HISTORICAL MEMORIES TO THE ACCESSION OF THE TUDORS.
_The First Cathedral_--_Mellitus and his Troubles_--_Erkenwald_
--_Theodred_ "_the Good_"--_William the Norman, his Epitaph_
--_The Second Cathedral_--_Lanfranc and Anselm hold Councils in
it_--_Bishop Foliot and Dean Diceto_--_FitzOsbert_--_King John's
Evil Reign, his Vassalage_--_Henry III.'s Weak and Mischievous
Reign_--_The Cardinal Legate in St. Paul's_--_Bishop Roger_ "_the
Black_"--_The three Edwards, Importance of the Cathedral in their
Times_--_Alderman Sely's Irregularity_--_Wyclif at St. Paul's_
--_Time of the Wars of the Roses_--_Marriage of Prince Arthur._
I have already said that the buildings of the ancient cathedral, with
a special exception to be considered hereafter, were completed before
the great ecclesiastical changes of the sixteenth century.
Our next subject will be some history of the events which the
cathedral witnessed from time to time during its existence, and for
this we have to go back to the very beginning, to the first simple
building, whatever it was, in which the first bishop, Mellitus, began
his ministry. He founded the church in 604, and he had troubled times.
The sons of his patron, King Sebert, relapsed into paganism, indeed
they had never forsaken it, though so long as their father lived they
had abstained from heathen rites. One day, entering the church, they
saw the bishop celebrating the Sacrament, and said, "Give us some of
that white bread which you gave our father." Mellitus replied that
they could not receive it before they were baptized; whereupon they
furiously exclaimed that he should not stay among them. In terror he
fled abroad, as did Justus from Rochester, and as Laurence would have
done from Canterbury, had he not received a Divine warning. Kent soon
returned to the faith which it had abandoned; but Essex for a while
remained heathen, and when Mellitus wished to return they refused him,
and he succeeded Laurence at Canterbury. Other bishops ministered to
the Christians as well as they could; but the authority of the See and
the services of the cathedral were restored by Erkenwald, one of the
noblest of English prelates, son of Offa, King of East Anglia. He
founded the two great monasteries of Chertsey and Barking, ruled the
first himself, and set his sister Ethelburga over the other. In 675 he
was taken from his abbey and consecrated fourth Bishop of London by
Archbishop Theodore, and held the See until 693. He was a man, by
universal consent, of saintly life and vast energy. He left his mark
by strengthening the city wall and building the gate, which is called
after him Bishopsgate. Close by is the church which bears the name of
his sister, St. Ethelburga. He converted King Sebba to the faith; but
it was probably because of his beneficent deeds to the Londoners
that he was second only to Becket in the popular estimate, all over
southern England. There were pilgrimages from the country around to
his shrine in the cathedral, special services on his day, and special
hymns. In fact, as in the case of St. Edward, there were two days
dedicated to him, that of his death, April 30, and that of his
translation, November 14, and these days were classed in London among
the high festivals. His costly shrine was at the back of the screen
behind the high altar. The inscription upon it, besides enumerating
the good deeds we have named, said that he added largely to the
noble buildings of the cathedral, greatly enriched its revenues, and
obtained for it many privileges from kings. His name, so far as its
etymology is concerned, found its repetition in _Archibald_, Bishop of
London, 1856-1868, the founder of the "Bishop of London's Fund."
Another bishop of these early times was Theodred, who was named "the
Good." We cannot give the exact dates of his episcopate, further than
that he was in the See in the middle of the tenth century, as is shown
by some charters that he witnessed. There is a pathetic story told of
him that on his way from London to join King Athelstan in the north he
came to St. Edmund's Bury, and found some men who were charged with
robbing the shrine of St. Edmund, and were detected by the Saint's
miraculous interference. The bishop ordered them to be hanged; but the
uncanonical act weighed so heavily on his conscience that he performed
a lifelong penance, and as an expiation reared a splendid shrine over
the saint's body. And further, he persuaded the King to decree, in a
Witanagemote, that no one younger than fifteen should be put to death
for theft. The bishop was buried in the crypt of St. Paul's, and the
story was often told at his tomb, which was much frequented by the
citizens, of his error and his life-long sorrow.
Another bishop who had been placed in the See by Edward the Confessor,
who, it will be remembered, greatly favoured Normans, to the
indignation of the English people, was known as "William the Norman,"
and, unpopular as the appointment may have been, it did the English
good service. For when the Norman Conquest came the Londoners, for a
while, were in fierce antagonism, and it might have gone hard with
them. But Bishop William was known to the Conqueror, and had, in fact,
been his chaplain, and it was by his intercession that he not only
made friends with them, but gave them the charter still to be seen at
the Guildhall. His monument was in the nave, towards the west end, and
told that he was "vir sapientia et vitæ sanctitate clarus." He was
bishop for twenty years, and died in 1075. The following tribute on
the stone is worth preserving:--
"Hæc tibi, clare Pater, posuerunt marmora cives,
Præmia non meritis æquiparanda tuis:
Namque sibi populus te Londoniensis amicum
Sensit, et huic urbi non leve presidium:
Reddita Libertas, duce te, donataque multis,
Te duce, res fuerat publica muneribus.
Divitias, genus, et formam brevis opprimat hora,
Hæc tua sed pietas et benefacta manent."[1]
To his shrine also an annual pilgrimage was made, and Lord Mayor
Barkham, on renewing the above inscription A.D. 1622, puts in a word
for himself:
"This being by Barkham's thankful mind renewed,
Call it the monument of gratitude."
We pass on to the time of the "second church," the Old St. Paul's
which is the subject of this monograph.
The importance of London had been growing without interruption ever
since its restoration by King Alfred, and it had risen to its position
as the capital city. This largely showed itself when Archbishop
Lanfranc, in 1075, held a great council in St. Paul's, "the first full
Ecclesiastical Parliament of England," Dean Milman calls it. Up to
that time, secular and Church matters had been settled in the same
assembly, but this meeting, held with the King's sanction, and
simultaneously with the Witan, or Parliament, established distinct
courts for the trial of ecclesiastical causes. It decreed that no
bishop or archdeacon should sit in the shiremote or hundred-mote, and
that no layman should try causes pertaining to the cure of souls.
The same council removed some episcopal sees from villages to towns,
Selsey to Chichester, Elmham first to Thetford, then to Norwich,
Sherburn to Old Sarum, Dorchester-on-Thame to Lincoln.
Another council of the great men met in St. Paul's in the course of
the dispute between Henry I. and Anselm about the investitures, but it
ended in a deadlock, and a fresh appeal to the Pope.
In the fierce struggle between Henry II. and Archbishop Becket,
Gilbert Foliot, Bishop of London, while apparently quite honest in his
desire to uphold the rights of the Church, also remained in favour
with the King, and hoped to bring about peace. Becket regarded Foliot
as his bitter enemy, and, whilst the latter was engaged in the most
solemn service in St. Paul's (on St. Paul's Day, 1167), an emissary
from the Archbishop, who was then in self-imposed exile abroad, came
up to the altar, thrust a sentence of excommunication into his hands,
and exclaimed aloud, "Know all men that Gilbert, Bishop of London,
is excommunicated by Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury." When Becket
returned to England, December 1st, 1170, after a hollow reconciliation
with the King, he was asked to remove his sentence of excommunication
on Foliot and the Bishops of Salisbury and York, who had, as he held,
usurped his authority. He refused, unless they made acknowledgment
of their errors. The sequel we know. The King's hasty exclamation on
hearing of this brought about the Archbishop's murder on the 29th
of the same month. During the excommunication, Foliot seems to have
behaved wisely and well. He refused to accept it as valid, but
stayed away from the cathedral to avoid giving offence to sensitive
consciences. After Becket's murder, he declared his innocence of
any share in it, and the Bishop of Nevers removed the sentence of
excommunication.
It was at this period that the Deanery was occupied by the first
man of letters it had yet possessed, Ralph de Diceto. His name is
a puzzle; no one has as yet ascertained the place from which it is
taken. Very probably he was of foreign birth. When Belmeis was made
Bishop of London in 1152, Diceto succeeded him as Archdeacon of
Middlesex. His learning was great, and his chronicles (which have been
edited by Bishop Stubbs) are of great historical value. In the Becket
quarrel Diceto was loyal to Foliot, but he also remained friendly with
Becket. In 1180, he became Dean of St. Paul's. Here he displayed great
and most valuable energy; made a survey of the capitular property
(printed by the Camden Society under the editorship of Archdeacon
Hale), collected many books, which he presented to the Chapter,
built a Deanery House, and established a "fratery," or guild for the
ministration to the spiritual and bodily wants of the sick and poor.
He died in 1202. He wrote against the strict views concerning the
celibacy of the clergy promulgated by Pope Gregory VII., and declared
that the doctrine and the actual practice made a great scandal to
the laity. Dean Milman suspects that he was much moved herein by the
condition of his own Chapter.
In 1191, whilst King Richard I. was in Palestine, his brother John
summoned a council to St. Paul's to denounce William de Longchamp,
Bishop of Ely, to whom Richard had entrusted the affairs of
government, of high crimes and misdemeanours. The result was that
Longchamp had to escape across sea. At length the King returned, but
the Londoners were deeply disaffected. William FitzOsbert, popularly
known as "Longbeard," poured forth impassioned harangues from Paul's
Cross against the oppression of the poor, and the cathedral was
invaded by rioters. Fifty-two thousand persons bound themselves to
follow him, but Hubert, Archbishop of Canterbury, met the citizens in
the cathedral, and by his mild and persuasive eloquence persuaded them
to preserve the peace. FitzOsbert, finding himself deserted, clove the
head of the man sent to arrest him, and shut himself up in the church
of St. Mary-le-Bow. His followers kept aloof, and a three-days' siege
was ended by the church being set on fire. On his attempt to escape he
was severely wounded by the son of the man he had killed, was dragged
away, and burned alive. But his memory was long cherished by the poor.
Paul's Cross was silent for many years from that time.
In 1213, a great meeting of bishops, abbots, and barons met at St.
Paul's to consider the misgovernment and illegal acts of King John.
Archbishop Langton laid before the assembly the charter of Henry I.,
and commented on its provisions. The result was an oath, taken with
acclamation, that they would, if necessary, die for their liberties.
And this led up to Magna Charta. But it was a scene as ignominious as
the first surrender before Pandulf, when Pope Innocent accepted the
homage of King John as the price of supporting him against his barons,
and the wretched King, before the altar of St. Paul, ceded his kingdom
as a fief of the Holy See. The Archbishop of Canterbury protested both
privately and publicly against it.
Henry III. succeeded, at the age of ten years, to a crown which his
father had degraded. The Pope addressed him as "Vassallus Noster," and
sent his legates, one after another, to maintain his authority. It was
in St. Paul's Cathedral that this authority was most conspicuously
asserted. Before the high altar these legates took their seat, issued
canons of doctrine and discipline, and assessed the tribute which
clergy and laity were to pay to the liege lord enthroned at the
Vatican. But the indignation of the nation had been waxing hotter and
hotter ever since King John's shameful surrender. Nevertheless, in the
first days of the boy King's reign, the Papal pretensions did good
service. The barons, in wrath at John's falseness, had invited the
intervention of France, and the Dauphin was now in power. In St.
Paul's Cathedral, half England swore allegiance to him. The Papal
legate, Gualo, by his indignant remonstrance, awoke in them the sense
of shame, and the evil was averted. Then another council was held in
the same cathedral, and the King ratified the Great Charter.
Henry III. grew to manhood, and gave himself up to the management of
foreign favourites, and in 1237, instigated by these, who were led by
Peter de la Roche, Bishop of Winchester, he invited Pope Gregory
IX. to send a Legate (Cardinal Otho "the White") to arrange certain
matters concerning English benefices, as well as some fresh tribute.
They called it "promoting reforms." Their object was to support him in
filling all the rich preferments with the Poitevins and Gascons whom
he was bringing over in swarms. The Cardinal took his lofty seat
before the altar of S. Paul's, and the King bowed before him "until
his head almost touched his knees." The Cardinal "lifted up his voice
like a trumpet" and preached the first sermon of which we have any
report in St. Paul's. His text was Rev. iv. 6, and he interpreted "the
living creatures" as the bishops who surrounded his legatine throne,
whose eyes were to be everywhere and on all sides. The chroniclers
tell how a terrific storm burst over the cathedral at this moment, to
the terror of the whole congregation, including the Legate, and lasted
for fifteen days. It did much harm to the building. The bishop, Roger
Niger, exerted himself strenuously in repairing this. Edmund Rich, the
Archbishop of Canterbury, indignantly protested against the intrusion
of foreign authority, and was joined by Walter de Cantelupe, the
saintly Bishop of Worcester, but for a long time they were powerless.
Besides direct taxation, wealth raised from the appropriation of
rich canonries was drained away from church and state into the Papal
treasury. The Legate remained for four years in power. The Archbishop,
in despair, retired abroad, and died as a simple monk at Pontigny. The
Bishop of London, Roger Niger, was so called from his dark complexion,
and people whimsically noted his being confronted with the Cardinal
Otto Albus. Bishop Roger, before his episcopate, was Archdeacon of
Rochester, a very wise and energetic administrator. He was now on the
side of Rich, bent on defending his clergy from being over-ridden by
the foreigners. He exerted himself as bishop not only to repair the
mischief done by the storm, but to enlarge and beautify the still
unfinished structure. Fourteen years later King Henry was offering
devotion at the shrine of Rich, for he had been canonised, and that
on the strength of his having resisted the King's criminal folly in
betraying the rights of his people; for by this time the nation was
aroused. The Londoners rose and burned the houses of the foreigners.
Bishop Roger, though he, of course, declared against the scenes of
violence, let it be seen that he was determined, by constitutional
methods, to defend his clergy from being plundered. On his death,
in 1241, there was a long vacancy, the King wanting one man and
the canons determined on another, and they carried their man, Fulk
Bassett, though he was not consecrated for three years. Pope Innocent
IV., in 1246, sent a demand of one-third of their income from the
resident clergy, and half from non-resident. Bishop Fulk indignantly
called a council at St. Paul's, which declared a refusal, and even the
King supported him. The remonstrance ended significantly with a call
for a General Council. But he was presently engaged in a more serious
quarrel. The King forced the monks of Canterbury, on the death of
Edmund Rich, to elect the queen's uncle, Boniface of Savoy, to the
primacy. He came and at once began to enrich himself, went "on
visitation" through the country demanding money. The Dean of St.
Paul's, Henry of Cornhill, shut the door in his face, Bishop Fulk
approving. The old Prior of the Monastery of St. Bartholomew,
Smithfield, protested, and the Archbishop, who travelled with a
cuirass under his pontifical robe, knocked him down with his fist.[2]
Two canons, whom he forced into St. Paul's chapter, were killed by the
indignant populace. The same year (1259) brave Bishop Fulk died of the
plague. For years the unholy exactions went on, and again and again
one has records of meetings in St. Paul's to resist them.
When Simon de Montfort rose up against the evil rule of Henry III. the
Londoners met in folkmote, summoned by the great bell of St. Paul's,
and declared themselves on the side of the great patriot. They are
said to have tried to sink the queen's barge when she was escaping
from London to join the King at Windsor.
King Edward I. demanded a moiety of the clerical incomes for his war
with Scotland. The Dean of St. Paul's (Montfort) rose to protest
against the exaction, and fell dead as he was speaking. Two years
later, the King more imperiously demanded it, and Archbishop
Winchelsey wrote to the Bishop of London (Gravesend) commanding him to
summon the whole of the London clergy to St. Paul's to protest, and to
publish the famous Bull, "clericis laicos," of Pope Boniface VIII.,
which forbade any emperor, king, or prince to tax the clergy without
express leave of the Pope. Any layman who exacted, or any cleric who
paid, was at once excommunicate. Boniface, who had been pope two
years, put forward far more arrogant pretensions than Gregory or
Innocent had done, but times were changed. The Kings of England and
France were at once in opposition. The latter (Philip IV.) was more
cautious than his English neighbour, and in the uncompromising
struggle between king and pope, the latter died of grief at defeat,
and his successor was compelled, besides making other concessions, to
remove the papal residence from Rome to Avignon, where it continued
for seventy years, the popes being French nominees. King Edward, with
some trouble, got his money, but promised to repay it when the war was
over, and the clergy succeeded in wresting some additional privileges
from him, which they afterwards used to advantage.
We pass over the unhappy reign of Edward II., only noting that the
Bishop of Exeter, Stapylton, who was ruling for him in London, was
dragged out of St. Paul's, where he had taken sanctuary, and beheaded
in Cheapside. He was the founder of Exeter College, Oxford.
The exile of the popes to Avignon, so far from diminishing their
rapacity, increased it, if possible, and Green shows that the immense
outlay on their grand palace there caused the passing of the Statute
of Provisors in 1350, for the purpose of stopping the incessant
draining away of English wealth to the papacy. During that
"seventy years' captivity," as it was called, Italy and Rome were
revolutionised, and when at length the popes returned to their ancient
city (1376) the great "papal schism" began, which did so much to bring
on the Reformation. It arose out of the Roman people's determination
to have an Italian pope, and the struggle of the French cardinals to
keep the dignity for Frenchmen. The momentous results of that fierce
conflict only concern us here indirectly. We simply note now that the
year following the return to Rome saw John Wyclif brought to account
at St. Paul's.
But before following that history, it will not be out of place to
take another survey of our cathedral during these years, apart
from fightings and controversies. St. Paul's had been most closely
connected with the continually growing prosperity of the city.
The Lord Mayor was constantly worshipping there in state with his
officers. On the 29th of October each year (the morrow of SS. Simon
and Jude) he took his oath of office at the Court of Exchequer, dined
in public, and, with the aldermen, proceeded from the church of St.
Thomas Acons (where the Mercers' Chapel now is) to the cathedral.
There a requiem was said for Bishop William, as already described,[3]
then they went on to the tomb of Thomas Becket's parents, and the
requiem was again said. This done they returned by Cheapside to the
Church of St. Thomas Acons, where each man offered a penny. On All
Saints' Day (three days later) they went to St. Paul's again for
Vespers, and again at Christmas, on the Epiphany, and on Candlemas Day
(Purification). On Whitsun Monday they met at St. Peter's, Cornhill,
and on this occasion the City clergy all joined the procession, and
again they assembled in the cathedral nave, while the _Veni Creator
Spiritus_ was sung antiphonally, and a chorister, robed as an angel,
waved incense from the rood screen above.[4] Next day the same
ceremony was repeated, but this time it was "the common folk" who
joined in the procession, which returned by Newgate, and finished
at the Church of St. Michael le Querne.[5] And once more they went
through the ceremony, the "common folk of Essex" this time assisting.
There could not be fuller proof of the sense of religious duty in
civil and commercial life. The history of the City Guilds is full of
the same interweaving of the life of the people with the duties of
religion. There is an amusing incident recorded of one of these
Pentecostal functions. On Whitsun Monday, 1382, John Sely, Alderman of
Walbrook, wore a cloak without a lining. It ought to have been lined
with green taffeta. There was a meeting of the Council about this, and
they gave sentence that the mayor and aldermen should dine with the
offender at his cost on the following Thursday, and that he should
line his cloak. "And so it was done."
At one of these Whitsun festivals (it was in 1327) another procession
was held, no doubt to the delight of many spectators. A roguish baker
had a hole made in his table with a door to it, which could be opened
and shut at pleasure. When his customers brought dough to be baked he
had a confederate under the table who craftily withdrew great pieces.
He and some other roguish bakers were tried at the Guildhall, and
ordered to be set in the pillory, in Cheapside, with lumps of dough
round their necks, and there to remain till vespers at St. Paul's were
ended.
[Illustration: MONUMENT OF JOHN OF GAUNT AND BLANCHE OF LANCASTER.
_After W. Hollar._]
[Illustration: MONUMENT OF BISHOP ROGER NIGER. _After W. Hollar._]
[Illustration: MONUMENT OF SIR JOHN BEAUCHAMP, POPULARLY KNOWN AS DUKE
HUMPHREY'S. _After W. Hollar._]
[Illustration: BRASS OF BISHOP BRAYBROOKE.]
[Illustration: BRASS OF JOHN MOLINS.]
[Illustration: BRASS OF RALPH DE HENGHAM.]
[Illustration: CHURCH OF ST. FAITH IN THE CRYPT OF ST. PAUL'S. _After
W. Hollar._]
We return to the religious history, in which we left off with the name
of Wyclif. The Norman despotism of the Crown was crumbling away, so
was the Latin despotism of the Church. On both sides there was evident
change at hand, and Wiclif gave form to the new movement. He was born
about 1324, educated at Oxford, where he won high distinction, not
only by his learning, but by his holiness of life. The unparalleled
ravages of the plague known as the "black death," not only in England
but on the Continent, affected him so deeply that he was possessed by
the absolute conviction that the wrath of God was upon the land for
the sins of the nation at large, and especially of the Church, and he
began his work as a preacher against the abuses. His first assault was
upon the Mendicant Friars, whom he held up, as did his contemporary,
Chaucer, to the scorn of the world. Then he passed on to the luxury
in which some of the prelates were living, and to their overweening
influence in the Councils of State. Edward III., after a reign of
great splendour, had sunk into dotage. John of Gaunt had been striving
for mastery against the Black Prince, but the latter was dying, July,
1376, and Gaunt was now supreme. He hated good William of Wykeham, who
had possessed enormous influence with the old king, and he was bent
generally on curbing the power of the higher clergy. At this juncture
Wyclif was summoned to appear at St. Paul's to answer for certain
opinions which he had uttered. It is not clear what these opinions
were, further than that they were mainly against clerical powers and
assumptions; questions of doctrine had not yet shaped themselves. He
appeared before the tribunal, but not alone. Gaunt stood by his side.
And here, for a while, the position of parties becomes somewhat
complicated. Gaunt was at this moment very unpopular. The Black Prince
was the favourite hero of the multitude, an unworthy one indeed, as
Dean Kitchin has abundantly shown, but he had won great victories, and
had been handsome and gracious in manners. He was now at the point of
death, and Gaunt was believed to be aiming at the succession, to the
exclusion of the Black Prince's son, and was associated in the popular
mind with the King's mistress, Alice Ferrers, as taking every sort of
mean and wicked advantage of the old man's dotage. Added to this the
Londoners were on the side of their Bishop (Courtenay) in defence,
as they held, of the rights of the City. So on the day of Wyclif's
appearance the cathedral and streets surrounding it were crowded, to
such an extent indeed that Wyclif had much trouble in getting through,
and when Gaunt was seen, accompanied by his large body of retainers, a
wild tumult ensued; the mob attacked Gaunt's noble mansion, the Savoy
Palace, and had not Courtenay intervened, would have burnt it down.
The Black Prince's widow was at her palace at Kennington, with her
son, the future Richard II., and her great influence was able to
pacify the rioters.
Soon came an overwhelming change. The succession of the Black Prince's
son was secured, and then public opinion was directed to the other
question, Wyclif's denunciation of the Papal abuses. Relieved from
Gaunt's partisanship, he sprang at once into unbounded popularity. His
learning, his piety of life, were fully recognised, and the Londoners
were now on his side. He had preached at the very beginning of the
new reign that a great amount of treasure, in the hands of the Pope's
agent, ought not to pass out of England. Archbishop Sudbury summoned
him not to St. Paul's, but to Lambeth. But the favour with which he
was now regarded was so manifest that he was allowed to depart from
the assembly a free man, only with an injunction to keep silence "lest
he should mislead the ignorant." He went back to Lutterworth, where he
occupied himself in preaching and translating the Bible. He died in
1384. A wonderful impetus was, however, given to the spread of his
opinions by the schism in the Papacy which was filling Europe with
horrified amazement.
From that time till the accession of the Tudors, two subjects are
prominent in English history: the spread of Lollardism, _i.e._, the
Wycliffite doctrines, and the Wars of the Roses. Both topics have some
place in the history of Old St. Paul's.
Richard II. on his accession came in great pomp hither, and never
again alive. But his body was shown in the cathedral by his victorious
successor, Henry IV., who had a few days before buried his father,
John of Gaunt, there, who died at Ely House, Holborn, February 3rd,
1399, and whose tomb was one of the finest in the cathedral, as
sumptuous as those of his father, Edward III., at Westminster, and his
son, Henry IV., at Canterbury.
Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, the youngest son of Henry IV., was
appointed guardian of his infant nephew, Henry VI., on his father's
death; but partly though the intrigues and squabbles of the royal
family, partly by his own mismanagement, he lost the confidence of the
nation. His wife, Jacqueline, had been persuaded by a sorcerer that
her husband would be king, and she joined him in acts of witchcraft
in order to bring this about. She was condemned (October, 1441) to do
penance by walking three successive days in a white sheet and carrying
a lighted taper, starting each day from St. Paul's and visiting
certain churches. Her husband, says the chronicler Grafton, "took all
patiently and said little." Still retaining some power in the Council,
he lived until 1447, when he died and was buried at St. Albans. He was
an unprincipled man, but a generous patron of letters and a persecutor
of Lollards; and hence, in after years, he got the name of "the good
Duke Humphrey," which was hardly a greater delusion than that which
afterwards identified the tomb of Sir John Beauchamp in St. Paul's as
Duke Humphrey's. But the strange error was accepted, and the aisle in
which the said tomb lay was commonly known as "Duke Humphrey's Walk,"
and it was a favourite resort of insolvent debtors and beggars, who
loitered about it dinnerless and in hope of alms. And thus arose
the phrase of "Dining with Duke Humphrey," _i.e._, going without; a
phrase, it will be seen, founded on a strange blunder. The real grave
is on the south side of the shrine of St. Alban's.
Richard, Duke of York, swore fealty in most express terms to Henry VI.
at St. Paul's in March, 1452. He had been suspected of aiming at
the crown. But the government grew so unpopular, partly through the
disasters in France, partly through the King's incapacity, that York
levied an army and demanded "reformation of the Government." And on
May 23rd, 1455, was fought the battle of St. Albans, the first of
twelve pitched battles, the first blood spilt in a fierce contest
which lasted for thirty years, and almost destroyed the ancient
nobility of England. York himself was killed at Wakefield, December
23rd, 1460. On the following 3rd of March his son was proclaimed
King Edward IV. in London, and on the 29th (Palm Sunday) he defeated
Henry's Queen Margaret at Towton, the bloodiest battle ever fought on
English ground. A complicated struggle followed, during which there
was much changing of sides. Once King Henry, who had been imprisoned
in the Tower, was brought out by the Earl of Warwick, who had changed
sides, and conducted to St. Paul's in state. But the Londoners showed
that they had no sympathy; they were on the Yorkist side in the
interest of strong government. Hall the chronicler makes an amusing
remark on Warwick's parading of King Henry in the streets. "It no more
moved the Londoners," he says, "than the fire painted on the wall
warmed the old woman." That is worthy of Sam Weller. In May, 1470,
Henry died in the Tower, and his corpse was exhibited in St. Paul's.
It was alleged that as it lay there blood flowed from the nose as
Richard Crookback entered, witnessing that he was the murderer.
Richard afterwards came again to offer his devotions after the death
of his brother, Edward IV., and all the while he was planning the
murder of his young nephews.
Arthur, Prince of Wales, son of Henry VII., married Catharine of
Aragon in St. Paul's, November 14th, 1501. He died five months later,
at the age of 15. The chroniclers are profuse in their descriptions of
the decorations of the cathedral and city on that occasion. The body
of Henry VII. lay in state at St. Paul's before it was buried in
Westminster Abbey.
This brings us to a new epoch altogether in our history. The stirring
events now to be noted do not so much concern the material fabric of
the cathedral as in the past, but they were of the most momentous
interest, and St. Paul's took more part in them than did any other
cathedral.
[Footnote 1:
"This humble tomb our citizens placed here
Unequal to thy merits, father dear;
For London's people know how wisely thou
Didst guide their fate, and gladly feel it now.
Under thy guidance freedom was restored,
And noble gifts through thee on us were poured.
Riches and earthly honours cease to be,
But thy good deeds abide in memory."]
[Footnote 2: See _Mediæval London_, p. 62.]
[Footnote 3: Page 25.]
[Footnote 4: There was a special order in the first year of Edward VI.
that instead of this censing a sermon should be preached.]
[Footnote 5: It stood where the Peel statue now is, at the top of
Cheapside.]
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