CHAPTER II

THE PROGRESS OF THE REFORMATION

The question as to the proportion of Protestants to Catholics at the accession of Elizabeth, and at her death, has received various answers, depending upon the religion of the respondent. Lingard, the fairest of all the Catholic writers, estimates the number of Catholics at one-half the whole population. This was thirty years before Elizabeth’s accession. Dr. Allen thought they were two-thirds (Strype, iii. 415). A great many of the better class were Catholics. Venner (1649) says that fifty years before, all physicians were Catholics. This may have been caused by study in Italian schools of medicine. A good many people in London attended mass at some Ambassador’s chapel. The Spaniards when the Armada was projected relied upon the opinion that the half of England would join them. The North of England was filled with Catholics, yet they did not join the Rebellion of 1569. One-fourth of the population of Cheshire were Catholics; on the other hand, there is testimony to the effect that the number of Catholics had enormously decreased in the first thirty years of Elizabeth’s reign. In 1569 there were in London twelve to fifteen places where mass was regularly said. In 1594 a Jesuit speaks of the “little sparkle of Catholic religion yet reserved amongst us” as soon to be extinguished. The common-sense view of the case seems to be this. The people of London who, as we have seen, were filled with Lollardry from the beginning of the fifteenth century; who welcomed the Dissolution of the Religious Houses; who rejoiced at such a shadow of free thought as Henry afforded them; who shuddered with horror at the flames of Smithfield;—were overjoyed at the return of the Protestant Faith. But it would be wrong to suppose that all the scholars, all who had lived among the better-class priests and friars, went over to the new Faith; they did not: a large number of gentlewomen remained steadfast; the Government showed its good sense by taking no notice, or as little as possible, of recusants. Burleigh advised against punishing these people by death; best not make martyrs; there was no true method of lessening their numbers “but by preaching and by education of the younger under good schoolmasters.”

In a word, if it is intended to make any form of faith decay, there is no need of persecution: it has only to be surrounded by disabilities. If a Roman Catholic could hold no municipal office, and no State office, could not enter a grammar school or the university, could not take a degree, could not become a lawyer, could not sit in either House, could not serve in the army or the navy, then the Roman Catholic religion would fall rapidly into decay. This is exactly what happened; at the present moment, though all disabilities have been removed, the proportion of Catholics in England and Scotland is certainly not more than one in twenty. The “old” Catholics were those wealthy families which could continue in spite of all disabilities, a few noble houses and a few county people. Similar results attended the disabilities of the Nonconformists. Dissent survived its disabilities among people who cared nothing for office, people at the lower end of society, people for the most part of small trade. Among the better class, Dissent lost ground and mostly disappeared till the abolition of disabilities.

It is commonly believed that in the parish churches there was but one step from the mass to the Reformed service. This was not so (see an article by Mr. T. T. Micklethwaite on “Parish Churches in the year 1548,” _Arch. Journ._ xxxv.). The Dissolution of the Religious Houses made at first very little difference in the churches. The guilds were suppressed, and therefore the lights which they kept up; the endowed lights were also suppressed; but people went on endowing new lights for the parish churches. In the year 1547 certain rules or injunctions were issued which commanded that all images which had been made the object of pilgrimage should be destroyed; that no lights should be set up before any picture except two wax tapers on the altar, and these because Christ is the Light of the World. Images which had not been abused were to remain “for remembrance only.” The English Bible and the Paraphrases of Erasmus on the Gospel were to be set up in every church where the people could have access to them. Shrines, pictures of miracles, and glass depicting miracles, were to be destroyed; a pulpit was to be provided, and an alms chest to be placed by the altar.

As regards the services, changes were gradual. The High Mass continued, but the Gospel and Epistle were read in English, and a chapter from the New Testament was read after lessons at Matins and after Magnificat at Evensong. The English Litany was sung after High Mass. The Pater Noster, Creed, and Ten Commandments were sometimes publicly rehearsed in English, and Communion was refused to those who did not know them.

In the year 1548 the “Order of Communion” was put forth; in 1549 the Prayer Book appeared. Mr. Micklethwaite has drawn up an account of the parish church of 1548 before the Reformed Prayer Book, and with the alterations made in the service up to that date. The principal entrance was by the south door; in the porch was a basin of holy water; the font stood sometimes in the middle of the nave, sometimes against the west side of one of the pillars; it had a cover which could be locked down. Near it was a locker in which were kept the oils, salt, etc., required for the old rite of baptism.

“At the beginning of the sixteenth century all but very poor parish churches seem to have been furnished with pews, but the whole area was not filled with them, as at a later date. Old pews west of the doors are very rare, but they are found sometimes, as at Brington, Northants. Generally all this space was left clear, and there was a clear area of at least one bay, and often much more at the west end. A church with aisles had nearly always four blocks of pews, and the passages were broad alleys, that in the middle being often more than a third of the width of the nave, and the side passages were not much less. The appropriation of special places to individuals seems to have been usual, and even that bugbear of modern ecclesiastical reformers, the lock-up pew or closet, was not unknown. These in parish churches were generally chantry chapels, arranged for private services at their own altars and for use as pews during the public services.”

The pulpit had no fixed position: it was made movable; one of that period still remains at Westminster. It was ordered in 1547 that the priests and choir should kneel in the midst of the church and sing or say the Litany; the Litany desk came into use afterwards. The confessional had been continued in certain London churches: at St. Margaret Patens there was the “shrivyng pew”; at St. Christopher le Stock the “Shriving House.” The usual custom was for the penitent to kneel or stand before the priest, who sat in a chair. The Bible and the Paraphrases of Erasmus were chained to a desk somewhere in the nave.

The Rood screen, which was a music gallery, carried a loft and the organ when there was one. The loft contained desks for singers; it was also provided with pricks for candles. The great cross rose above the loft. In the chancel stood the high altar; when there were no aisles two smaller altars stood one on either side. Above the altar was a reredos of carved work; at the ends of which hung curtains. There was generally a super altar. On the high altar stood the cross, with figures, reliquaries, and images to adorn it. Also they laid on the altar the Textus or Book of the Gospels, with the paxbrede or tablet for the kiss of peace. There were generally two lights on the altar.

“It is convenient to mention here the other lights, which were kept in 1548, by the retention of the ceremonies with which they were connected. These were the two tapers carried by boys in processions at High Mass, and at other services when solemnly performed; the herse light, used at Matins or Tenebres on the last three days of Holy Week; the paschal candle, which stood in a tall candlestick, or hung in a bason on the north side of the high altar, and was lighted with much ceremony on Easter Eve, and burned at all the principal services throughout Paschal tide; the torches carried in the procession on Corpus Christi Day; the lantern carried before the Sacrament when it was taken to the sick; the large standing tapers which were placed round a corpse during the funeral service; and the candle used at baptism. Most of the lights, which a little earlier had been common round tombs, were endowed, and as such had been taken away, but the custom of survivors placing lights round the graves of their departed friends would probably be continued still for a few years.”

Chapels were the most usual places for tombs, but they are found in every part of the church. The various forms of them are too familiar to require description, but the use of colour gave them much more decorative importance in an interior than they have now. Many were painted, and others were covered with rich cloths. Flat gravestones had often carpets laid over them, and raised tombs had palls of cloth of gold or other costly stuff. The church of Dunstable still possesses such a pall: it is of crimson velvet, richly embroidered. Tapestries and cloths of various kinds were very much used, especially in chancels, as curtains and carpets, and as coverings for seats and desks and the like. Every church also had special hangings for Lent, when images and pictures were covered up generally with white or blue cloths, marked with crosses and the emblems of the Passion. The Lenten veil between the choir and the high altar seems also to have been retained in 1547, but in 1548 Cranmer and his party had partly succeeded in doing away with it. All parts of the church were more or less adorned with imagery and pictures on walls, in windows, or on furniture. None had been ordered to be taken away except such as had been superstitiously abused, or which were representations of “feigned miracles.”

“When the priest took the Sacrament to the sick he was accompanied by clerks, who carried a cross, bell, and light. The Sacrament itself was enclosed in a pyx, and with it was taken a cup in which the priest dipped his fingers after giving the communion. The chrismatory was generally a little box of metal containing three little bottles for the three oils, which seem generally to have been kept together. For use at funerals, every church had a cross, a bier, and a handbell, the last being a good-sized bell which was rung before the corpse as it was being carried to the church. It was also used for ‘crying’ obits about the parish, and asking for prayers for the deceased. Some churches had what was called the common coffin, which was used to carry bodies to the church, the most general custom being to bury without coffin. And they had palls and torches for funerals, for the use of which a charge was made according to the quality of the pall and the ‘waste’ of the torches. At weddings it was the custom to hold a large square cloth of silk or other material, called the care cloth, over the heads of the bride and bridegroom whilst they received the benediction, and it was kept for that use amongst the church goods. At St. Margaret’s, Westminster, we find also a crown or circlet for brides, which appears to have been a thing of some value.”

It will be seen from these quotations that the parish church contained in essentials the whole of the Catholic ritual except the parts which were ordered to be read in English. At the same time by reading, by hearing sermons, by the newly awakened spirit of examination and discussion, the people were preparing for more drastic changes. When they came there was no violent revolution, and though many remained faithful to the old creed, the bulk of the people in London were Protestant at heart. The weak point of the Reformation was that as yet no one was sure that it was stable and assured. Nor was there any such assurance till the defeat of the Spanish Armada and fifty years of the Maiden Queen had turned Protestantism into patriotism.

It is apparent (see _Archæologia_, vol. xlv.) that the ancient vestments were worn in some of the churches after the Reformation, until they fell to pieces. At the church of St. Christopher le Stock they were worn until the third year of Elizabeth, when being worn out, and no funds existing to replace them, the simple surplice was used. Twelve tables hung on the wall of the church: one containing the Ten Commandments; eleven containing prayers to the saints. The Reformers, therefore, did not introduce a new thing when they hung up the Table of the Commandments.

It used to be a custom in many City churches to ring the bell at 5 A.M.; not the “apprentice bell,” but a continuation and a survival of the ancient practice to call the people to the early service. Thus, at St. Margaret’s, Lothbury, in 1573, it was “resolved that after every workday we shall have morning prayer at five o’clock; also to have a lecture every Wednesday and Friday, beginning at five o’clock and ending at six o’clock, the bell to toll half an hour after five every afternoon.” The books show a good deal of whipping of men and women. They were chiefly wanderers, tramps, and their great offence was in carrying the plague about the country.

The services of the church could be made Lutheran in their character or Puritanic. The great difference was in the manner of singing. The Puritans sang in a plain tune all together; the Protestants “tossed” the Psalms from one side to the other with music of the organ. Congregational singing was one of the most important changes introduced by the Reformation. In September 1559 the new morning prayer “after Geneva fashion” was introduced at St. Antholin’s, the bell ringing at 5 A.M.

There were still some processions kept up. On St. Andrew’s Day a procession was conducted at St. Paul’s with one priest out of every parish in the City, and on the 25th of September the boys of St. Anthony’s school marched together from Mile End down Cornhill with streamers and flags, whifflers and drums.

In the church of St. Christopher le Stock we find that certain old customs were preserved: the church was decorated at Christmas with holly and ivy; at Easter with “rosemary, bay, and strawings.”

The parish system seems to have been well worked; the streets were kept clean; evildoers were not allowed to harbour within the limits; taxes were collected; the sick were watched and tended.

The efforts of the more sober leaders were directed to change, it is true, but to gradual not revolutionary change. The restraint of the zealous, however, was in some churches very difficult; certain quarters of the City were far more Protestant than others: Blackfriars, for instance, became an early centre of Puritanism; at St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, on the other hand, we find the church-wardens quietly obeying every new ordinance, but keeping the old things in boxes ready for a possible return to the old order. The Dissolution of the Houses brought with it certain unexpected accompaniments. The servants of the Commissioners took away the sacred vestments and used them either for their own common wear or for saddlecloths, thus inflicting wanton insults on the faithful and bringing into contempt, with the desecration of the vestments, the very doctrines of which they were symbolical. Again, there were the relics and the images which the people had so long adored; it is true that the Church would not acknowledge the adoration of an image, but that was the practice of the common people, as it is at this day in every Roman Catholic Church. Thus sacred objects came to be treated with the utmost scorn: reliquaries were emptied and the relics thrown away; images of the Virgin were deprived of their lovely vestments, and sent about the country, shapeless lumps of wood, or brought to London to be publicly burned. In some cases an ancient and venerable fraud was discovered and pitilessly exposed. Who could resist contempt for the priests and monks who had for many generations of simple believers made the head on the Holy Rood of Boxley incline benignantly and roll its eyes upon the kneeling multitude? With all these aids to disbelief who can wonder if the wave of Protestant indignation mounted steadily higher; if the fiery spirit of Reform seized upon town and country, upon the sober merchant and the hot-headed ’prentice? We hear of the young men reading the Bible aloud in the churches, shouting the words they read; of girls who carried the English Primer with them to church and studied it during the singing of Matins; of men who insulted the Consecration of the Host; who attacked the priest who carried it through the streets. It is certain that London itself, almost from the beginning, was for the Reformation. (_See_ Appendix V.)

A pressing difficulty, in the opening years of Elizabeth, was the illiterate and immoral condition of the clergy. So many refused the oath of supremacy that it became necessary to create lay readers. Indeed, the condition of England, including London, was calculated to fill the minds of the most ardent Protestants with dismay. During the first fifteen years of the reign, the House of Commons complained to the Queen that men were ordained who were infamous in their lives and conversation; the Bishop of London complained that even the Bishops were “sunk and lamentably disvalued by the meanest of the peoples”; the County of Essex represented that the new clergy were ignorant, riotous and drunkards; the Lords in Council represented to the Archbishop of Canterbury the evil lives of the clergy. Out of all the clergy in the City of London there were but nineteen preachers. Yet in 1559 Elizabeth ordered that there should be a sermon once a month on doctrine. And in 1586 the Bishop of London ordered the clergy to write one Sermon every week. It is said that the clergy fell so low in esteem as to be treated like outcasts, incurably drunken, ignorant, and licentious.

With the general charges against the Elizabethan Clergy it appears unnecessary to bring forward specific acts which may very well be taken to be isolated cases, in no way proving general corruption. There are, however, a few which seem to show the general condition of things.

In 1562, a priest was carted through the City for saying mass.

In 1554 priests, who would not leave their wives, did penance in St. Paul’s, and were beaten over the head with rods.

In 1561 the Queen, who never approved the marriage of priests, ordered those who were married not to bring their wives into Colleges.

In the same year there were found to be many conjurors in Westminster including priests, one of whom was put in pillory.

In 1557 the priest of St. Ethelburga was pilloried for sedition, and had his ears nailed to the pillory.

In 1559 there was a great burning of copes, censers, crosses, altar cloths, rood cloths, books, banners, etc.

In 1560 a priest was hanged for cutting a purse; it was his second offence.

The priest who sold his wife to a butcher, and was carried through the streets for an open shame, must hardly, one hopes, be quoted as an example. We picture him as a drunken and dissolute hog, lost to all sense of decency. The other priest who for an act of immorality was also carried about the streets may have been more common. When all the clergy married as a matter of course such scandals ceased.

As I have reproduced certain charges against the clergy and Religious of the old Faith, it is but fair to give an example of the bad character of one, at least, belonging to the clergy of the Reformation. The following letter is addressed to the Lady Bowes:—

“Right Worshipfull,

I understand that one Raphe Cleaton ys curate of the chappell at Buxton; his wages are, out of his neighbour’s benevolence, about V^{LI} yearely; Sir Charles Cavendishe had the tythes there this last years, ether of his owne right or my Lord’s, as th’ inhabitants saye. The minister aforenamed differeth little from those of the worste sorte, and hath dipt his finger both in manslaughter and p’jurie, etc. The placings or displacing of the curate there resteth in Mr. Salker, commissarie of Bakewell, of which churche Buxton is a chappell of ease.

I humbly thanke your Worship for your letter to the justices at the cessions; for Sir Peter Fretchvell, togither with Mr. Bainbrigg, were verie earnest against the badd vicar of Hope; and lykewyse Sir Jermane Poole, and all the benche, savinge Justice Bentley, who used some vaine (talk) on his behalfe, and affirmed that my Lady Bowes had been disprooved before Mr. Lord of Shrowesburie in reports touching the vicar of Hope; but such answere was made therto as his mouthe was stopped; yet the latter daie, when all the justic’s but himselffe and one other were rysen, he wold have had the said vicar lycensed to sell ale in his vicaredge, althoe the whole benche had comanded the contrarye; whereof Sir Jermane Poole being adv’tised, retyrned to the benchs (contradicting his speeche) whoe, with Mr. Bainbrigge, made their warrant to bringe before them, him, or anie other person that shall, for him, or in his vicaridge, brue, or sell ale, etc. He ys not to bee punished by the Justices for the multytude of his women, untyll the basterds whereof he is the reputed father bee brought in. I am the more boulde to wryte so longe of this sorrie matter, in respect you maye take so much better knowledge of Sir Jo. Bentley, and his p’tialytie in so vile a cause; and esteeme and judge of him according to that wisdome and good discretion. Thus, humbly cravinge p’don, I comitt your good Wors. to the everlasting Lorde, who ever keepe you.” This is quoted by N. Drake in _Shakespeare and his Times_, vol. i. p. 92.

And here is Ben Jonson’s portrait of the City Parson—none too flattering:—

“He is the prelate of the parish here And governs all the dames, appoints the cheer, Writes down the bills of fare, pricks all the guests, Makes all the matches and the marriage feasts Within the Ward; draws all the parish wills, Designs the legacies, and strokes the gills Of the chief mourners; and, whoever lacks, Of all the kindred, he hath first his blacks. Thus holds he weddings up and burials, As his main tithing; with the gossips’ stalls, Their pews; he’s top still at the public mess; Comforts the widow and the fatherless, In funeral sack; sits ’bove the alderman; For of the wardmote quest, he better can The mystery than the Levitic law; That piece of clerkship doth his vestry awe. He is as he conceives himself, a fine, Well furnished, and apparelled divine.”

Harrison, however, speaks up for the credit of the Reformed Clergy.

The observance of Lent was maintained by law, but with difficulty, and the law was continually broken. It was a distinguishing mark of the Puritan to eat flesh on the forbidden days. Queen Elizabeth ordered that no flesh should be eaten on “fish days,” namely, the forty days of Lent, Ember Days, Rogation Days, and Fridays. Licenses, however, were granted for those who either on account of bodily infirmity, or any other cause, were forbidden to fast. The license cost, for a nobleman or his wife, 26s. 8d. per annum; for a knight or his wife, 13s. 4d. per annum; and for those of lower degree, 6s. 8d. per annum.

Thus began the evasion of the law. Butchers were licensed to kill for those privileged to eat flesh. In 1581 the House of Lords call upon the Mayor to explain why forty butchers are allowed to kill during Lent, and how it is that the eating of flesh at that season is common in the City. The Mayor replies that the facts are otherwise, and that the number of licensed butchers is only five, viz. two for either Shambles and one for Southwark.

In 1552 only three butchers are licensed. Evidently the Mayor tries strong measures. But there are more complaints from the Lords.

In 1586 the House of Lords again send representations to the Mayor.

In 1587 the Mayor, evidently wishing to shift responsibility, says that it is difficult to restrain butchers. Perhaps the House of Lords will undertake the duty of licensing. The House of Lords declines to undertake the work of the Mayor.

In 1590 the Mayor complains of butchers being licensed in privileged places. What does this mean?

In 1591 he gives licenses to six butchers. He then finds out what we have been suspecting all along, that cattle and sheep were killed outside his jurisdiction, and that flesh was brought into the City by the gates. He also proves that within the City itself a great deal more meat is killed than was wanted for Shrovetide. Here we have a proof of the Puritanic spirit. The unlicensed butchers, on the eve of Lent, kill a great deal more than is wanted for Shrovetide; the licensed butchers go on killing. Do they sell to none but persons who have paid for the privilege? And every day carcases are brought in at the gates wrapped up in some kind of cloth for disguise.

In 1615 the Mayor gives up the attempt. He says that all butchers kill and sell meat in Lent, on Fridays, and that the people buy it freely on Fridays and on the other forbidden days.

Still there is maintained the pretence of an enforced fast during Lent until the Civil War, after which there are no more attempts to make the people fast, while many of the better class, clergy and others, continue to abstain from meat on the forbidden days.

There are grave complaints, both before and after the Reformation, about the behaviour of the people in church. The complaints point to two widely different causes. The first cause, that which operated before the Reformation, was undoubtedly the formalism into which religion had fallen. To be present at Mass, merely to be present, to kneel at the right time, was the whole of religion. Sir Thomas More, a most devout Catholic, complains bitterly of the irreverence of people at church service. Outward behaviour, he says, “is a plain express mirror or image of the mind, inasmuch as by the eyes, by the cheeks, by the eyelids, by the brows, by the hands, by the feet, and finally by the gesture of the whole body, right well appeareth how madly and fondly the mind is set and disposed.” He applies this observation to himself and the congregation. Sometimes “we solemnly get to and fro, and other whiles fairly and softly set us down again.” “When we have to kneel we do it upon one knee, or we have one cushion to kneel upon and another to support the elbows. We never pretend to listen: we pare our nails; we claw our head.”

The second cause was the rise of the new Religion. It was inevitable that with the destruction of the old forms a period of irreverence should set in. The churches quickly began to show signs of neglect. The windows were broken, the doors were unhinged, the walls fell into decay, the very roofs were in some places stripped of their lead. “The Book of God,” says Stubbes, “was rent ragged, and all be-torn.” Some of the churches were used for stabling horses. Armed men met in the churchyard, and wrangled, or shot pigeons with hand-guns over the graves. Pedlars sold their wares in the church porches during service. Morrice-dancers excited inattention and wantonness by their presence in costume, so as to be ready for the frolics which generally followed prayers. “Many there are,” said Sandys, preaching before Elizabeth even after her reforms, “that hear not a sermon in seven years, I might say in seventeen.” The friends of the new doctrine expected that all the evils of the time would be instantly remedied. But the work of reform was extremely gradual.

A third reason is offered for the irreverence of the people during service, this time during the Anglican service. Many people walked about, talked and laughed. This, however, was to show their contempt for the new order; they were secretly attached to the ancient Faith; they betrayed their sympathies, not only by this intolerance, but also by crossing themselves and telling their beads in secret.

Many of the ancient customs remained. It was long before the people, in London, could be persuaded to give up their old customs. Sunday remained the weekly holiday: the people held on Sundays their wakes, ales, rush-bearings, May games, bear-baitings, dancing, piping, picnics, and gaming; they continued so to “break the Sabbath”—which was first made part of the Christian week by the Puritans—until well into the seventeenth century. After the Commonwealth I think that there were very few traces of old customs lingering in the country, and only those, such as the hanging of garlands in the chancel when a maiden died, which carried with them no doctrinal significance and could prove no occasion for drunkenness and debauchery.

Before the coming of the Puritans the funerals continued with much of the old ritual. The body was laid out in such state as the family circumstances allowed: tapers were burned round it by night and by day; the church bells still rang for the prayers of the people, though they were taught that to pray for the dead was a vain thing; the priests who visited the house of the dead repeated the Lord’s Prayer; if on the way to the churchyard the procession passed a cross, they stopped and knelt, and made prayers; the body was laid in the grave wrapped in a shroud, without a coffin; it was covered by a pall, which was decorated with crosses. Those of the ancient Faith would persuade the clergymen, if they could, to omit the service; if he persisted, they left the grave and walked away. Nothing was a stronger tie to the old Religion than its burial service, and its assurance that the dead who died in the Church were assured of Heaven after due purgatory, and that the prayers of the living were of avail to shorten the pains of prison.

Machyn, the City Chronicler of this period, thus describes the simplicity of a Protestant funeral:—

“The iij day of Aprell was browth unto saint Thomas of Acurs in Chepe from lytyll sant Barthellmuw in Lothberes masteres ... and ther was a gret compene of pepull, ij and ij together, and nodur prest nor clarke, the nuw prychers in ther gowne lyke leymen, nodur syngyng nor sayhyng tyll they came to the grave, and a-for she was pute into the grayff a collect in Englys, and then put into the grayff, and after took some heythe, and caste yt on the corse and red a thynge ... for the sam, and contenent cast the heth into the grave, and contenent red the pystyll of sant Poll to the Stesselonyans the chapter, and after thay song pater noster in Englys, boyth prychers and odur and women of a nuw fassyon, and after on of them whent into the pulpytt and made a sermon.”

The following note by Machyn presents one of the last appearances of the old Sanctuary customs:—

“The vi day of December the abbot of Westminster went a procession with his convent; before him went all the sanctuary men with crosse keys upon their garments, and after whent iij for murder: one was the Lord Dacre’s sone of the Northe was wypyd with a shett abowt him for Kyllyng of on master West, sqwyre, dwellyng besyd ...; and anodur theyff that dyd long to one of master comtroller ... dyd kylle Recherd Eggyllston the comtroller’s tayller, and killed him in the Lord Acurs, the bak-syd Charyng-crosse; and a boy that kyld a byge boye that sold papers and pryntyd bokes, with horlyng of a stone and yt hym under the ere in Westmynster Hall; the boy was one of the chylderyn that was at the sckoll ther in the abbey; the boy was a hossear [hosier] sune a-boyff London-stone.” (_Diary of Henry Machyn_, p. 121.)

The good old institution of Sanctuary died hard. Even after it was supposed to have been finished and put away it continued to linger. Abbot Feckenham made a vigorous appeal for its preservation. “All princes,” he said, “and all Lawmakers, Solon in Athens, Lycurgus in Lacedemon, all have had _loca refugii_, places of succour and safe-guard for such as have transgressed laws and deserved corporal pains. Since, therefore, ye mean not to destroy all sanctuaries, and if your purpose be to maintain any, or if any be worthy to be continued, Westminster, of all others, is most worthy, and that for four causes: the first is, the antiquity and continuance of sanctuary there; the second, the dignity of the person by whom it was ordained; the third, the worthiness of the place itself; the fourth, the profit and commodity that you have received thereby.”

It is a common charge against the Dissolution of the Religious Houses that the old custom of open tables for all comers fell into disuse. The disuse is not without exceptions. The Houses being suppressed, of course the hospitality disappeared; but the practice was still kept up by some of the Bishops: Archbishop Parker, for instance, fed every day a number of poor people who waited outside the gates of Lambeth for the broken meats; while any one who chose to come in, whether at dinner or at supper, was received and entertained either at the Steward’s or the Almoner’s table. Order was observed; no loud talking was permitted; and the discourse was directed towards framing men’s manners to Religion. Whether the practice of indiscriminate doles should have been kept up is another question, and one that cannot be asked of the sixteenth century. The state and dignity maintained by this Archbishop were almost worthy of Cardinal Wolsey: the Queen gave him a patent for forty retainers, but his household consisted of five times that number, all living with him and dining at his table in Lambeth Palace.

The Church House was an ecclesiastical edifice which has now entirely passed away. I know nothing about the Church House except what is found in the _Archæological Journal_, vol. xl. p. 8.

“Not a single undoubted specimen has been spared to us, though it is not improbable that the half-timbered building attached to the west end of the church at Langdon, in Essex, and now called the Priest House, is really one of these. We have evidence from all parts of the country that they were once very common. There is, indeed, hardly an old churchwarden’s account-book which goes back beyond the changes of the sixteenth century that does not contain some reference to a building of this kind. They continued in being and to be used for church purposes long after the Reformation. The example at All Saints, Derby, stood in the churchyard and was in existence in 1747.”... “We must picture to ourselves then a long, low room with an ample fireplace, or rather a big open chimney occupying one end with a cast hearth. Here the cooking was done, and here the water boiled for brewing the church ale. There was a large oak table in the middle with benches around, and a lean-to building on one side to act as a cellar. This, I think, is not an inaccurate sketch of a building which played no unimportant part in our rural economy and rural pleasures. All the details are wanting, and we can only fill them in by drawing on the imagination. We know that almost all our churches were made beautiful by religious painting on the walls. I should not be surprised if we some day discovered that the church-house came in for its share of art, and that pictures, not religious in the narrow sense, but grotesque and humorous, sometimes covered the walls. It was in the church-house that the ales were held. They were provided for in various ways, but usually by the farmers, each of whom was wont to give his quota of malt. There was no malt tax in those days, and as a consequence there was a malt-kiln in almost every village. These ales were held at various times. There was almost always one on the Feast of the Dedication of the Church. Whitsuntide was also a very favourite time; but they seem to have been held at any convenient time when money was wanted for the church.... Philip Stubbes, the author of the _Anatomie of Abuses_, only knew the Church Ales in their decline. He was, Anthony Wood informs us, a most rigid Calvinist, a bitter enemy to Popery, so that his picture must be received with allowances for exaggeration. His account of them is certainly not a flattering one. He tells us that ‘The Churche Wardens ... of every parishe, with the consent of the whole parishe, provide halfe a score or twentie quarters of mault, wherof some they buye of the churche stocke, and some is given them of the parishioners themselves, everyone conferryng some-what, accordyng to his abilitie; which mault beeyng made into very strong ale or beere is sette to sale, either in the churche or some other place assigned to that purpose. Then, when this ... is sette abroche, well is he that can gette soonest to it and spend the most at it; for he that sitteth the closest to it and spendes the moste at it, he is counted the godliest man of all the rest, and moste in God’s favour, because it is spent uppon His church forsoth. But who, either for want can not, or otherwise for feare of God’s wrath will not sticke to it, he is counted none destitute both of vertue and godlines.... In this kind of practise they continue six weekes, a quarter of a yere, yea helfe a yeare together, swillyng and gullyng, night and daie, till they be as dronke as rattes, and as blockishe as beastes.... That money ... if all be true which they saie ... they repair their churches and chappels with it, they buie bookes for service, cuppes for the celebration of the sacrements, surplesses for Sir John, and such other necessaries.’”

The burning of St. Paul’s steeple created a great sensation, and was by some regarded as an act of God’s wrath for the recent changes. Maitland[3] quotes an original letter describing the disaster:—

“A.D. 1561, on Wednesday the 4th of June, as appears by a Letter before me from Mr. Richard Jones to Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, Ambassador from Queen Elizabeth to the Court of France, communicated by the honourable Mr. Yorke, it rained all the Day, and, towards Four of the Clock in the Afternoon, it began to thunder terribly: ‘When suddenly a Thunder-bolt, with a great Thunder following, hit within a Yard of the very top of the Steeple, which forthwith shewed his Effect, and appeared a little Fire, like unto the Light of a Torch, which, increasing towards the Weather-cock, caused the same within a quarter of an hour to fall down; whereby the Wind, which was great, and the more vehement by reason of the opening of the Steeple and Height thereof, caused the Flame so to augment, and burn the Steeple, which no Man could succour, as within an Hour the high Steeple of Paul’s, which was so long in building, and so renowned, was utterly consumed to the very Battlements; which being of some Breadth and Strength, as was needful to uphold such a weight, received most part of the Timber which fell from the Spire, and began to burn with such Vehemence, as all the Timber was burnt, the Iron and Bells melted and fallen down upon the stairs within a short space. This was judged to be the end of the effect of the lightning; when forthwith the East and West roofs of the Church, partly kindled with the timber which fell from the Battlements, and with the heating of the Fire whiles it remained within the Stone Steeple, were on Fire, and ceased not to burn so extremely, as could not be provided for by no means, till that not only those ends, but the north and south ails, before one of the Clock after Midnight, were consumed, and not a piece of Timber left, nor Lead unmolten, upon any of the higher and cross Roofs and Battlements. The side Ails, tho’ they were a little touched, by reason of their Crowns, remained safe, Thanks be to God. And this is all that is happened by this Misfortune, and the Church within is untouched. Your Lordship may guess what Stir and Removing there was in St. Paul’s Church-yard, especially towards the North door, where divers Houses were pulled down, and much lamentation on all sides. On the East End a Pinnacle fell down and ruined a House, wherein there were seven Persons not hurt, but the good man of the House a little. Many other turmoils there were, as in like Cases it happens; which, as it grieves me to hear, so I am loth to write the same. The French here are not sorry for the Matter. All good and honest Men are sorry for it, and impute it to a terrible remembrance of God’s Anger towards us for our Offences. This is enough and too much of so grievous a matter; and yet I thought I should perhaps satisfy your Lordship in writing thereof thus largely.

R. JONES.’

LONDON, _June 5th, 1561_.”

As might have been expected of a time when all the world was thinking and talking about religious doctrine, the unlearned as well as the learned, but with much more confidence and presumption, arguing entirely on the meaning of texts, passages, and detached clauses, there were fanatics in plenty. I have made a selection from the cases before me.

“William Hacket gave out that he was Jesus Christ, come to judge the World; which was soon proclaimed throughout the City of London by Edmond Coppinger and Henry Arthington, two of his Disciples; who, going from Hacket’s Lodgings, at Broken-Wharf, thro’ Watling-Street and the Old-Change, amidst an excessive Multitude, to Cheapside, they mounted an empty cart near the end of Gutter Lane, and proclaimed Mercy from Heaven to all such as should repent and believe that Christ (William Hacket) was come with his Fan in his hand to judge the Earth, and to establish the Gospel in Europe, and that he was then to be seen, with his glorious Body, at one Walker’s, at Broken-Wharf; and that they were Prophets, the one of Mercy, and the other of Judgment, sent by God Himself as Witnesses, and to assist in the present great Work. The first of whom incessantly proclaimed Mercy and Joys inexpressible to all such as should receive this acceptable Message; and the last denounced terrible Judgments against the Obdurate, which should not only immediately fall upon the Incredulous in this City, but that likewise all such were condemned to eternal Punishments; and, in a particular and very treasonable Manner, thundered out bitter invectives against the Queen and her Ministry; wherefore they were all apprehended, and Hacket, the pretended Messiah, soon after tried and convicted at the Old-Baily of Treason; whence he was carried to the Place of Execution in Cheapside, where, instead of shewing the least Sorrow for his Crimes, he committed the most horrid and execrable Blasphemies against God, and detestable imprecations against the Queen and her Ministers; and his associate, Coppinger, refusing all Manner of sustenance, died the next Day in Bridewell, as did Arthington, his Companion, some Time after in Wood Street Compter.” Evidently three enthusiasts all equally mad and equally obstinate.

Later on, also, was the case of Anne Burnell (Sharpe, i. 552):—

“The strain which the continuation of the war and the threatened renewal of a Spanish invasion imposed upon the inhabitants of London at large was a great one, and appears to have affected the mind of a weak and hysterical woman, Anne Burnell. She gave out that she was a daughter of the King of Spain, and that the arms of England and Spain were to be seen, like stigmata, upon her back, as was vouched for by her servant, Alice Digges. After medical examination, which proved her statement to be ‘false and proceedinge of some lewde and imposterouse pretence,’ she and her maid were ordered to be whipt,—‘ther backes only beeinge layd bare,’—at the cart’s tail through the City on a market day, ‘with a note in writinge uppon the hinder part of their heades shewinge the cawse of their saide punishmente.’”

Again, there was the case of William Geffery and John Moore. These two unfortunate creatures were perfectly mad, and ought to have been locked up in Bethlehem. Said William Geffery to the other lunatic, “Christ is not in Heaven, John. He is on earth and like unto us.” “He is,” John replied, “and thou thyself, William Geffery, art none other than Christ.” “That,” said William, “is perfectly correct.” They therefore clapped John Moore in Bethlehem and William Geffery in the Marshalsea. This should have been enough. But it was not the fashion of the time ever to have enough of punishing. They therefore tied Geffery to the cart tail and flogged him all the way from the Marshalsea to Bethlehem, a matter of two miles. At the gate of Bethlehem the cart was stopped. Then John Moore was brought out, and Geffery was flogged again until he confessed his error and acknowledged that Christ was in Heaven and that he himself was nothing but a sinful man. They then stripped John Moore and tied him to the cart tail; at first he took the punishment smiling, but before going an arrow’s shot he begged them to stop, and confessed that he was wrong. So they both went back: John Moore to Bethlehem and William Geffery to the Marshalsea, and we hear no more of them.

The Anabaptists were another perverse people who met with no mercy. On 3rd April 1575 there was found a congregation of Anabaptists in a house outside Aldgate Bars. Twenty-seven in all were arrested. On the 15th of May four of them, bearing faggots to show that they deserved death, recanted at Paul’s Cross; on 22nd July two of them were burned at Smithfield, “who died in great horror, with roaring and crying.” Their recantation shows the doctrines they held.

“Whereas I.I.T.R.H. being seduced by the devil, the spirit of error, and by false teachers his ministers, have fallen into certain most detestable and damnable heresies, namelie:—

1. That Christ tooke not flesh of the substance of the blessed Virgin Marie.

2. That infants of the faithful ought not be baptized.

3. That a Christian man may not be a magistrate, or beare the sword or office of authoritie.

4. That it is not lawful for a Christian to take an oth. Now by the Grace of God, and through conference with good and learned ministers of Christ His church, I doo understand and acknowledge the same to be most damnable and detestable heresies, and doo aske God here before His church mercie for my said former errors, and doo forsake them, recant and renounce them, and abjure them from the botome of my heart, professing that I certainly believe:

1. That Christ tooke flesh of the substance of the blessed Virgin Marie.

2. That infants of the faithfull ought to be baptized.

3. That a Christian man may be a magistrate, or beare the sword or office of authoritie.

4. That it is lawful for a Christian man to take an oth. And further that I confess that the whole doctrine and religion established and published in this realme of England, as also that which is received and preached in the Dutch Church, from henceforth utterlie abandoning and forsaking all and every anabaptistical error. This is my faith now, in the which I doo purpose and trust to stand firme and stedfast to the end. And that I may soo doo, I beseech you all to praie with me, and for me, to God the heavenlie father, in the name of his son our Saviour Jesus Christ.”

Before this, one man and ten women were tried in the Consistory of St. Paul’s and sentenced to be burned, but one woman having been converted, they resolved on banishing the rest, who were Dutch. Accordingly the nine women were led by the sheriff, and the man was tied to a cart tail and whipped all the way from Newgate to the river, where they were shipped. And there was a certain sect called the Family of Love, which gave some trouble through their obstinacy. In the year 1575 five of them recanted; in 1580 the sect were thought of sufficient importance to justify a proclamation against them. The tenets of the people do not appear, but they were accused of holding it laudable to deny their connection with their own sect, which made it impossible to convict them by their own confession.

The case of Matthew Hamont, plough-wright, may conclude these cases of strange hallucinations and the conclusions of a disordered brain. He was a common man of no education, who took to thinking and reading about doctrines which he could not understand. He finally arrived at the conclusion that the New Testament, with the Gospels, is but an invention of man, that Christ was a mere man, and so on, shrinking from nothing. This poor lunatic they gravely tried, and because he had spoken words against the Queen, they first cut off both his ears, and then, after giving him a week of pain from his wounds, they burned him for a heretic.