Edward I. was united to Margaret at the door of [p 26] Canterbury Cathedral on September 9th, 1299, and other mediæval notices of the custom occur.
The first prayer-book of Edward VI. introduced an alteration which has been maintained ever since; the new rubric reading that “The persons to be married shall come into the body of the Church,” just as it does in our modern prayer-books. In France the custom survived as late as the seventeenth century, at least in some instances, for the marriage of Charles I., who was represented by a proxy, and Henrietta Maria was performed at the door of Notre Dame in Paris. In Herrick’s “Hesperides” is a little poem entitled “The Entertainment, or, A Porch-verse at the marriage of Mr. Henry Northly and the most witty Mrs. Lettice Yard.” It commences:—
“Welcome! but yet no entrance till we blesse
First you, then you, then both for white success.”
This was published in the midst of the great Civil War, and seems to show that the custom of marriage at the church porch was still sufficiently known, even if only by tradition, to make allusions to it “understanded of the people.”
Burials sometimes took place in the church [p 27] porch, in those days when interment within the building was much sought after.
Ecclesiastical Courts were frequently held in church porches, as at the south door of Canterbury Cathedral; schools were occasionally established in them; and here the dower of the bride was formally presented to the bridegroom. This last-named use of the porch is illustrated by a deed of the time of Edward I., by which Robert Fitz Roger, a gentleman of Northamptonshire, bound himself to marry his son within a given time to Hawisia, daughter of Robert de Tybetot, and “to endow her at the church door” with property equal to a hundred pounds per annum. We still have evidence of the fact that the church door was of old considered the most prominent and public place in the parish in the continued use of it as the official place for posting legal notices of general interest, such as lists of voters, summonses for public meetings, and so forth.
There are often in connection with ancient ecclesiastical foundations doors and gateways which are of great interest, though they can scarcely be called church doors. Of this class are the entrances to the chapter houses of [p 28] cathedrals, many of which are very fine. At York, for example, the chapter-house, which proudly asserts in an inscription near the entrance that, “as the rose is among the flowers, so is it among buildings,” has a doorway not unworthy of the beautiful interior.
The gateway which gave admittance to the sacred enclosure of the abbey—the garth or close round which were ranged the monastic buildings—is in many cases an imposing and elaborate piece of architecture. Bristol has an interesting Norman gateway, and that at Durham is massive and impressive, as are all the conventual remains there. Norwich is specially rich in this respect. The Erpingham Gate was the gift of Sir Thomas Erpingham, who died in 1420, and whom the King, in Shakespere’s play of “King Henry V.” (Act iv. sc. I), calls a “good old knight;” S. Ethelbert’s Gate was built at the cost of Bishop Alnwick, who ruled the see from 1426 to 1436.
But to speak of these things is to wander from our present subject, and even that is too wide to be dealt with fully in a paper such as this. The legends and traditions of the church porch might occupy many a page, while we gossiped over the mystic rites of S. John’s Eve or of All Hallow [p 29] E’en; or while we told how Ralph, Bishop of Chichester, barred his cathedral door with thorns in his anger against the King and his friends; or how the skins of marauding Danes have in more than one instance been nailed as leather coverings to the doors of English churches. Enough, however, has probably been said to show the wealth of interest which may often be found to hang about the old church porch, in which the village church may often be as rich as the great cathedral or the stately abbey.