On Christmas Day they again went to St. Paul’s to hear vespers and compline, the Mayor sitting on the right hand of the Dean.
On Whit Monday the Mayor, Aldermen, and Sheriffs met in the Church of St. Peter, Cornhill: they were met by the clergy of the City churches, and, a procession being formed in which the clergy led the way, they walked through Chepe to St. Paul’s. Entering by the north side they were met by the officials of the Cathedral, and escorted through the transepts to the south side, where they went out, and walking through “the Close of Watling Street,” i.e. the south part of St. Paul’s Precinct, they entered at the great door of the west. In the nave they heard the hymn, “Veni Creator,” while a winged angel in white robes censed the people from the roof. This done, the Mayor advanced to the Altar and laid his offering upon it. It will be observed that he represented the City, and prayed for the guidance of the Holy Spirit not for himself but for the whole City.
On Whit Tuesday the same ceremony was observed. But the procession was formed at the Church of St. Michael le Querne, outside the Precinct of Paul’s, and was joined by the common folk of Middlesex. The same ceremony was performed in the Cathedral. On Whit Wednesday the same ceremony was performed for the third time, but with the common folk of Essex. The Mayor on these two days represented, therefore, the people of two counties.
QUEEN MARGARET, WIFE OF HENRY VI., AT PRAYERS
From Wadmore’s Some Account of the Worshipful Company of Skinners.
There were many other occasions in the year when the Mayor went in state to certain City churches.
On occasions of rejoicings there were also special visits. Thus, on the news of the birth of Edward the Third the Mayor and Aldermen repaired immediately to the Cathedral, where the Bishop sang mass, and after mass, to the sound of trumpets, the Mayor and Aldermen “led the Carol” (“menerent la Karole”). A few days after a great pageant was celebrated in the City.
Mention is made above of one or two charms against certain diseases. It must not be forgotten that for every disease there was a saint who could ward it off. It was part of the wise woman’s lore to know all these saints and to invoke their aid when she applied her herbs. Here is a list:—St. Appolus preserved the teeth, St. Otilia the eyes, St. Vitus the brain, St. Laurence the back and shoulders, St. Valentine prevented the falling sickness, St. Erasmus saved from colic, St. Blasius from quinsy, St. Peruel from ague, St. John from prison (a very dreadful disease), St. Mark from sudden death, St. Suran from infamy, St. Wolfgang from gout, St. Agatha from fire, St. Christopher from ghosts, St. Anne from wealth—why was not she the patron saint of this merchant city? St. Wendlin kept the cattle, St. Antony the hogs, St. Gertrude drove off mice and rats, St. Magnus grasshoppers, St. Nicolas protected mariners, St. Indocus the crops, St. George looked after the horsemen, St. Luke the painters, St. Cosmus the physicians, St. Leonard the prisoners, St. Botolph the travellers, while all these functions and many others were ascribed to the Virgin Mary, in whom was centred all the love and faith and veneration and hope possible among millions of ignorant women governed by their affections and passions.
They were great believers in charms in those days: in the peril of child-birth the women purified the chamber to keep off evil spirits; the men went to sea, on a journey, to battle, with charms hung round their necks to keep them safe. These charms were sometimes a verse of the Gospel enclosed in a silver box hung about the neck with a silver chain: or words meaning nothing, or crosses drawn with blood or painted; the men had their swords charmed or blessed; they had their horses charmed. Again, the people were great believers in astrology, necromancy, and the influence of the moon. Before undertaking anything the position of the moon was first consulted. Unless this was favourable they would not only abstain from beginning any enterprise of importance, but they would not bathe, or cut their hair, or pare their nails, or even take medicine. Some of these superstitions we know still linger, but they exercise no real influence. Lucky and unlucky days are all forgotten: omens are very feeble things, we have practically outgrown them. But we must realise that in the London of the fourteenth century the whole population were under the governance of superstitions; I am not speaking of their religion, but of the superstitious beliefs that are outside religious dogma and religious observance. The time seems to those who look into it full of activity, full of joyousness, full of brightness. All these things, undoubtedly, do belong to Plantagenet London. Wealth, good work, good wages, splendid dress, good food, good wine, good ale, and outdoor life—yet, withal, an ever-present dread of the unknown, of the immediate future, of what chance, luck, fate or the anger of a saint might bring. It was, in a word, the life which seizes with avidity on the present, and enjoys what the gods provide from day to day.