“The chronicles of the Cathedral tell the story of the troublous times of the Wars of the Roses. We see Henry IV. pretending bitter sorrow for the death of the murdered Richard, and covering with cloth-of-gold the body, which had been exhibited to the people in St. Paul’s. We see Henry V. returning in triumph from the French wars, riding in state to the Cathedral attended by ‘the mayor and brethren of the City companies, wearing red gowns with hoods of red and white, well-mounted and gorgeously horsed with rich collars and great chains, rejoicing at his victorious return.’ Then came Henry VI. attended by bishops, the dean and canons, to make his offering at the altar. Here the false Duke of York took his oath on the Blessed Sacrament to be loyal to the King. Here the rival houses swore to lay aside their differences, and to live at peace. But a few years later saw the new King Edward IV., at St. Paul’s, attended by great Warwick, the king-maker, with his body-guard of 800 men-at-arms. Strange were the changes of fortune in those days. Soon St. Paul’s saw the exhibition of the dead body of the king-maker, and not long afterwards that of the poor dethroned Henry, and Richard came in state here amid the shouts of the populace. After the defeat of the conspiracy of Lambert Simnel, Henry VII. celebrated a joyous thanksgiving in the Cathedral, and here, amid much rejoicing, the youthful marriage of Prince Arthur with Katherine of Aragon took place, when the conduits of Cheapside and on the west of the Cathedral ran with wine, and the bells rang joyfully, and all wished happiness to the Royal children whose wedded life was destined to be so brief.
“St. Paul’s became the gathering-place for lords and courtiers and professional people, who met every day from eleven till twelve and from three till six to discuss the news of the day and to transact business.
“Here lawyers received their clients; here men sought service; here usurers met their victims, and the tombs and font were mightily convenient for counters for the exchange of money and the transaction of bargains, and the rattle of gold and silver was constantly heard amidst the loud talking of the crowd. Gallants enter the Cathedral wearing spurs, having just left their steeds at The Bell and Savage and are immediately besieged by the choristers, who have the right of demanding spur money from any one entering the building wearing spurs. Nor are the fair sex absent, and Paul’s Walk was used as a convenient place for assignations. Old plays are full of references to this practice. Later on the nave was nothing but a public thoroughfare, where men tramped, carrying baskets of bread and fish, flesh and fruit, vessels of ale, sacks of coal, and even dead mules and horses and other beasts. Hucksters and peddlers sold their wares. Duke Humphrey’s tomb was the great meeting-place of all beggars and low rascals, and they euphemistically called their gathering ‘a dining with Duke Humphrey.’ Much more could be written of this assembly of all sorts and conditions of men, but we have said enough to show that the Cathedral had suffered greatly from desecration and abuse. Indeed an old writer in 1561 declared that the burning of the steeple in that year was a judgment for the scenes of profanation which were daily witnessed in old St. Paul’s.”—(P. H. D.)
Cromwell’s army demolished shrines and destroyed all the relics and works of art, and seamstresses and hucksters took up their abode in the western portico, built by Charles I. after designs by Inigo Jones. At the Restoration plans to repair and restore the Cathedral were being made by Wren when the Great Fire destroyed it. Wren had the task of rebuilding it, and produced a masterpiece that takes rank with St. Peter’s in Rome and even surpasses it in some of its details.
“The stones of Paul’s,” wrote Evelyn, “flew like granados, the melting lead running down the streets in a stream and the very pavements glowing with fiery redness, so as no horse or man was able to tread on them, and the demolition had stopped all the passages, so that no help could be applied.”
It took a long time to remove the ruins and to decide upon the plan for the successor of Old St. Paul’s. Wren made numerous designs and drawings and there was great delay. At length the royal warrant was obtained and the first stone was laid June 21, 1675, at the south-east corner of the choir. The Cathedral was building for thirty-five years. The choir was finished and service held in it on December 2, 1697. It is sad to remember that the great architect was a victim of jealousy and intrigue, and pleasant to know that he lived to see the glorious church that had taken form in his mind completed. It was finished in 1710.
“Was there ever known in the history of the world any cathedral which suffered from fire like St. Paul’s? The whole career of the church was an ordeal by fire. It was injured by fire a hundred years before Westminster Hall was built; it was totally destroyed by fire in the Eleventh Century and it took nearly two centuries to restore it to anything like its former magnificence. ‘Away! we lose ourselves in light,’ might have been its motto, for it was all but completely destroyed by fire in the Fifteenth Century, and its spire, which was then claimed to be the highest in the world, was destroyed by fire a century later. Thus we have brought it to the terrible days of 1666, when it went under with so much of London to accompany it—one of the most tremendous conflagrations recorded in the history of great cities. Then came the Commission to rebuild it, of which brave John Evelyn was a member, and then Sir Christopher Wren raised the monument to his fame which those who would question his renown have only to look upon and be satisfied.”—(J. McC.)
Coming along from Ludgate Hill we gain a splendid view of the impressive Dome emerging through the mists in the very heart of the City.
“St. Paul’s is often called Classical, or Roman, or Italian; it is not one of these three: it is English Renaissance. It was, too, a distinctly happy thought of Fergusson to suggest that the Cathedral takes a like place in English architecture to that which the immortal ‘Paradise Lost’ does in English literature. The plan is that of a mediæval church; the pilasters and entablature are Roman; the round arch is found in both Roman and Romanesque, and that commanding feature, the Dome, is the common property of many styles and many ages. The general plan resembles the long or Latin Cross, with transepts of greater breadth than length; and the uniformity is broken by an apse at the east, and the two chapels at the west end.”—(A. D.)