extent as formerly. You will be surprised to hear, that the
bridge was crowded with houses, badly constructed, which leaned in a
terrific manner, and were obliged to be propped with timber, which
crossed in arches from the roofs, to keep the buildings together, and to
prevent them from falling into the river. Dismal confined residences,
immersed in dirt and dissonance, for ever assailed by the din of carts
and rumbling over the narrow pavement; the clamours of watermen, the
rush of falling waters, and the frequent shrieks of drowning wretches,
whelmed in the cataract below: to these horrors, were added, at
intervals, the calamities of fire and pestilence.
“A conflagration burst out on the south-west side: the bridge was
instantly covered with multitudes, who rushed out of the city to
extinguish the flames. Whilst engaged in this charitable office, the
fire seized the other end, and hemmed in the crowd. Above three thousand
persons perished: those who escaped the flames, were swallowed by the
waves; and the fire above was only less insatiable than the deluge
beneath. Originally there were three openings on each side of the
street, decorated with balustrades, to give the passengers a view of the
water and the shipping.
“In one of these a draw-bridge was contrived, useful either by way of
defence, or for the admission of vessels into the upper part of the
river. This was protected by a strong tower, which being well armed and
manned, occasioned the repulse of Fauconbridge, in 1471, in his wild
attempt upon the city, at the head of a lawless banditti, under pretence
of rescuing the unfortunate Henry the Sixth, at that time a prisoner in
the Tower in London. Sixty houses on the bridge were burnt in the
desperate attack, and no less desperate defence. A second conflict took
place during the ill-conducted insurrection of Sir Thomas Wyatt, in the
reign of Queen Mary; and the check which that rash adventurer received,
in endeavouring to force the bridge, brought on a series of disasters
which ended in the total annihilation of his disorganized force. He, and
about sixty of his followers, were executed, and their heads gibbeted in
the most public parts of the city. So late as the year 1598, Hentner,
the German traveller, enumerated above thirty heads, which he had
counted with a pathetical accuracy; and the old map of the city, 1597,
represents them in horrible clusters.”
“How dreadful such exhibitions must have been!” said Susan.
“Yes, my dear, it must have been revolting to every humane mind: and I
gladly turn your attention from the contemplation of this frightful
spectacle, to the romantic exploits of Edward Osborne, apprentice to Sir
William Hewit, cloth-worker, who, about the year 1536, was an inhabitant
of one of the perilous houses on the bridge. A maid-servant, playing
with his only daughter in her arms, at a window over the water, dropped
the child: death seemed inevitable; for few escaped the whirlpools
below, and still fewer were daring enough to hazard their own lives, in
the fearful chance of saving another’s; but young Osborne lost not a
moment in considering the risk, but plunged gallantly into the torrent,
and brought the rescued infant safely to land. His intrepid valour met
its due reward: when the young lady attained womanhood, she paid her
preserver with her heart. Several persons of rank asked her hand in
marriage; and the earl of Shrewsbury, representative of the noble family
of Talbot, became a suitor to the merchant’s heiress. But, undazzled by
the title which courted her acceptance, with the tender devotedness to
her first affection, that renders woman’s love so pure and holy, she
kept her faith to her more humble lover; and Sir William, grateful for
the precious blessing of a daughter endued with one of the sweetest
attributes of feminine virtue, generously gave her to him who best
deserved the boon. Edward Osborne proved no common man: he took the tide
of fortune at the flood, and became the founder of a family destined to
obtain the highest honours in the state. The duke of Leeds sprung from
this auspicious union.”
“I am glad this brave young man succeeded so well,” said Ann. “Have you
any more anecdotes to tell us, Sir?”
“A melancholy tale,” continued Mr. Wilmot, “is connected with the annals
of London Bridge. Amidst the multitudes who have found a grave in the
dangerous abyss which yawns beneath, one voluntarily sought in it a
resting-place, and oblivion for a spirit deeply wounded by the
ingratitude of a friend. The son of Sir William Temple, the bosom
counsellor of William of Nassau, yet the honest adviser of his
ill-starred master, James the Second, when his father declined to take a
share in the new government, accepted the office of secretary of war.
His interest procured the release of captain Hamilton, confined in the
Tower for high treason, under his promise that he would repair to
Tyrconnel, then in arms for king James in Ireland, and persuade him to
submit. When arrived in that country, this faithless friend immediately
joined the rebels, and led on a regiment to the attack of king William’s
troops. The taunts of rival courtiers, the unfortunate termination of
his endeavours to serve his sovereign; and, above all, the sting of that
barbed arrow, winged by the hand of one whom he had so loved and
trusted, threw him into a profound melancholy; and though the king was
fully convinced of his innocence, he possessed not fortitude to sustain
the mental pang. On the 14th of April, 1689, he hired a boat on the
Thames, and directed the waterman to shoot the bridge: at that instant
he flung himself into the cataract; and having filled his pockets with
stones, to prevent all chance of safety, instantly sunk.
“He left a note in the boat, in explanation of the motives which led to
the fatal resolution, to this effect: ‘My folly in undertaking what I
was unable to perform, has done the king and kingdom a great deal of
prejudice. I wish him all happiness, and abler servants than John
Temple.’
“Deeply as we must lament the wrongs and sufferings of this unfortunate
gentleman, we cannot help deploring still more his melancholy end. ‘Thou
shalt not kill,’ is a sacred and imperative command, equally involving
self-destruction with murder. And, although the spirit may be goaded to
agony, yet insanity can alone apologize for suicide. Let us hope, that
in this instance, it was temporary mental aberration that led to the
fatal act.
“But to return to the narrative of London Bridge. The church of St.
Magnus, at the bottom of Fish-street Hill, is a memorial of the
foresight and sagacity of Sir Christopher Wren. The houses on the
bridge, at the time that this building was erected, projected beyond it,
and reached the church, when they became too great a nuisance to be
tolerated, and were taken down. The foot-path to the bridge was
obstructed by the tower of St. Magnus, so that travellers were obliged
to traverse the carriage-road. Unwilling to endure the continuance of
this inconvenience, a meeting was held to consult on the propriety of
cutting a passage through the wall. This expedient was considered to be
extremely hazardous; but no other being practicable, it was determined
to try it. The workmen, on commencing their operations, found a complete
and perfect arch, which this great architect, foreseeing the alterations
which time would render necessary on the bridge, had provided for the
convenience of posterity. When the present bridge shall be taken down,
passengers will have to rejoice at the increased convenience and comfort
that a new erection may afford; but the antiquary will sometimes heave a
sigh over the destruction of this silent memorial of days long passed
away.”
“Pray, Sir,” said Susan, when Mr. Wilmot paused, “who was Sir Thomas
Wyatt, of whom you spoke in the early part of your account?”
“Sir Thomas Wyatt, of Allingham Castle in Kent,” replied Mr. Wilmot,
“was the son of the poet, wit, and courtier of that name. He was once
distinguished for his zealous loyalty, and is said to have been also a
catholic, a peculiarly acceptable circumstance in the reign of queen
Mary, herself a rigid Papist. Though allied in blood to the Dudleys, not
only had he refused, to Northumberland, his concurrence in the
nomination of Jane Grey, but without waiting to see which party would
prevail, he had proclaimed queen Mary in the market-place at Maidstone;
for which instance of attachment he had received her thanks. But Wyatt
had been employed, for several years, on embassies to Spain; and the
intimate acquaintance he had acquired of the principles and practices of
its court, filled him with such horror, that, on the intended marriage
of Mary with Philip, he incited his friends and neighbours to rebellion.
For this unguarded and very wrong step, he justly suffered the
punishment of the laws. Other charges were adduced; and it was said,
(how truly cannot now be ascertained,) that it was the intention of the
conspirators to dethrone Mary, and place her sister Elizabeth on the
throne, having first married her to the earl of Devonshire. These latter
accusations might be groundless; but when a man permits himself to take
up arms against his sovereign, he cannot say, ‘So far will I go, and no
further.’”
“Thank you, Sir,” said Susan, when Mr. Wilmot concluded: “I hope all
your anecdotes are not finished.”
“Amongst the names that I have enumerated,” replied Mr. Wilmot, “I
forgot to mention Sir William Wallace, who was hanged and quartered in
Smithfield, in 1305, and his head stuck upon a pole fixed upon London
Bridge.”
“Dear Sir,” said Susan, “what crime had he committed? and who was he?”
“His only crime, my dear,” answered the old gentleman, “was
magnanimously defending his country against the ambitious designs of our
king Edward the First. But to answer to your second question fully, I
must enter first into a few particulars.
“One of the enterprises that presented itself to the ambition of the
martial Edward, was the conquest of Scotland; a country which he was
desirous of annexing to his hereditary dominions, as Ireland and Wales
had already been; or, at least, of reducing it to a state of dependance
on the English crown. A dispute arose about this time, between the
competitors for the crown of Scotland, John Baliol and Robert Bruce,
whose claims were nearly equal, and whose parties were almost of equal
strength.
“To avoid the horrors of a civil war, the chiefs determined that the
question should be referred to the king of England, for arbitration.
“This appeal furnished Edward with the occasion he had long desired, of
laying claim to the sovereignty of Scotland. He endeavoured, in vain, to
establish his right by precedents, arguments, and diplomatic reasonings.
None of these availed to produce conviction in the minds of the Scotch,
till they were backed by a powerful army! Judgment was at last given in
favour of Baliol, though clogged with the condition, that he should take
the oath of allegiance to the king of England. But this unhappy prince
soon found, that, instead of being a sovereign, he was really a slave.
To remind him of his dependance on the crown of England, Edward cited
him, on every trifling occasion, to his court, and required him to renew
his homage continually. This royal vassal was summoned six times in the
course of the year, to appear before the king in parliament, and answer
to complaints lodged against him; and, on some of these occasions, he
was treated with the greatest indignity. Averse as was this prince from
war, he could not submit to such degradation, but secretly prepared to
shake off a yoke which had proved so galling. An open rupture would
probably have immediately ensued, had not the attention of Edward been
withdrawn from the affairs of Scotland, by a war with France, in which
he found himself suddenly involved. A scuffle which had taken place
between the crew of a Norman and English vessel, involved the nations to
which they belonged in a destructive war, which raged with great fury
for a considerable time, and in which torrents of human blood were
wantonly shed.
“In order to avert the storm of war from his own dominions, the French
king made common cause with Baliol of Scotland, and encouraged him to
assert his independence; and Edward immediately suspended his
continental operations, that he might lend his whole strength to the
conquest of Scotland, and the subjection or expulsion of its sovereign.
“The Scottish chiefs, who had witnessed with indignation the degradation
of their king and country, gathered all their forces; and every thing
indicated the approach of a tremendous conflict. But as yet they wanted
a leader of sufficient courage and patriotism, around whose banner they
might rally with confidence. Baliol made a feeble effort to preserve his
crown; but was at length utterly defeated by the earl of Warienne, in
the battle of Dunbar, after which he surrendered himself to Edward, who
committed him to the Tower of London, where the unfortunate prince
languished several years in solitary confinement.
“Nor was the severity of the king confined to the person of the fallen
monarch. Many of the nobility of Scotland were sent into England, and
immured in different castles; the ensigns of royalty were carried off,
with all the contents of the Scottish treasury; and the most important
affairs, both civil and military, confided to Englishmen.
“Thus Scotland wore, for a time, the appearance of a conquered country;
and it is not improbable that Edward flattered himself, that these hardy
sons of the north were completely brought into subjection. If such,
however, were his expectations, he was soon undeceived; for whilst the
king was carrying on the continental war, for the recovery of those
possessions which had formerly belonged to the English crown, a
revolution suddenly broke out in Scotland, which was stirred up by a
chief of great intrepidity and inflexible patriotism. This celebrated
chieftain was Sir William Wallace, whose virtues and heroic deeds make
so conspicuous a figure in the annals of Scotland, and whose name well
deserves to be enrolled amongst the patriots and martyrs of former
generations.
“This generous chief, feeling yet more acutely for the oppressed state
of his country, than for his personal wrongs, gathered around him a
small but valiant band, which harassed the English army in all its
movements, and not unfrequently attacked, with success, detachments of
the army, far superior in number to themselves. The reputation, and
consequently the followers of Wallace, increased daily; until, at
length, he was able to give battle to the earl of Surry, who commanded
an army of forty thousand veteran soldiers, and he defeated him, with
great loss, in the celebrated battle of Stirling. Following the tide of
success, which had set in so strongly in his favour, Wallace drove the
English before him, out of Scotland, penetrated into the border
counties, took possession of several English fortresses of great
strength, and returned laden with the spoils of victory. Edward was
informed of these disasters, while prosecuting a war in Flanders, and
lost no time in repairing to the north of England, with all the troops
he could collect. In a short time he found himself at the head of an
army, containing upwards of eighty thousand infantry and seven thousand
cavalry. Thus powerfully reinforced, he marched forward to meet the
enemy, who were encamped near Falkirk. A tremendous battle ensued, in
which, after prodigies of valour performed on both sides, the English
were completely victorious. But notwithstanding the overwhelming forces
of the English monarch, and the divided state of their own country, the
Scottish patriots were not deterred from persisting in the attempt to
regain their independence, however hopeless it might appear. They
rallied again and again, after repeated defeats and losses, until, at
length, the principal nobility of Scotland, moved by jealousy of each
other, and corrupted by the flatteries of Edward, deserted, and finally
betrayed, their gallant leader. The satisfaction of Edward was too great
to be concealed, when he learned that Wallace had been delivered into
his hands, by the treachery of Sir John Monteith, one of his own
countrymen: unmindful of the generosity which had distinguished his
youth, he now breathed revenge against his fallen adversary, and ordered
him to be conducted to London, where he was publicly executed as a
traitor, though he had never been a subject of the English crown.”
“Oh, how unjust,” said Susan. “Do tell us some more anecdotes.” “Oh,
pray do,” said Ann.
“I am sorry to refuse you,” answered Mr. Wilmot; “but it is two o’clock,
and it is time to join your mamma. Besides,” continued he, smiling, “we
should even use our rational pleasures with moderation, if we mean to
continue the enjoyment of them.”
“Well, then, dear Mr. Wilmot, you will let us come soon again,” cried
the girls.
“Yes, my dears,” he replied. “But see, the sun is shining: we can take a
little walk before dinner: it will refresh you.”
The party then left the gallery.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAP. III.
----------
AS it is not my intention to enter so fully into the history of Susan
and Ann, as it is to relate the _true stories_ they heard from Mr.
Wilmot, I shall only just tell my young readers, that the following day
proving fine, they enjoyed the promised excursion on the water. The
weather now becoming very sultry, and the children unable to take their
morning walks, their mother and Mr. Wilmot, who sought to mingle
instruction with amusement, proposed that they should spend an hour or
two, in the middle of every day, in the picture gallery.
The two little girls were delighted with this proposition, and followed
with alacrity their good-humoured conductor, as he kindly led the way.
When they had entered the room, Mr. Wilmot stopped before a fine sketch
of an entrance into Oxford; and whilst pointing out to the children the
college at which he had been educated, he enquired whether they had ever
been told who were the first founders of the university.
The children answering in the negative, Mr. Wilmot proceeded to tell
them that it was founded in the year 886[1], in the second year after
St. Grimbald’s coming over to England. Its first regents and readers in
divinity were, St. Neot, an abbot and eminent professor of theology; and
St. Grimbald, an eloquent and most excellent interpreter of the Holy
Scriptures; grammar and rhetoric were taught by Asser, a monk of
extraordinary learning; logic, music, and arithmetic, by John, a monk of
St. David’s; and geometry and astronomy by another John, a monk and a
colleague of St. Grimbald, a man of acute wit and immense erudition.
“These lectures,” says the annalist, “were often honoured with the
presence of the most illustrious and invincible king Alfred, whose
memory, to every judicious taste, shall be sweeter than honey.” From
this small beginning arose this now celebrated university, which is at
once the ornament and pride of the land.
Footnote 1:
See Camden’s Britannica.
A few observations made by Mrs. Spencer, who had joined the party, led
Mr. Wilmot to give the following sketch of the progress of Christianity,
from its first introduction into this country, together with the origin
and establishment of the protestant religion.
“Various are the opinions,” said he, “entertained respecting the precise
period when, or by whom, Christianity was first introduced into this
happy island. Nor can it tend to our improvement, though it might
gratify our curiosity, to know, whether St. Paul, when he visited the
‘western isles,’ included England; or whether his immediate
predecessors, or followers, preached the ‘glad tidings of salvation’ to
the natives. It is sufficient for us to know, that the gospel found its
way hither some time in the _first_ century; since, in the persecution
of the Christians, by the cruel and tyrannical Nero, in the year 64,
many of them fled hither for an asylum. Its progress in Great Britain,
during the _three_ first centuries, is certainly involved in some
obscurity; though it probably increased during the _fourth_ century, as
we find three English bishops present, at the council held at Arminium,
respecting the Arian controversy.
“About this period the Saxons, having subdued the country, pursued, with
unrelenting cruelty, the Christians: multitudes of whom were put to
death, and thousands sought and found a refuge in the mountains of
Wales. History has stamped the character of our countrymen in this age
with infamy. From the sovereign to the meanest of his subjects,
licentiousness and gross immorality abounded; and it is cheering to turn
from this darkened era, to the labours of the celebrated St. Augustine,
and forty other monks, who, having been sent from Rome, for the purpose
of converting our island to the faith, succeeded in persuading the Anglo
Saxons to embrace Christianity, about the year 590. On Christmas-day,
king Ethelbert and ten thousand of his subjects were baptized; and
though, amongst this crowd of professed converts, there is reason to
fear that few possessed more than the name of Christian, we may yet
believe there were some on whom the ‘day-star’ had not risen in vain.
“In the _seventh_ century our island had almost universally received the
Christian religion: popish superstition had, however, unhappily mixed
itself with the pure faith, and increased rapidly. One great source of
corruption in the clergy, was the practice that now prevailed of
persuading people to relinquish their property to them, and go on
pilgrimage.
“On the death of Augustine, who had been consecrated the first
archbishop of Canterbury, Laurentius succeeded to the vacant see; and,
through his instrumentality, king Edbald was not only converted, but
promoted the gospel by every means in his power.
“The first Saxon king who completely cast _all_ his ‘idols to the moles
and to the bats,’ was Ercombert, the son of Edbald, who reigned in 640.
“It is impossible to contemplate this era of our national history,
without regretting the superstitious, and even idolatrous rites, which
were interwoven with the profession of the gospel made by our
forefathers: yet there is no doubt that genuine religion was possessed
by many, and Great Britain, at this period, was allowed the honour of
enlightening several of the neighbouring northern nations.
“In the _eighth_ century, the pope had obtained such influence, that he
exalted himself not only above every created being, but laid claim to
prerogatives and powers which belong to Omnipotence alone. The
distinguishing doctrines of the gospel were hid under a mass of
ceremonious observances: pardon for sin was to be purchased at the hands
of the priests; and immense sums were raised, by paying for masses, to
deliver the souls of the dead from purgatory.
“Still more lamentable was the state of religion in the _ninth_ century.
But Divine Providence, at this melancholy season, raised up a
‘nursing-father’ to the English church, in the person of king Alfred,
who seems to have ‘feared the Lord from his youth,’ having early
habituated himself to prayer. He was remarkable for his learning, as I
have before told you. He died in the year 900, and was buried at Hyde
Abbey in Winchester.
“Historians are all agreed that, in the _tenth_ century, scarcely a
vestige of true piety could be found. It was called ‘an iron age, barren
of all goodness—a leaden age, abounding in all wickedness.’
‘Christianity,’ to borrow the words of Melancthon, ‘during the middle
ages, was become a mere compound of philosophy and superstition.’ ‘What
religion did survive,’ says an admirable author, ‘was confined to a
few—was immured in cloisters—was exhausted in quibbles—was wasted in
unprofitable subtleties—was exhibited with little speculative clearness,
and less practical clearness.’ Yet, even in this dreary age, one faint
spark of light is discoverable. Bernard and Guthebald, two of the
natives of Britain, went as missionaries to Norway, where they
successfully preached the gospel, which extended itself from thence to
the Orkneys, Greenland, and Iceland.
“Religion and literature both rather improved in the _eleventh_ century.
The celebrated speech of William the Conqueror, after he became king of
England, has been often repeated. This dauntless monarch refused to be
considered as the vassal of the pope. ‘I hold my kingdom,’ said he,
‘from none but God and my sword.’ This king was a great encourager of
learning.
“In the _twelfth_ century Oxford became celebrated as the seat of
learning. The clergy now boldly claimed exemption from civil
jurisdiction, and their _right_ to appeal on all occasions to the pope.
To these extravagant pretensions king Stephen readily assented; but they
were resisted by his successor, Henry the Second. In spiritual affairs
_he_ was, however, enslaved to the popedom; and instances of his
persecutions are recorded, towards thirty men and women, who fled into
this country, from Germany, to avoid similar cruelties.
“In this century Richard the First engaged in the Crusades, to recover
the Holy Land from the Turks, but failed in his enterprise. His brother
John, who succeeded him, not only ignominiously swore fealty to the
pope, but stipulated for himself and his successors to pay an annual
tribute to Rome for ever, on pain of forfeiture of his kingdom. Some
idea may be formed of the thraldom in which this monarch was held, from
the following anecdote, recorded with feelings of just indignation, by
Holinshed, in his Chronicles.
“‘When,’ says he, ‘John, upon just occasion, had received some grudge
against the ambitious behaviour of the Cistercian monks, in the second
year of his reign; and, upon denial to pay such sums of money as was
allotted unto them, had caused seizure to be made of such horses, swine,
cows, and other things of theirs, which were maintained in his forests,
they denounced him as fast among themselves, with bell, book, and
candle, to be accursed and excommunicated. Thereto they so handled the
matter with the pope and their friends, that the king was fain to yield
to their good graces: insomuch that a meeting for pacification was
appointed between them, at Lincoln, by means of the archbishop of
Canterbury, who went often between him and the Cistercian commissioners,
before the matter could be settled. In the end, the king himself came
also unto the said commissioners, as they sat in their chapterhouse, and
_fell down at their feet_; craving pardon for his offences unto them,
and heartily requiring that they would, from thenceforth, commend him
and his realm, in their prayers, unto the protection of the Almighty,
and receive him into their fraternity: promising, moreover, full
satisfaction of their damages sustained, and to build a house of their
order, in whatsoever place of England it should please them to assign;
and this he confirmed by charter.’
“The _thirteenth_ century commenced with the persecution of the
Waldenses, one million of whom are said to have perished in France; and
the duke of Alva boasted that he destroyed thirty-six thousand of these
pious people in the Netherlands.
“The Dominican and Franciscan Friars arose about this time, and were in
great repute amongst the people, on account of their sanctity. But their
rapacity was unlimited; and the cloak of religion alone disguised their
exactions. Such was the superstition of the age, that our countryman,
Roger Bacon, was accused of magic, on account of his extraordinary
literary attainments, and confined in prison a long time, for no other
crime. He appears to have been a man not only of vast learning, but of a
philosophical and inventive genius.
“In the _fourteenth_ century, true religion was scarcely to be
recognized. The king and people of England were reduced to a state of
almost complete vassalage to the pope. In the reign of Henry the Fifth,
a law was passed against the perusal of the Scriptures in England. It
was enacted, ‘That whatsoever they were, that should read the Scriptures
in the mother tongue, they should forfeit land, cattle, life, and goods,
from their heirs for ever; and so be condemned for heretics to God,
enemies to the crown, and most errant traitors to the land.’
“In this century arose the order of Jesuits; an order which obtained a
political influence almost unparalleled. Their founder, Ignatius Loyola,
was born at the castle of Loyola, in the province of Guipuscoa, in
Spain, in 1391: he was first page to Ferdinand the Fifth, king of Spain,
and then an officer in his army; in which he signalized himself by his
valour, and was wounded in both legs, at the siege of Pampeluna, in
1421.
“To this circumstance the Jesuits owe their origin; for, whilst he was
under care of his wounds, a life of the Saints was put into his hands,
which determined him to forsake the military for the ecclesiastical
profession. His first devout exercise was to devote himself to the
Virgin Mary, as her knight: he then went a pilgrimage to the Holy Land;
and, on his return to Europe, he continued his theological studies in
the universities of Spain, though he was then thirty-three years of age.
After this he went to Paris; and in France laid the foundation of this
new order, the Institutes of which he presented to pope Paul the Third,
who made many objections to them; but Ignatius, adding to his three
vows, of Chastity, Poverty, and Obedience, a fourth of implicit
submission to the Holy See, the institution was at length confirmed; and
its founder expired the following year, _viz._ in 1450.
“Whilst we cannot but consider Ignatius Loyola in error, and must most
fully allow that the influence his followers obtained, was dangerous and
destructive; ‘yet, perhaps, of all the remarkable men whose lives have
been recorded, no one has displayed more ability in discovering his own
deficiencies, and more perseverance in correcting them. By the rare
union of unwearied patience and consummate prudence, with perfect
enthusiasm, he accomplished the object of his ambition; and lived to see
a wider range of success than his boldest hopes could have
anticipated[2].’
Footnote 2:
Quarterly Review.
“But to return to my narration. No punishment appears to have been more
frequently inflicted by the clergy, than that of public penance; and as
a curious instance of it occurs in this century, in the reign of Henry
the Fifth, I shall give you the particulars.
“In the afternoon of Easter day, a time which required devotion, at a
sermon in the east of London, a great fray arose in the said church,
between the Lord Strange and Sir John Trussel, on account of some
misunderstanding subsisting between their wives. Many of the spectators
interfering, in order to appease, if possible, the tumult, they were not
only several of them badly wounded, but one man, named Thomas
Petwardine, killed on the spot. The gentlemen were in consequence
apprehended and committed to the Tower, and the service suspended.
“When information reached the archbishop of Canterbury respecting this
outrageous profanation of the church, he caused the offenders to be
excommunicated in St. Paul’s, and all other churches in London; and
shortly after he sat at St. Magnus, in order to enquire into the authors
of the offence, who were principally discovered to be Strange and his
wife. On the following first of May, the offenders submitted themselves
to do penance, and swore to do it agreeably as was enjoined, which was
as follows: That, immediately, all their servants should, in their
shirts, go before the parson of St. Dunstan’s, from St. Paul’s to the
said St. Dunstan’s seat, and the Lord Strange and his lady bare-footed;
Reginald Henwood, archdeacon of London, following them. Also it was
appointed, at the consecrating or hallowing the said church, which they
had profaned, the lady should fill all the vessels with water, and offer
likewise to the altar an ornament of ten pounds; and the lord, her
husband, a pix (or chest in which the Host is kept) of silver, value of
five pounds: which done, by way of satisfactory expiation, they were
absolved; but Lord Strange had first made the wife of the said
Petwardine, killed in the fray, large amends.
“But, in the midst of this papal tyranny, loud complaints began to be
heard; and, towards the latter end of this century, attempts were made
to reform them. Thomas Bradwardine, archbishop of Canterbury, who
devoted himself to the study of the Holy Scriptures, and whose writings
display the soundness of his doctrines, flourished in this age. He may
be justly termed one of the morning stars of the Reformation.
“About the year 1440, the art of printing was introduced; and this,
under the divine blessing, opened the way for the promulgation of the
sacred volume, with a rapidity unknown to manuscript editions. The first
printed book with _moveable_ types, was a copy of the Bible, which made
its appearance between the years 1450 and 1452. This discovery is
certainly to be attributed to the Germans, whether it consisted in
printing with blocks of wood, or types moveable at pleasure. John
Guttenburgh, of Mentz, has the best claim to the honour of this
invention. The introduction of this invaluable art into this country, in
1447, is justly ascribed to William Caxton, a merchant of London, who
acquired a knowledge of it in his travels abroad. He is said to have
been a native of Caxton, a village near Cambridge, towards the latter
end of the reign of Edward the Fourth. The first book printed in the
English tongue was ‘The Recuyell of the History of Troy;’ and is dated
September the nineteenth, 1471, at Cologne. The ‘Game of Chess,’ dated
in 1474, is allowed, by all typographical antiquaries, to have been the
first specimen of the art among us. Mr. Caxton died in 1486, or,
according to other accounts, in 1491.
“In this century, _viz._ in 1428, the bones of John Wickliffe, the
rising sun of the Reformation, were taken up and burnt, by an order of
the council of Constance; and his works were thrown publicly into the
flames, at Oxford.
“This great man was born at Richmond in Yorkshire, in the year 1324. He
was presented to the rectory of Lutterworth in Leicestershire, through
the influence of his friend the duke of Lancaster; and, in spite of the
machinations of the priests, he not only preached with great success,
but his doctrines became extremely popular, and he expired in peace, on
his living, in the year 1384.
“The event of his death was hailed with triumph by the popish faction.
But in vain did tyranny or artifice strive to stop the progress of
truth: his followers rapidly increased; and, under the name of Lollards,
we find them enduring, in the fifteenth century, a furious persecution.
Yet, in spite of all that cruelty could devise, the doctrines of
Wickliffe were not only maintained, but, one hundred and fifty years
afterwards, we find that they had made great progress through all ranks
in the nation.
“It was at this period that the Reformation from popery and its errors
commenced, under the reign of Henry the Eighth; and it was instigated,
in a great measure, by the resistance of the pope to the divorce of this
monarch, from the widow of his brother Arthur, to whom he had been
married several years, and by whom he had one daughter, afterwards queen
Mary. Religious scruples respecting the validity of this union, were the
ostensible motives given by the capricious king; whilst a passion for
Ann Boleyn, a celebrated and accomplished beauty, was the real motive
which led to a step so wonderfully over-ruled for good.