OLD CHURCH LORE.

WORKS BY WILLIAM ANDREWS, F.R.H.S.

Mr. William Andrews has produced several books of singular value in their historical and archæological character. He has a genius for digging among dusty parchments and old books, and for bringing out from among them that which it is likely the public of to-day will care to read.—Scotsman.

Old-Time Punishments.

This is an entertaining book ... well-chosen illustrations and a serviceable index.—Athenæum.

A work which will be eagerly read by all who take it up.—Scotsman.

A vast amount of curious and entertaining matter.—Sheffield Independent.

We can honestly recommend a perusal of this book.—Yorkshire Post.

A very readable history.—Birmingham Daily Gazette.

Mr. Andrews’ book is well worthy of careful study, and is a perfect mine of wealth on the subject of which it treats.—Herts Advertiser.

Curiosities of the Church.

A volume both entertaining and instructive, throwing much light on the manners and customs of bygone generations of Churchmen, and will be read to-day with much interest.—Newbery House Magazine.

An extremely interesting volume.—North British Daily Mail.

A work of lasting interest.—Hull Examiner.

Full of interest.—The Globe.

The reader will find much in this book to interest, instruct, and amuse.—Home Chimes.

We feel sure that many will feel grateful to Mr. Andrews for having produced such an interesting book.—The Antiquary.

Historic Yorkshire.

Cuthbert Bede, the popular author of “Verdant Green,” writing to Society, says: “Historic Yorkshire,” by William Andrews, will be of great interest and value to everyone connected with England’s largest county. Mr. Andrews not only writes with due enthusiasm for his subject, but has arranged and marshalled his facts and figures with great skill, and produced a thoroughly popular work that will be read eagerly and with advantage.

Historic Romance.

Strange Stories, Characters, Scenes, Mysteries, and Memorable Events in the History of Old England.

In his present work Mr. Andrews has traversed a wider field than in his last book, “Historic Yorkshire,” but it is marked by the same painstaking care for accuracy, and also by the pleasant way in which he popularises strange stories and out-of-the-way scenes in English History. There is much to amuse in this volume, as well as to instruct, and it is enriched with a copious index.—Notes and Queries.

A fascinating work.—Whitehall Review.

Famous Frosts and Frost Fairs in Great Britain.

Chronicled from the Earliest to the Present Time.

The work is thoroughly well written, it is careful in its facts, and may be pronounced exhaustive on the subject. Illustrations are given of several frost fairs on the Thames, and as a trustworthy record this volume should be in every good library. The usefulness of the work is much enhanced by a good index.—Public Opinion.

A great deal of curious and valuable information is contained in these pages.... A comely volume.—Literary World.

Not likely to fail in interest.—Manchester Guardian.

CLOG ALMANACK.

Old Church Lore.

BY
WILLIAM ANDREWS, F.R.H.S.,
AUTHOR OF
“CURIOSITIES OF THE CHURCH,” “OLD-TIME PUNISHMENTS,”
“HISTORIC YORKSHIRE,” ETC.

HULL:
WILLIAM ANDREWS & CO., THE HULL PRESS.

London: Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent, & Co.,
Limited.
1891.

Preface.

The welcome reception from the public and the press accorded to my volume entitled “Curiosities of the Church,” has induced me to issue another work on similar lines. Like that book, this one shows how closely the Church in bygone times was linked with the national and social life of the people.

An attempt has been made to blend instruction and entertainment, and present out-of-the-way facts drawn from unpublished documents and other sources, which do not usually come under the notice of the reader.

WILLIAM ANDREWS.

Hull Literary Club,
August 1st, 1891.

Contents.

OLD CHURCH LORE.

The Right of Sanctuary.

place where criminals and political offenders could find refuge was called a Sanctuary. It is generally agreed that in this country the privilege of sanctuary was instituted on the recognition of Christianity. From an early time down to the days of Henry VIII., fugitives were safe for certain periods in all the churches and churchyards of the land.

The origin of the usage is extremely remote. Most probably it existed among the Israelites before Moses gave directions for the establishment of cities of refuge, when the children of Israel settled in the Promised Land. The Greeks, Romans, Arabs, and American Indians had their places of refuge.

In England the laws respecting this subject are both numerous and curious. A code of laws made in the year 693 by Ina, King of the West Saxons, contains a recognition of the right of sanctuary. It is therein stated that, if any one accused of a capital offence takes refuge in a church, his life shall be spared, but the criminal is directed to make compensation for his crime. If the guilty one deserved stripes, they were not to be inflicted. According to Alfred the Great’s laws of the year 887, those guilty of slight offences were allowed to flee to a church, and there remain for three nights. Thus time was given them to compound for their misdemeanours, or to make suitable provision for their safety. Stringent measures were taken to guard against the violation of the sanctuary. The person who violated the sanctuary and inflicted bonds, blows, or wounds upon the refugee, had to pay the price set upon his life, and to the officiating ministers of the church, one hundred and twenty shillings, which was a large sum in those days. “If a criminal,” says the Rev. J. R. Boyle, F.S.A., in a carefully prepared paper on this theme, “fled to a church, no one should drag him thence within the space of seven days, if he could live so long without food, and had not attempted to force his way out. If the clergy had occasion to hold service in the church whilst the refugee was there, they might keep him in some house which had no more doors than the church had.”

The law of sanctuary was clearly defined in the year 1070 by William the Conqueror. The privilege of sanctuary was only temporary, and during the time of sanctuary, which was within forty days, the refugee might, if able, come to an agreement with his adversaries. If he failed to compound for his crime, he had to appear before the coroner, clothed in sackcloth, confess his crime, and abjure the realm. In an act passed in the year 1529, in the reign of Henry VIII., it is directed that “immediately after his confession, and before his abjuration, he was to be branded by the coroner with a hot iron upon the brawn of the thumb of his right hand with the sign of the letter A, to the intent he might be the better known among the king’s subjects to have abjured.” If the offender failed to make a confession of his crime to the coroner within forty days, and remained in the sanctuary, any one found furnishing him with food was regarded as guilty of felony.

Sir William Rastall, who was Chief-Justice of the Court of Common Pleas, in his “Collection of Statutes now in force,” London, 1594, supplies a copy of the form of confession and abjuration usually employed. It is as follows:—

“This hear thou, Sir Coroner, that I ............ of ....................................... am a ...................................., and because I have done such evils in this land, I do abjure the land of our lord the King, and shall haste me towards the port of [mentioning a port named by the coroner], and that I shall not go out of the highway, and if I do, I will that I be taken as a robber and a felon of our lord the King, and that at such place I will diligently seek for passage, and that I will tarry there but one flood and ebb, if I can have passage; and unless I can have it in such a place, I will go every day into the seas up to my knees assaying to pass over, and unless I can do this within forty days, I will put myself again into the church as a robber and a felon of our lord the King, so God me help and His holy judgment.”

The constables of the parishes through which the culprit passed conducted him over their highways to the port from whence he had to embark. We gather from “England in the Fifteenth Century,” by the Rev. W. Denton, M.A., that sanctuary men sent from London to Dover “frequently broke their promise to cross the Channel, betook themselves to the forest, and joined the bands of thieves who made the greenwood of the Weald of Kent their home.”

In the reign of Henry VIII. several acts were passed dealing with this subject. The reason why one of the acts was passed was the loss of the strength of the country by persons taking sanctuary and abjuring the realm, teaching foreigners archery, and also of disclosing the secrets of the realm. To prevent such loss, “it was enacted that every person abjuring was to repair to some sanctuary within the realm, which himself should choose, and there remain during his natural life; and to be sworn before the coroner upon his abjuration so to do.” If a sanctuary man left his retreat without being granted his discharge by the King’s pardon, he ran the risk of being tried for his original crime, and was prohibited from the protective power of the sanctuary. It was usual, in bygone times, for men to wear swords, but when any one took sanctuary he had to give up his weapons, and only use a knife at meal times to cut his meat. The governors of the sanctuaries directed the men under protection to wear a badge or cognisance “openly upon their upper garment, of the compass, in length and breadth, of ten inches,” under pain of forfeiting all the privileges of sanctuary. If they left their lodgings between sunset and sunrise it was at the peril of losing all right of protection. In the same reign, it was decreed that persons guilty of high treason, and pirates, should be excluded from the right of sanctuary. The most important measure bearing on this subject, passed in 1540, clearly indicates the adverse attitude assumed by Henry VIII. towards the privilege of sanctuary. He took away the rights from all places except parish churches and their churchyards, cathedrals, hospitals, and the sanctuaries at Wells, Westminster, Manchester, Northampton, Norwich, York, Derby, and Launceston. A year later, Chester was substituted for Manchester. It is stated that the inhabitants of Manchester were much troubled by the influx of dissolute persons seeking sanctuary. They intimated to Parliament that the refugees injured their trade, and further, that as they had “no mayor, sheriff, or bailiff, no walls, and no gaol for the confinement of offenders,” they prayed to have the privilege withdrawn. In the statute of 1540, the privilege of sanctuary was “abolished in cases of wilful murder, rape, burglary, highway robbery, or wilful burning of a house or barn containing corn.” Not more than twenty persons were to be sheltered in a sanctuary at one time.

An act passed in 1624, in the reign of James I., nominally abolished all privileges of sanctuary in England. It did not completely close all sanctuaries, for in them remained lawless characters, who had long been there, and whom it would not be deemed prudent to have at large. It is asserted that the sanctuary regulations were frequently broken, and that refugees committed robberies and other crimes in the immediate neighbourhood of their sanctuaries.

In the case of debtors, sanctuaries in a modified form existed down to the reign of William III., when, in the year 1697, an Act of Parliament abolished them.

English history furnishes many instances of sanctuary laws being disregarded. A familiar example is that of four Lancastrian knights flying from the battlefield of Tewkesbury, in 1471, and taking refuge in a church not far distant from the place. Edward, sword in hand, was about to follow them, and violate the sanctuary, but the priest who was celebrating mass refused to permit him to enter, until he agreed to pardon the knights. He made the promise, whereupon the refugees left the church. Subsequently they were made prisoners and executed.

The first time the sanctuary of Westminster Abbey was violated was in the year 1378. It was not only violated, but murder was committed. The particulars of the case are as follow. In one of the campaigns of the Black Prince, two esquires, named Frank de Hawle and John Shakle, made captive a French or Spanish Count. The prisoner had a friend in John of Gaunt, and he directed the captors to give up their prize, but they refused. John of Gaunt, without delay, imprisoned in the Tower the two men who had disobeyed his injunctions. They made their escape, and fled to Westminster Abbey, but were closely pursued by Sir Allan Boxhull, Constable of the Tower, Sir Ralph de Ferrers, and a band of fifty men in arms. It is believed that the two esquires made their way into the choir of the Abbey, and at a time when high mass was being celebrated. “The Deacon,” says Dean Stanley, “had just reached the words of the Gospel of the day, ‘If the goodman of the house had known what time the thief would appear——,’ when the clash of arms was heard, and the pursuers, regardless of time or place, burst upon the service. Shakle escaped, but Hawle was intercepted. Twice he fled round the choir, with his enemies hacking at him as he ran; and, pierced with twelve wounds, he sank dead in front of the Prior’s Stall—that is, at the north side of the entrance of the choir.” It is also recorded that his servant and a monk fell at the same time. Hawle was looked upon as a martyr to the injured rights of the Abbey. His remains were laid to rest within its walls, a most unusual honour at that period. The spot where he fell was marked with an inscription engraved on a stone, and over his grave was a brass effigy and a long epitaph, which remained till within the last century. The desecrated Abbey was closed for four months, and the Members of Parliament suspended their sittings within its precincts for fear of pollution. The two chief assailants were excommunicated.

In 1232, the sanctuary of the church at Brentwood, Essex, was violated by orders of the boy king, Henry III. He had allowed himself to be persuaded that the brave Hubert de Burgh had sold his country for French gold, and armed men were sent to make the stout knight prisoner. Hubert took refuge in Brentwood Church. His enemies broke in, dragged him from the very altar, and a smith was ordered to shackle him. “I will die any death,” said the smith, “before I put iron on the man who freed England from the stranger, and saved Dover from France!” so Hubert’s feet were tied below his horse, and he was carried to the King. A remonstrance from the Bishop of London caused the refugee to be replaced in the sanctuary, but his foes were still determined to have him. The Sheriff put stakes round the churchyard watched day and night, until hunger compelled a surrender, when Hubert was thrown into prison, and there died.

Elizabeth Woodville, Queen of Edward IV., twice found shelter in the sanctuary of Westminster. Here was born, on April 9th, 1470, Edward V. Skelton, our earliest Poet-Laureate, remained in this stronghold, in safety, writing furious invectives against Cardinal Wolsey. If he had not had the protection of sanctuary, it is believed he would have been doomed to destruction. “It was impregnable,” says Dean Stanley, “even by all the power of the Cardinal at the height of his grandeur.”

ANCIENT KNOCKER, DURHAM CATHEDRAL.

A curious example of the violation of a sanctuary occurred at Stafford. In the year 1300, a complaint was laid before the King by the Dean and Chapter of St. Mary’s, Stafford, to the effect that two men imprisoned for felony in Stafford gaol had escaped, and taken refuge in the church. The men were followed into the church, captured, and re-imprisoned. The prison authorities were directed to restore the men to the Dean and Chapter.

It may not be without interest to give some details of two important north country sanctuaries, Durham and Beverley. On the north door of the Cathedral of Durham is a ponderous bronze knocker, of which we give a drawing. It will be noticed that the knocker is in the form of a ring held between the teeth of a monster’s head. The person claiming sanctuary raised the ring of the knocker, and sounded it to obtain admission to the church, where, for a time, he felt safe out of the reach of his avengers. In the sacred building two men were on duty night and day, ever ready to quickly open the door. A bell was next tolled to make known the fact that a man had taken sanctuary. When a refugee sought protection an early intimation was made to the prior, who gave injunctions that he was to keep within the limits of the churchyard, which formed the bounds of the Durham sanctuary. In presence of a witness, a detailed account had to be given of the crime committed, dates, names of persons, places, etc., had to be given, and they were carefully noted. In cases of murder and manslaughter, the weapon employed had to be mentioned. A gown of black cloth, having on its left shoulder a cross, known as “the cross of St. Cuthbert,” was given him to wear. The badge was, we are told, “to the intent that every one might see that there was such a freelige granted by God unto St. Cuthbert’s shrine, for every such offender to flee for succour and safeguard of their lives.” The refugee at Durham was allowed the right of sanctuary for thirty-seven days, and provided with food and drink and bedding at the expense of the convent. If within that time he failed to make peace with his adversaries, he had to abjure the realm. He lost his property by this proceeding, but saved his life, or evaded some barbarous form of punishment which often resulted in mutilation of a most painful character.

The Surtees Society, on the 7th December, 1836, resolved to print the Records of the Sanctuaries of Durham and Beverley, and shortly afterwards the work was issued. The Durham notices are reproduced from the ordinary Registers of the Cathedral, and extends from 1464 to 1524. The following shows the number of crimes, and the calling of the men taking refuge:—

Murder and Homicide.—Crimes, 195. Persons implicated, 283. Trades of fugitives:—Husbandmen, 8; Labourers, 4; Yeomen, 4; Gentlemen, 4; Ecclesiastics, 3; Merchants, 2; Tailor, 1; Plumber, 1; Carpenter, 1; Tanner, 1; Baxster, 1; Glover, 1; Sailor, 1; Apprentice, 1; Under-Bailiff, 1; Servant, 1; Knight, 1 (an accessory). The occupations of the remainder are not mentioned. Debt, 16. Of these—Shermane, 1; Horslibber, 1; Merchant, 1; Flesher, 1. Horse-stealing, 4. Of these—Yeoman, 1. Cattle-stealing, 9. Escaping from Prison, 4. Of these—Shoemaker, 1. Housebreaking, 4. Rape, 1. Theft, 7. Of these—Yeoman, 1; Ecclesiastic, 1; Goldsmith, 1. Backward in his accounts, 1. For harbouring a thief, 1. For failing to prosecute, 1.

The list of weapons, etc., employed by the murderers is as under:—

Indefinite, 12; Armicudium, 1; Arrow, 5; Baselard 3; Bastard-sword, 1; Bill, 3; Carlisle Axe, 3; Club-staff, 11; Crabtree-staff, 1; Dagger, 56; Dicker, 1; Egelome, 1; Forest-bill, 1; Halbarde, 2; Hanging, 1; Hynger, 3; Iron-fork Shaft, 1; Kendal-club, 2; Lance, 10; Lance-staff, 4; Lang Pike-staff, 1; Long Plane-staff, 1; Pike-staff, 12; Plane-staff, 1; Pychyng-staff, 1; Pugio (a dagger), 1; Scotch Axe, 2; Small-staff, 1; Spear-staff, 2; Staff, 14; Staff, with a pummel, 1; Stone, 2; Sword, 21; Trodden to death, 1; Turf-spade, 1; Welsh-bill, 6; Whynyard (a short dagger), 6; Wood-axe, 3; Wood-knife, 1.

The right of sanctuary was granted to the church of St. John, Beverley, by Athelstan, and near the altar was placed a Fridstol, or chair of peace, denoting that here the refugee might find peace. According to Camden and Leland, the chair once bore a Latin inscription which has been translated thus: “This stone chair is called the Freed Stool, i.e., the Chair of Peace, to which what criminal soever flies hath full protection.” There is not at the present time any trace of an inscription on it. We only know of two sanctuary chairs which are still preserved in England, namely, one at Beverley and the other at Hexham.

BEVERLY SANCTUARY CHAIR.

The extent of the Beverley sanctuary was a circle round the church having a radius of about a mile, with the church as a centre, marked by stone crosses erected on the four principal roads leading to the town. “If a malefactor,” says Oliver, in his “History of Beverley,” “flying for refuge was taken or apprehended within the crosses, the party that took or had hold of him there, did forfeit two hundreth; if he took him within the town, then he forfeited four hundreth; if within the walls of the churchyard, then six hundreth; if within the church, then twelve hundreth; if within the doors of the quire, then eighteen hundreth, besides penance, as in case of sacrilege; but if he presumed to take him out of the stone chair near the altar, called Fridstol, or from among the holy relics behind the altar, the offence was not redeemable with any sum, but was then become sine emendatione, boteles, and nothing but the utmost severity of the offended church was to be expected, by a dreadful excommunication, besides what secular power would impose for the presumptuous misdemeanor.” There is a foot-note in Oliver’s book, on the authority of Richard Prior, of Hagulstad, saying that “the hundreth contained eight pounds; so that the last penalty was most immense, nearly as much as the weregild for killing a crowned head in Wales; and, indeed, every act of violence committed against the right of sanctuary was esteemed a breach of the churches’ peace, a high crime, and a species of sacrilege.”

The particulars of the persons who took sanctuary from about the year 1478 to 1539, published by the Surtees Society, is drawn from a thin folio volume, preserved among the Harleian MSS. This important manuscript contains a copy of the oath taken by those who sought sanctuary at Beverley. The Bailiff of the Archbishop, by whom the oath was administered, had to enquire of the refugee:—

“What man he killed, and wher with, and both ther names, and than gar him lay his hand uppon the book, saying on this wyse—

Sir, take hede on your oth—Ye shalbe trew and feythfull to my Lord Archbisshop of York, Lord off this towne, to the Provest of the same, to the Chanons of this Chirch, and all other ministers therof.

Also, ye shall bere gude hert to the Baillie and xij governars of this town, to all burges and comyners of the same.

Also, ye shall bere no poynted wepon, dagger, knyfe, ne non other wapen ayenst the Kynge’s pece.

Also, ye shalbe redy at all your power, if ther be any debate or stryf, or order so than case of fyre within the towne, to help to surcess it.

Also, ye shalbe redy at the obite of Kyng Adelstan, at the dirige and the messe, at suche tyme as it is done, at the warnyng of the belman of the towne, and doe your dewte in ryngyng, and for to offer at the messe on the morne. So help you God and thies holy Evangelistes. And than gar hym kysse the book.”

The Bailiff’s fee on this occasion appears to have been two shillings and fourpence, that of the Clerk of the Court, for inscribing the name of the refugee in the register, fourpence.

As we have previously stated, the Beverley register, published by the Surtees Society, commences about the year 1478, and extends to 1539. A summary of the crimes and the trades, etc., of refugees is as follows:—

Crimes.—Indefinite, 35. Persons concerned, 35. No trade described, 10; Labourers, 3; Tylers, 2; Tailors, 2; Masons, 2; Dyers, 2; Yeomen, 2; Merchant, 1; Husbandman, 1; Smith, 1; Clerk, 1; Butcher, 1; Chapman, 1; Gentleman, 1; Draper, 1; Skinner, 1; Shoemaker, 1; Haberdasher, 1; Litster, 1. Murder and Homicide.—Crimes, 173. Persons implicated, 186. No trade or occupation described, 52; Tailors, 19; Husbandmen, 17; Yeomen, 16; Labourers, 14; Weavers and Websters, 11; Shoemakers, 8; Butchers, 6; Gentlemen, 6; Mercers, 3; Barbers, 3; Brewers, 3; Servants, 2; Esquires, 2; Surgeons, 2; Millers, 2; Mariners, 2; Smith, 1; Shearman, 1; Spinster, 1; Carpenter, 1; Painter, 1; Chapman, 1; Maltster, 1; Cartwright, 1; Gentlewoman, 1; Chandler, 1; Minstrell, 1; Cooper, 1; Literate, 1; Saddler, 1; Shepherd, 1; Carrier, 1; Tanner, 1; Cook, 1; Hatmaker, 1. Felony.—Crimes, 51. Persons implicated, 54. No trade described, 3; Labourers, 8; Tailors, 6; Husbandmen, 4; Butchers, 4; Glovers, 3; Goldsmiths, 3; Cutlers, 3; Tylers, 2; Plumbers, 2; Yeomen, 2; Merchant, 1; Smith, 1; Clerk, 1; Physician, 1; Spinster, 1; Grocer, 1; Gentleman, 1; Pinner, 1; Mariner, 1; Shoemaker, 1; Fishmonger, 1; Fuller, 1; Brickmaker, 1. Horse stealing, 1, a Labourer. Treason, 1, a Butcher. Receipt of stolen goods, 1, a Haberdasher. Coining.—Cases, 6; persons, 7. No trade described, 1; Yeomen, 2; Fleshers, 2; Tailor, 1; Weaver, 1. Debtors, 208. No trade described, 36; Butchers, 31; Labourers, 12; Merchants, 9; Husbandmen, 9; Gentlemen, 9; Mercers, 8; Tailors, 6; Weavers and Websters, 5; Dyers, 5; Yeomen, 5; Glovers, 4; Drapers, 4; Shearmen, 3; Chapmen, 3; Pewterers, 3; Smiths, 2; Grocers, 2; Fishers, 2; Bakers, 2; Chandlers, 2; Wheelwrights, 2; Coopers, 2; Pouchmakers, 2; Vintners, 2; Fishmongers, 2; Bowyers, 2; Tapper, 1; Alderman and Grocer of London, 1; Carpenter, 1; Wax Chandler, 1; Painter, 1; Goldsmith, 1; Clothier, 1; Waiter, 1; Maltster, 1; Surgeon, 1; Pinner, 1; Skinner, 1; Fustain Shearer, 1; Capper, 1; Mason, 1; Haberdasher, 1; Salter, 1; Carrier, 1; Tanner, 1; Woolman, 1; Purser, 1; Singingman, 1; Woodmonger, 1; Cook, 1; Wooldriver, 1; Hatmaker, 1; Bedmaker, 1; Barber, 1.

The weapons employed in cases of murder are seldom named in the Beverley records.

The right of sanctuary was, perhaps, a blessing in the time it existed. Hallam, in his “State of Europe in the Middle Ages,” says that right of sanctuary might as often be a shield of innocence as an impunity of crime. “We can hardly regret, on reflecting on the desolating violence which prevailed, that there should have been some green spots in the wilderness, where the feeble and the persecuted could find refuge. How must this right have enhanced the veneration for religious institutions! How gladly must the victims of internal warfare have turned their eyes from baronial castle, the dread and scourge of the neighbourhood, to those venerable walls, within which not even the clamour of arms could be heard to disturb the chaunt of holy men and the sacred service of the altar.”

The Romance of Trial.

n past ages, trial by ordeal was customary in this country, and at the present time in several foreign lands, where education has not swept away superstitious beliefs, it is often used as a means of testing the guilt or innocence of accused persons. The origin of ordeal may be traced back to a remote period. In the Anglo-Saxon judicial systems it formed an important feature, and the first record of it in this country appears in the laws of King Ina, who reigned over Wessex from the year 688 to 727. The clergy figured prominently in the trials.

For three days prior to the time appointed for the trial, the accused passed through a course of severe discipline and austere diet. He declared on oath that he was innocent of the crime laid to his charge. Twenty-four of his friends and foes were brought together, and after a religious service, specially prepared for the occasion, had been performed, the ordeal was then tried. The ordeals were of various kinds, the nobles and other great personages being generally tried with the boiling water ordeal.

A ring or piece of metal, blessed by the priest, was cast into the boiling water, and on either side of the vessel were ranged the twelve friends and the twelve foes to witness the due execution of justice. The arm of the accused was bared, he plunged it into the liquid and brought out the article deposited in it by the priest. The degree of the crime regulated the depth of the water; if slight, it only reached to the wrist, but if serious, the arm was dipped up to the elbow, or even higher. The priest quickly bound up the arm, and the bandages were not removed for three days. At the end of that time, if the priest pronounced the arm healed, the sufferer was regarded as guiltless; if not, it was believed that God had interposed and convicted him.

Deputies sometimes performed the ordeals. A notable instance of employing a substitute is that of Theatberge, wife of Lothaire, of France. She confessed to having been guilty of incest, but subsequently recanting, it was decided to try her by the ordeal, and a ring was thrown into boiling water according to custom. The Queen elected a proxy, and it is recorded of him whom she chose that he “produced the ring without injuring his hand, in spite of the fire under the caldron being so intense that the water boiled over.”

It is asserted that the familiar saying of going “through fire and water” for any one is derived from the practice of employing deputies in the performance of ordeals.

In Mr. James Forbes’ “Oriental Memoirs,” published 1813-15, are some details of boiling oil ordeals. One of the cases relates to the coolies of a village in the northern part of Guzerat, who were charged with seizing and imprisoning a Bohra, and extorting a bond from him for 450 rupees. The chief denied the charge, and offered to prove his innocence by trial by ordeal. We are told that “a large copper pot full of oil was put on a fire in the market-place, and a pair of blacksmith’s bellows applied to blow the fire until the oil became very hot.” A rupee was thrown into the boiling oil. The chief next declared his innocence, said his prayers, plunged his hand into the boiling liquid, and brought out the coin. He next exhibited his hand to the spectators, when no traces of scalding could be detected; indeed it appeared as if it had been dipped in cold oil. Himself and his tribe were pronounced not guilty of the charge, and he was dismissed with the gift of a turban.

The cold water ordeal appears to have been usually employed to try the humbler classes. The accused went through fasting and discipline similar to the trial by boiling water. After attending church, the person on trial was conducted to a deep pool, and then bound hand and foot with cords. The priest next adjured the water to receive the accused into its bosom if innocent, but to reject him if he were guilty. He was cast into the water. If he sank he was deemed innocent, and was at once drawn out by a rope which had previously been tied round his waist. We gather from Hallam’s “Middle Ages” that a citizen of London, having failed in the ordeal of cold water, was hanged by the order of Henry II. The man tried to save his life by offering 500 marks. In cases of murder, if the accused even went through the ordeal of water, he was banished from the realm.

Some attention is paid to this ordeal by Dr. Charles Mackay, in his “Popular Delusions.” “It was,” he says, “a trial of the poor and humble, and whether they sank or swam was thought of very little consequence. Like witches of more modern times, the accused were thrown into a pond or river. If they sank they were drowned, their friends had the consolation that they were innocent; if they swam they were guilty. In either case society was rid of them.” We believe there is little foundation in fact for the foregoing statement by Dr. Mackay. After careful investigation we have not found a record of persons being drowned. The rope fastened to the body of the accused would prevent any such accident.

Towards the close of the twelfth century the use of this ordeal was very general. Lea, in his “Superstition and Force,” says that “The assizes of Clarendon, in 1166, confirmed at Northampton in 1176, direct an inquest to be held in each shire, and all who are indicted for murder, robbery, harbouring of malefactors, are to be at once, without further trial, passed through the water ordeal to determine their guilt or innocence.” Mr. Lea thinks that the basis of this ordeal may be traced back to the primitive Aryans, who believed that the pure element would not receive into its bosom a person stained with the crime of a false oath.

Many strange stories are related respecting the ordeal of red-hot iron; and not a few of a tragical character. There were two ways of performing the red-hot iron ordeal. One was by taking up a piece of red-hot iron, weighing from one to three pounds, or walking barefoot and blindfolded over nine red-hot ploughshares placed lengthwise at irregular distances. If the accused passed through this ordeal without being hurt he was deemed innocent. There is a popular story that Emma, the mother of Edward the Confessor, was charged with undue familiarity with Alwyn, Bishop of Winchester. She proved her innocence by passing unharmed over heated ploughshares.

Among the many instances of persons tried by this ordeal of hot iron may be mentioned Remigius, the Bishop of Dorchester, who was accused of treason against William the Conqueror. One of the bishop’s followers underwent the ordeal, and cleared his lordship of the charge.

It has been suggested by some authorities on this subject that the apparently hot iron was really cold and painted red. In some instances the hands and feet were perhaps rubbed with certain compositions which would enable the persons going through the ordeal to touch the iron without doing injury to themselves. We know that in our own time, to shew the power of resisting fire is not by any means a difficult feat, and it often forms an item on the programmes of popular entertainments.

Shakspeare and other writers refer to the ancient superstition that the wounds of a murdered person would bleed again if touched by the murderer. In Richard III., the dramatist writes as follows respecting Richard, Duke of Gloster:—

“O gentlemen, see, see! dear Henry’s wounds
Open their congeal’d mouths and bleed afresh!
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity;
For ’tis thy presence that exhales this blood
From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells;
Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural,
Provokes this deluge most unnatural.”

Stow, in his “Annals,” records that the king’s body “was brought to St. Paul’s in an open coffin, barefaced, where he bled; thence he was carried to Blackfriars, and there bled.”

King James, in his “Dæmonologie,” thus refers to this superstition: “In a secret murder,” says the King, “if the dead carkasse be at any time thereafter handled by the murderer, it will gush out of blood, as if the blood were crying out to heaven for the revenge of the murderer.” Dryden adverts to the theme:—

“If the vile actors of the heinous deed
Near the dead body happily be brought,
Oft hath been proved the breathless corpse will bleed.”

This ordeal in bygone times was frequently tried, and it was the means of bringing not a few murderers to justice. In some instances the details of the crimes and their detection read more like romance than a statement of facts.

In the olden days witnessing an execution was a sight not to be missed by old or young folk; even children wended their way to the fatal tree. Sir Symonds D’Ewes, the antiquary, in his boyhood days, attended the execution of a man named Babb, and subsequently wrote an account of the painful circumstances connected with the case. We gather from his notes that Babb had formerly lived near to Wambrook, on the southern border of Somerset. He had sought in vain for the hand in marriage of a widow living near Taunton. She, however, declined his proposal. Babb, although greatly disappointed at his failure, resolved to make one more attempt to win the woman. He hid himself in a brewhouse used by the widow, and when she appeared he once more pressed his suit. She heard him with disdain, and almost before he had finished his speech she said, “Have thee, base rascal? No!” She then struck him on the head with a pewter candlestick. This made his blood boil, and he inflicted upon her sixteen wounds, causing her death. Afterwards, he put the knife in her hand, making it appear as if she had committed suicide, and then quietly stole away from the place.

The unfortunate widow was buried, but tongues and brains were not set at rest, for it was the opinion of not a few that she had met her death at the hands of a murderer. Amongst the active in this matter was a leading local magistrate, named Mr. Ware, Hestercombe House, near Taunton. Like other people of this period, he believed in the ordeal by touch. “This active magistrate,” we find stated, “caused the body to be disinterred, that all the inhabitants living within a circle of three miles might assemble to touch the body, and go through this powerful ordeal. Babb ran away to escape this dreadful mode of testing the inhabitants’ innocence. His racking conscience gave him no repose; he returned and yielded himself up to justice.” At the next county assizes for Somerset, held at Chard, in the year 1613, he was tried, found guilty, and condemned to death. Shortly afterwards he was hanged near Wambrook.

Charles I. presented to Dr. Wren, the father of the famous Sir Christopher Wren, the rectory of Great Haseley, near Oxford. During his incumbency, occurred a sad event, which made a great impression on his mind. He detailed, in Latin, particulars of the matter, and duly attested the truth by signing it. Lucy Phillimore, the author of an ably-written work on “Sir Christopher Wren: his Family and his Times,” supplies an English version of the tragedy. “Among the retainers of Lord Norris,” we are told, “was an old man who had charge of the fish ponds; he had one nephew, who was the heir of all his uncle’s possessions and savings. The nephew enticed the old man out one night, waited till he fell asleep under an oak tree, murdered him by a blow on the head, dragged the body to one of the ponds, tied a great stone to the neck, and threw the corpse in. There it lay five weeks, during which time Lord Norris and all the neighbours wondered what had become of the old man. At length, attracted to the spot by the swarms of flies, the body was found by the men who were about to clean the pond. They raised the corpse with great difficulty, and recognised it. The stone tied to the neck was evidence of foul play, though no one could guess the murderer. Lord Norris, in order to detect the criminal, after the usual manner, commanded that the corpse, preserved by the water from the last extremity of decay, should, on the next Sunday, be exposed in the churchyard, close to the church door, so that every one entering the church should see and touch it. The wicked nephew shrank from the ordeal, feigning to be so overwhelmed with grief as to be unable to bear the sight of his dearest uncle. Lord Norris, suspecting that the old man had been murdered by the one person whom his death would profit, compelled him to come, and to touch with his finger, as so many had willingly done, the hand of the dead. At his touch, however, ‘as if opened by the finger of God, the eyes of the corpse were seen by all to move, and blood to flow from his nostrils.’ At this awful witness, the murderer fell on the ground and avowed the crime, which he had secretly committed, and the most just judgment of God had brought to light.” The murderer was tried before one of His Majesty’s judges, and the circumstances of the crime fully stated. He was condemned to death, and the sentence was duly carried out by the hangman.

Another strange story comes down to us from the days when the first Charles was king. It relates to Herefordshire. Johan Norkeff was found dead, and it was believed that she had laid violent hands upon herself. After she had been buried about a month, circumstances caused it to be suspected that she had met her death by foul play. The case came under the consideration of a coroner and jury, and they finally resolved to have the body exhumed, and cause the four suspected persons to touch it. The result of the ordeal was narrated at the assizes by an old minister as follows: “The body being taken out of the grave and laid on the grass, the accused were required to touch it. On laying on their hands on the brow, which before was of a livid and carrion colour, it began to have a dew or gentle sweat upon it, which increased by degrees until the sweat ran down the face. The brow then turned to a lifelike and flesh colour, and the dead woman opened one of her eyes and shut it again, and this opening of the eye was done three times. She likewise thrust out the ring or marriage finger three times, and the finger dropped blood on the grass.” The old minister swore to the correctness of the foregoing, and, says James Grant, in “The Mysteries of all Nations,” from whom we draw the evidence, another clergyman corroborated it. Sir Nicholas Hyde, the eminent lawyer, who rose to be Lord Chief Justice, questioned the correctness of the evidence, but the members of the jury did not agree with him, finding three of the prisoners guilty of murder. Two were executed, and the third, a woman, was reprieved.

On much weaker evidence to the preceding cases, Philip Stanfield was condemned, in 1688, for the murder of his father, Sir James Stanfield. An account of the matter will be found in Chambers’s “Domestic Annals of Scotland,” vol. 2, pages 491-92. The case may be briefly stated as follows: The body of Sir James Stanfield, of New Mills, was found in a stream near Haddington. It appeared that he had met his dead by strangling. James Muirhead, a surgeon, and another person swore that when Philip Stanfield was helping to place the body of his father in a coffin, blood started from the left side of his neck upon his touch, and that he exclaimed, “Lord have mercy upon me!” On this slight evidence he was, 7th February, 1688, pronounced guilty of parricide, and was publicly executed on the 24th of the same month, and his body hung in chains. He protested his innocence to the last. “The whole case,” says Dr. Robert Chambers, “seems to be a lively illustration of the effect of superstitious feeling in blinding justice.”

On the 14th June, 1641, a commission which sat at Dalkeith, pronounced Christina Wilson guilty of the death, by sorcery, of her brother, Alexander Wilson. She had been, prior to the trial, directed by the minister and others to touch the corpse of her brother. After an earnest prayer, in which she fervently prayed to God, who had made the sun to shine on their home, to bring the murderer to justice, she touched the body. It bled, although it had not done so when touched by others. This was deemed sufficient proof of her guilt, and on this evidence she suffered death.

With directing the attention to the survival of touching the dead, we must draw to a close our study of the romance of trial. In the north of England, and other parts of the country, it is the practice of persons who come to see a corpse to touch it, as a token “that they wished no ill to the departed, and were at peace and amity with them.”

A Fight between the Mayor of Hull and the Archbishop of York.

he prelates of the past enjoyed not a few peculiar privileges which are not inherited by their successors in modern times. In the mediæval era, the dignitaries of the church led comparatively exciting lives, and were by no means strangers to the use of sword and lance, many gaining fame on the field of battle.

Representatives of the church often possessed rights in respect to the gallows and its victims. A few facts about a case occurring far back, in the days of our first Edward, shew how keenly they maintained their privileges. The Abbot of Peterborough set up a gallows at Collingham, Nottinghamshire, and had hanged thereon a thief. This proceeding came under the notice of the Bishop of Lincoln, and he, with considerable warmth and temper, declared that the Abbot had usurped his rights, since he held from the king’s predecessors the liberty of the Wapentake of Collingham, and the right of executing criminals. The Abbot declared that Henry III. had given to him and his successors “Infangthef and Utfangthef in all his hundreds and demesnes.” After investigation it was decided that the Abbot was in the wrong, and he was directed to take down the gallows he had erected. One, and perhaps the chief, reason of the prelate being so particular to retain his privileges was on account of it entitling him to the chattels of the condemned criminals.

William the Conqueror invested the Abbot of Battle Abbey with authority to save the life of any malefactor he might find being executed, and whose life he wished to spare.

Amongst the many privileges enjoyed by the Archbishop of York, was that of having a mint. As early as the year 1070, we find a mention of the mint, and particulars of attempts made, without success, to destroy or curtail His Grace’s coining. Archbishop Lee, who died in 1544, is said to have been the last to exercise the power of issuing money.

In bygone times, the Archbishops of York appear to have enjoyed almost regal power. The baronies of Beverley, Sherburn, Patrington, Otley, and Wilton belonged to them. They appointed justices for these important towns, had prisons, gallows, pillories, and ducking-stools, and did their utmost to maintain law and order.

It will be gathered from the foregoing that prelates were granted privileges which enabled them to exercise much power amongst the people. Some of the rights enjoyed at Hull by the Archbishop of York were oppressive to the inhabitants of the town, and gave rise to much strife. It was the practice, exercised according to ancient custom, of the Archbishop of York to claim prisage from every vessel of twenty tons burden entering the river Hull. Two casks of wine were demanded, one from before and the other from behind the mast. The casks, however, might be redeemed by paying twenty shillings for each cask. The merchants successfully evaded payment of duty by unloading their ships in the Humber, and bringing their goods into port in small craft. As may be readily expected, the Archbishop was much annoyed at the conduct of the men of Hull, who received the support of the Mayor of the town; indeed, if we read history aright, we find the local authorities had a desire to enjoy the privileges claimed by the prelate. A great difficulty had been experienced for a long time by the officers of the Archbishop in collecting the dues, and Archbishop Neville saw that unless he made a firm stand to maintain his privileges, they would be lost. In the year 1378, he decided to visit Hull, and enforce his rights. The Mayor of Hull, at that time was Sir Thomas de Waltham, a knight of quick temper, and with no particular respect for persons with whom he came in contact.

The Archbishop, with a few attendants, numbering less than a dozen, came to the town. The Mayor, accompanied by two bailiffs, named John Arnold and Thomas Green, and a large company of local supporters, met His Grace. The Archbishop complained bitterly to the Mayor, saying, amongst other serious faults, that he had shown himself wanting in that respect for the Archbishop which the representative of religion was entitled to receive. His Worship soon waxed warm, declaring that he had only done his duty in maintaining the rights of his fellow-townsmen. The prelate insisted that the Mayor was in the wrong, and that it was his intention to enforce the payment of his dues. The Mayor soon shewed signs of his displeasure, and seeing one His Grace’s men mocking him, he, without ceremony, snatched from the Archbishop his crosier, and struck the man. This was the commencement of a free fight, in which the prelate and his people suffered a severe defeat. Blood freely flowed, and the Archbishop, seeing that he could not make, with any degree of success, a stand against so many opponents, beat a hasty retreat, followed a considerable distance out of the town by a large number of excited inhabitants of Hull, eager to avenge the wrongs it was believed His Grace had done to the port by collecting, or attempting to collect, prisage. The Mayor, it must be recorded, fought manfully with the crosier, which was broken into several pieces.

The Archbishop, being a Court favourite, brought the matter under the notice of the King. The Mayor was summoned to appear before His Majesty at Westminster. This proceeding doubtless caused much trouble in Hull, but the Mayor, feeling that he had right on his side, proceeded to London with a brave heart, and at the trial pleaded his cause with considerable eloquence. The case resulted in judgment being left in abeyance, or, in other words, His Grace was non-suited.

We can readily imagine that the Mayor would return home in higher spirits than when he left it to appear in the King’s Court, and that he would receive a hearty welcome from his fellow townsmen.

The place where the fight occurred was regarded by the superstitious as sacred, crowds of fanatics repairing to it to shed tears. Not a little inconvenience was caused by their conduct, and their proceedings were stopped by a permanent guard being appointed to keep folk away from the place.

After the death of the Archbishop, it was believed for many years that his spirit haunted the spot where the battle was fought.

In spite of the serious breach between Prelate and Mayor, Hull appears to have been a favourite residence in past times of the Archbishops of York. We know, from the annals of the town, that in the year 1442 the Archbishop had a house in the historic High Street.

Dr. Thomson, the late Archbishop of York, was a frequent and welcome visitor to the town. The last time he was in Hull, His Grace was the guest of Alderman Sherburn, the Mayor. When we saw the two gentlemen in friendly conversation, we could not help contrasting the conditions of 1889 with those of 1378, and noting the great changes which five centuries have brought about, changes better alike for gentle and simple.

Chapels on Bridges.

he building of bridges in bygone times was regarded as a religious duty. An order of friars was established on the continent, in the twelfth century, having for its object the erecting and repairing of bridges. Its work extended into several countries. In France, the friars built the celebrated bridge over the Rhone at Avignon, and a bridge, still in use, at Pont St. Esprit, was one of their works. We have not any traces of the operations of the order in England, but there were in the country, prior to the reign of Richard II., lay-brotherhoods performing a similar good work.

Queen Matilda erected and endowed bridges at Stratford and Bow, which she regarded as meritorious. The Church looked upon the work as one deserving of encouragement. Richard de Kellawe, Bishop of Durham, from 1311 to 1316, for example, promised to remit penances for those engaged in bridge-building. The Registry of his Episcopal Chancery contains many entries similar to the following: “Memorandum ... his lordship grants forty days’ indulgence to all who will draw from the treasure that God has given them, valuable and charitable aid towards the building and repair of Botyton bridge.” We read in another entry: “Forty days’ indulgence is allowed to those sincerely contrite and confessed of all their sins, who shall help by their charitable gifts, or by their bodily labour, the building and maintenance of the causeway between Brotherton and Ferrybridge, where many people pass by.” On another occasion, a similar indulgence was granted for help towards the highroad and bridge between Billingham and Norton.

The most striking case which has come under our notice, where pious motives have caused the erection of a bridge, is set forth in a contract of the thirteenth century. The particulars are given in Jusserand’s “English Wayfaring Life in the Middle Ages.” “Reginald de Rosels,” we are told, “allowed Peter, Abbot of Whitby, to build a permanent bridge on the river Esk, between his own and the convent’s lands. He pledges himself in that act to permit to all comers free access to the bridge through his own property. ‘For which concession the aforesaid Abbot and convent have absolved in chapter all the ancestors of the same Reginald of all fault and transgression they may have committed against the church of Whiteby, and have made them participant of all the good works, alms, and prayers of the church of Whiteby.’” The original contract is in Latin, and was printed by the Surtees Society (1881).

“It was very usual,” says Leland, “in greater brydges to build chappells in which they did pray for the soules of their founders.” There were other reasons for erecting chapels, one being for a place of residence for priests to solicit alms from all who passed over the bridge, whether walking or riding, to keep it in repair. Some were built for sheltering benighted travellers, having crypts where rest and refreshment might be obtained. In these chapels, the wayfarer could pray for protection on his journey, and return thanks for safety after his undertaking had been completed. Travelling, in mediæval times, was beset with trial and hardship on every side.

OLD LONDON BRIDGE.

The history and romance of London Bridge must ever remain amongst the subjects most popular to the people of England. The first and famous London Bridge was regarded as one of the glories of the Middle Ages. The bridge was commenced by Peter Colechurch, in 1176. He worked for twenty-nine years, then death ended his earthly career, and “he was sepultured” in the chapel on the bridge he had done so much to erect. A clever Frenchman, called Isembert, completed the work, in the year 1209. The undertaking had the hearty support of the people, and large sums of money and extensive endowments of land were given to carry it on. The excitement throughout the land was immense. The nation felt it was one of its great undertakings. It was in length nine hundred and twenty-six feet, in width forty feet, some sixty feet above the water, and stood upon nineteen pointed arches, between massive piers. When first completed, it had only one building upon it, a handsome stone chapel, dedicated to St. Thomas Becket, which stood on the middle pier. Subsequently, two rows of houses were erected on the bridge, one on each side of the road. A drawbridge was put up as a means of protection. A terrible fire, on July 10th, 1212, was the cause of the death of upwards of 3,000 persons. Stow, in his “Survey of London,” supplies some important information on this subject. After adverting to a fire commencing on the Southwark side of the bridge, he states that “an exceeding great multitude of people passing the bridge, either to extinguish and quench it, or else to gaze at and behold it, suddenly the north part, by blowing of the south wind, was also set on fire, and the people, which were even now passing the bridge, perceiving the same, would have returned, but were stopped by fire; and it came to pass, that as they stayed or protracted time, the other end of the bridge also, namely, the south end, was fired, so that the people, thronging themselves between the two fires, did nothing else but expect present death; then came there to aid them many ships and vessels, into the which the multitude so unadvisedly rushed that, the ships being drowned, they all perished. It was said, that through the fire and shipwreck, there were destroyed about three thousand persons, whose bodies were found in part, besides those that were wholly burnt to ashes, and could not be found.” A frost, in 1282, destroyed five arches of the bridge. In 1305, when Edward I. was king, was commenced the practice of placing the heads of traitors over London Bridge gateway. Paul Hentzner, a German traveller, visited England in 1598, and counted on it no fewer than thirty heads. Several houses on the bridge were destroyed by fires at various times, and all were swept away by the Great Fire, of 1666. A good idea of these buildings may be obtained from the picture we give on page 47.

On the west side of the Ouse Bridge, at York, was St. William’s Chapel, an interesting example of early English architecture. Respecting the origin of this chapel, there is a popular story that it was built shortly after the bridge was completed, in 1268, in obedience to royal commands. The tale is to the effect that a Scotch nobleman was visiting the city, shortly after the erection of the bridge, when some of the citizens quarrelled and came to blows with his servants on the bridge. Several of the strangers were slain. The riot was brought under the notice of the kings of England and Scotland for settlement, and it was finally agreed that the citizens of York should pay £300, a large amount in those days, and erect a chapel on or near the spot where the servants met their untimely deaths, and also that they maintain two priests to pray for the souls of the slain men. After the Reformation, the chapel was converted into an Exchange for the Society of Hamburg Merchants at York, and subsequently put to other secular uses. Finally it was taken down, on the erection of a new bridge, in the year 1810.

Under the year 1505, a note appears in Hollinworth’s “Mancuniensis,” stating that “Care was taken for the reparation of the chappell standing on Salford Bridge, built, as it is sayd, by Thomas del Booth, in Edward III.’s time. He certainly gave £30 towards the building of Salford Bridge; and it was very usual on greater bridges to build chappells, in which they did pray for the soules of their founders. This chappell is now converted to a prison for Manchester and Salford.” The building was pulled down in 1778, for the purpose of making the bridge wider.

BRADFORD BRIDGE.

We have other instances of bridge prisons besides the one at Salford. A familiar example is that at Bedford. It has been asserted by several authors that Bunyan was imprisoned in it, but it has been proved beyond doubt that such was not the fact. The bridge prison belonged absolutely to the borough, and Bunyan was a county prisoner, and spent his time in the county gaol. Much interesting information bearing on this subject will be found in Dr. Brown’s book on Bunyan. The records of the town contain some curious particulars respecting the bridge. The following may be given as an example: “Item, yt ye ordered that the great cheyne by every nighte at ten of the clocke to be locked crosse the great bridge, and so kept untyl fyve of the clocke in the morninge, and that he or they that shall dwell in the bridge house, to keep the keye of the said locke, and keep the same soe locked, and not suffer aine horse, horseman, or cattell to passe within that tyme wch he shall not knowe. And of them wch he shall knowe, to take a pennie only for letting doune the cheyne and noe more.” The prison was taken down in the year 1765. Here was a chapel or oratory, dedicated to St. Thomas the Martyr, built by a Bedford man, early in the fourteenth century, and endowed with lands for the support of a warden or chaplain, who had to repair the bridge at his own expense.

A small structure on the old bridge at Bradford-on-Avon has also been used as a prison. Its original purpose has provoked some discussion. Some say that it was erected for a chapel, but not a few question the statement. Aubrey of old, and the Rev. J. Charles Cox, LL.D., and Precentor Venables of our time, are of opinion that it was a chapel. For many years it was used as a lock-up, and later as a powder magazine. It has a dome-like roof, of later date than the building. It bears a model of a gudgeon, the emblem of St. Nicholas. The Bradford-on-Avon folk are familiarly spoken of as Bradford gudgeons. Those who had been imprisoned on the bridge were said to have been “under fish and over water.”

ST. MARY’S BRIDGE-CHAPEL, DERBY.

A small bridge-chapel at Derby, dedicated to St. Mary of the Brigg, links the past with the present. It most probably dates back to the fourteenth century. Rev. J. Charles Cox, LL.D., in his “Churches of Derbyshire,” traces with care the history of this old-time building. He says: “St. Mary’s Bridge—by which access was gained from Nottingham and the south into the town of Derby, through whose streets lay one of the most important thoroughfares from London to the north—must, in mediæval days, have been of considerable importance. It is pleasant to think of the busy burgesses or men-at-arms turning aside into the Chapel of Our Lady for a brief silent prayer, before crossing the Derwent, and plunging into the forests that stretched out before them on the other side of the river.” There would, doubtless, be a gatehouse, built for defence and for levying tolls, etc. On the chapel or gatehouse were placed the heads and quarters of the priests who were martyred at Derby, on July 25th, 1588, when the Jesuits were making determined efforts to win England back to Rome. “Two resolute Catholic gentlemen” stole and buried the remains. Here have worshipped the persecuted Presbyterians of Derby. About a century ago it was turned into dwelling-houses, and later was used as a carpenter’s shop. In 1873, a Bishop’s license was obtained, and once more it was used as a house of prayer. We give, by the courtesy of Mr. Richard Keene, a view of the chapel, from an interesting book published by him, in 1881, under the title of “All about Derby,” by Edward Bradbury and Richard Keene. The picture is from the pencil of the late Llewellynn Jewitt, F.S.A., the eminent antiquary.

Prior to the Reformation, the Chamberlains of Derby rendered annually to the monks of the Priory of St. James two pounds of wax, for the privilege of passing over St. James’ Bridge.

OUR LADY’S CHAPEL, ROTHERHAM BRIDGE.

On the old bridge at Rotherham, which spans the river Don, is still standing the chapel of “Our Lady.”

“The sacred taper’s light is gone.”

It is an interesting monument of bygone times, but it is no longer used as a house of prayer. Where once the mass was celebrated by devout priests, a trader keeps a small shop. The earliest mention of this chapel which is known, occurs in the will of John Bokying, master of the Grammar School at Rotherham, and is dated August 24th, 1483. He leaves “To the fabric of the chapel to be built on Rotherham bridge, 3s. 4d.” The design of the building was plain, but, on the whole, its effect must be pronounced pleasing. The dimensions of the building in the interior are thirty-two feet nine inches in length, by fifteen feet five inches in width. Leland, the antiquary, visited the town in the middle of the sixteenth century, and says, “I enterid into Rotheram by a fair stone bridge of iiij arches, and on hit is a chapel of stone, wel wrought.” In old records relating to Rotherham, reproduced by John Guest, F.S.A., in his “Historic Notices of Rotherham,” may be read many items of local interest on this chapel. We find statements respecting the bridge and chapel occupying the attention of the Justices of Peace at Pontefract Sessions and Doncaster Sessions, towards the close of the seventeenth century. The Feoffees of Rotherham successfully maintained that the bridge and chapel belonged to them, but that they had to be kept in repair at the expense of the West Riding. It, at this period, was used as an almshouse for poor people. In the Feoffees records it is stated as follows:

“1778. June 6th. Ordered that the greaves do employ a proper person to examine ye state of ye almshouse, and to report what expence will be necessary to make the same into a dwelling-house for ye deputy-constable, and secure gaols for the receiption of prisoners.”

“1779. February 5th. That the greaves do immediately agree with Mr. Platts for altering the almshouse to a prison, and, according to a plan now in their hands, so that the expense of the alterations do not exceed thirty-six pounds.”

“1779. June 16th. Ordered that John Watson be permitted to inhabit that part of the almshouse designed for the deputy-constable. That the rent of the same shall be five pounds. Only to use the two first rooms and the pantry on the ground floor, and the two chambers over the same. The other parts of the house being designed for other purposes. And that he shall not take out a license to sell ale or spirituous liquors.”

In 1825-6, a new court house was built, and then the bridge-chapel was no longer required as a prison. As we have previously stated, the ancient building is now devoted to business purposes. Let us hope the day is not far distant when it may once more be used as a house of prayer.

NORTH-WEST VIEW OF WAKEFIELD CHAPEL, PREVIOUS TO RE-BUILDING.

Perhaps the most interesting of chapels on bridges, is the one at Wakefield, dedicated to St. Mary. Its history has been carefully compiled by Norrisson Scatcherd, in 1843, by John W. Walker, F.S.A., in 1890, and it has received the consideration of other antiquaries. It has long been a popular, but mistaken belief, that the chapel was built by Edward IV. that masses might be said for those slain in the battle of Wakefield, in 1460, and in which his father, the Duke of York, and his brother, the Duke of Rutland were slain. It will be remembered, that in this engagement, the Lancastrians defeated the Yorkists. It is clear, from Mr. Walkers work, that the beautiful chapel was built by the townsmen of Wakefield, and there is not any trace of the King adding anything to the revenues of the chapel. When the first bridge was built over the Calder, is not known, but, in 1342, King Edward III. granted to the bailiffs of the town the right of tollage for three years, on all goods for sale and cattle passing over the bridge, “as a help towards repairing and improving the bridge,” which is stated to be “rent and broken.” In the documents, there is not any mention of a chapel, a bridge only is referred to. Mr. Walker is of opinion that about this time the suggestion was first made for the erection of a chapel in honour of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and that it was soon carried into effect. Three townsmen and two priests obtained the first license, in 1356-7. In a decree, bearing date of November 20th, 1444, it says the chapel is “Wholly built of costly stonework by the inhabitants and community of Wakefield.” It has been suggested that, for a time, the black death, which caused such terrible desolation in the country, in 1349-50, may, for a period, have stopped the building of the chapel. It was a noble structure when completed, the carving being especially fine. On the west front, were carvings representing the five glorious mysteries of the Rosary. We give a picture of the central figures, illustrating the Resurrection. It will be seen that Christ is rising from the tomb, and on either side of him are two angels engaged in prayer. In front of the tomb are three soldiers, placed there as guards, and they are clad in complete armour of the time of Edward III. An important feature of the Wakefield bridge-chapel is the crypt. “This,” says Scatcherd, “has undoubtedly been the dwelling of the priests—where they might have lodged strangers, or administered relief.” There was a high turret, reached by a little spiral staircase. On this elevated part of the building was kindled the cresset-light, which would guide the wayfarer, and possibly assist the navigator on the river Calder, when day had given way to night.

SCULPTURE IN THE CENTRAL COMPARTMENT OF THE WEST FRONT.

NORTH-EAST VIEW OF WAKEFIELD BRIDGE-CHAPEL, 1810.

The chapel was for many years used for secular purposes, but, happily, opened for public worship on Easter Sunday, April 22nd, 1848. It had been previously rebuilt by Mr. G. G. Scott, and the west front is still to be seen at Kettlethorpe Hall, and forms the front of a boathouse. The rebuilding, instead of restoring, was a serious mistake. The Bath and Caen stone used does not resist the wasting action of the impurities in the air. “It was in an evil hour,” says Scott, “that I yielded, and allowed a new front in Caen stone, in place of the weather-beaten old one.... I never repented it but once, that has been ever since.... I think of this with the utmost shame and chagrin.” We state, on the authority of Mr. Walker, that, “Sir Gilbert Scott, some years before his death, was so anxious to have the old front replaced in its original position, that he offered to contribute freely towards this object, if he could persuade the Yorkshire people to help him, but nothing further was done.”

Charter Horns.

n the Cathedrals of York and Carlisle are preserved interesting charter horns. The horn, in bygone times, often played an important part when land was granted. In some instances ancient drinking horns are the only charters proving the ownership of extensive possessions. The blowing of the horn has formed, and still forms, the prelude of many quaint customs for maintaining certain manorial and other rights. Some of the details of the old services of manors are extremely romantic, and supply not a few strange chapters in local and national history. Romance, in some of the records, takes the place of dry matter-of-fact statements, and adds not a little to the pleasure of the study of past ages.

THE HORN OF ULPHUS.

The important Horn of Ulphus is preserved in the treasure room of York Minster, and, apart from its rich historical associations, it is an object of great beauty. It is made from a portion of a large tusk of an elephant. Were this horn totally without a history or a tradition connected with it, its elaborate and peculiar character of ornamentation would render it an object of interest and value. It has two bands, one near the thinner end and the other at about a fifth part of the length from the thicker end. The space between the latter band and the end is adorned with sculptures in low relief, which express much that in European mediæval art did not appear for several hundreds of years later than the date of the horn, and which, it may fairly be supposed, are of Asiatic origin. The band of carvings is about four inches in width, and there are four chief figures. One appears to be an unicorn performing the act that, in the credulous natural history of long ago, it was so apt to indulge—namely, piercing a tree with its one horn, and so fixing itself and being at the hunter’s mercy. The unicorn is the symbol of chastity. At the other side of the tree is a lion killing and devouring a deer. Next, facing another tree with palmated leaves and grape-like fruit, is a gryphon, a creature having the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle. At the other side of this tree, and facing the gryphon, is a similar monster, which has, however, the head of a dog or wolf. The lion’s tail is foliated, while those of the winged beasts end in ludicrous dogs’ or wolves’ heads. Three wolves’ heads, collared, rise from the ground-line, and a wolf runs in the upper part, and it is not unlikely that Ulphus (or Ulf, equal to our word wolf) is so hinted at. The form of the animals, especially those which have wings, are Assyrian in feeling and treatment, while the treatment of the trees still further adds to the opinion that the horn is not a specimen of European carving.

Mr. Robert Davies, F.S.A., Town-Clerk of York, who wrote a monograph on this celebrated relic, from which a few of our particulars are drawn, conjectures that the horn would be brought to the Baltic shores by Arabic merchants; if so, it will be then more feasible to suppose that the carving would be executed previous to its being brought for sale. Having so far considered the form of the horn, let us next look a little into its history. The tradition, accepted from time immemorial, is simply this—that, a considerable period before the Conquest, the horn was given to the see of York by a Dane who had settled in England, as a symbol of endowment of the wide lands which he conferred upon the episcopate. This tradition comes down to the present day through various channels. First is a poem in Latin (among the Cotton MSS.), describing the different gifts to York up to about the twelfth century. In this, Ulf is described as an eminent Yorkshire earl and ruler, his gifts to the church are mentioned, and their confirmation by Edward the Confessor, the horn is noted to be the sign of endowment, and its great beauty enlarged upon. In one particular, the description differs from one that might be written at the present day, inasmuch that, whereas the horn is stated in the poem to be white, its hue now is brown. In Holland’s “Britannia,” the tradition is given as historically true, and in the following words: “Then it was, also, that princes bestowed many great livings and lands upon the church of York, especially Ulphus, the son of Torald (I note so much out of an old book, that there may plainly appear a custom of our ancestors in endowing churches with livings). This Ulphus, aforesaid, ruled the west part of Deira, and by reason of the debate that was like to arise between his sons, the younger and the elder, about their lordships and their seigniories after his death, forthwith he made them all alike. For, without delay, he went to York, took the horn with him out of which he was wont to drink, filled it with wine, and, before the altar of God, blessed Saint Peter, prince of the Apostles, kneeling upon his knees, he drank, and thereby enfeoffed them [the church] in all his lands and revenues. Which horn was there kept, as a monument (as I have heard) until our fathers’ days.”

In Domesday Book is mentioned an English thane named Ulf, who, in the reign of Edward the Confessor, had held large possessions in Northumbria, which, at the time of the Domesday Survey, had become the property of the see of York. It is further stated, that large territories which were held by the Archbishop of York, at the time of the Conquest, had also been owned by this same Ulf. In Kirkby’s “Inquest” (temp. Edward I.), these lands are again noted to be the gift of Ulf. Thus far, the tradition is corroborated by history, but the statement that Ulf’s sons were disinherited is incorrect, for Ulf had a large extent of property left after making his munificent gift to the Church, which his sons in due time inherited. These two sons, Archil and Norman, are included among the King’s thanes in Domesday Book. There was also another Ulf, who lived in the time of the King Canute, dying in 1036, but, though confounded with the Ulphus of our story, he was not the same, and had nothing to do with the charter horn of York.

THE PUSEY HORN.

The Pusey Horn, preserved at Pusey House, near Farringdon, has a curious traditional history, carrying us back to the days of the warlike Canute, and his struggles with the Saxons. It is related, that, on one occasion, the king’s soldiers and the Saxons were encamped near each other, in the neighbourhood of Pusey. An ancestor of the Pusey family, serving as an officer under the king, discovered an ambuscade, formed by the Saxons, to intercept the king’s army. He gave Canute a timely intimation of their intentions, and thus enabled him to foil their plans. For this important information, Canute gave to his informant and his heirs the manor of Pusey, and as a ratification of the grant, a horn was presented. It is the horn of an ox, measuring two feet and half-an-inch in length, and at the larger end is a foot in circumference. The colour of it is dark brown. Round the middle is a ring of silver-gilt, and the horn is supported on two hound’s feet. The small end has a screw stopper, also of silver-gilt, in the form of a hound’s head. It forms with the stopper a drinking horn, and without it a hunting horn. The silver ring bears the following inscription:

Hickes, writing about 1685, states: “Both the horn and manor were in his time possessed by Charles Pusey, who had recovered them in Chancery, before Lord Chancellor Jefferies; the horn itself being produced in court, and with universal admiration received, admitted, and proved to be the identical horn by which, as by charter, Canute had conveyed the manor of Pusey about seven hundred years before.” On the 25th of October, 1849, at a festival at Wantage, Berkshire, to celebrate the anniversary of the birthday of King Alfred, a dinner was held, and amongst the guests were Mr. Pusey, M.P., John Britton, the antiquary, and other notable men. It is reported that, “during the proceedings, a pleasureable interest was excited by the production of the extraordinary piece of antiquity, the Pusey Horn, presented by King Canute to the ancestor of Mr. Pusey, and forming the original tenure of the Pusey property, and inalienable from it.”

According to a popular legend, Edward the Confessor presented to a huntsman named Nigel, and his heirs, a hide of land and a wood called Hulewood, and the rangership of the royal forest of Bernwood, Buckinghamshire, as a reward for his courage in slaying a large wild boar which infested the place. The land was called Derehyde, and on it he built a house, naming it Borestalle, in memory of the slain animal. The grant was accompanied with a horn, which is preserved by the lords of Borestalle, and is known as Nigel’s horn. It is described as “being of a dark-brown colour, variegated and veined like tortoise-shell, and fitted with straps of leather to hang about the neck. It is tipped at each end with silver-gilt, and mounted with a plate of brass, having sculptured thereon the figure of a horn, and also several plates of silver-gilt fleurs-de-lis and an old brass seal ring.” In addition to the horn, is also preserved, an old folio vellum volume, containing transcripts of charters and evidences relating to the estate. It contains, we read, a rude drawing of the site of Borstall House and Manor, and under is the rude figure of a man presenting, on his knees, to the king, the head of a boar, on the point of a sword, and the king returning to him a coat-of-arms, arg. a fesse, gu. two crescents, and a horn, verde. The armorial bearings belong to a much later period than the reign of Edward the Confessor.

Before the Rhyne Toll was collected in Buckinghamshire, a horn was blown with not a little ceremony. The right of gathering the toll originated as a reward for a heroic deed performed in the days when the wild boar roamed the forests of England, much to the terror of the people. According to tradition, a ferocious boar had its lair in the ancient forest of Rookwoode. It kept the inhabitants of the district in constant fear of their lives, and prevented strangers visiting them. A valiant knight, the Lord of Chetwode, resolved to rid the country of the monster, or die in the attempt. Says an old ballad:

“Then he blowed a blast full north, south, east, and west—
Wind well thy horn, good hunter;
And the wild boar then heard him full in his den,
As he was a jovial hunter.
Then he made the best of his speed unto him—
Wind well thy horn, good hunter;
Swift flew the boar, with his tusks smeared with gore,
To Sir Ryalas, the jovial hunter.
Then the wild boar, being so stout and so strong—
Wind well thy horn, good hunter;
Thrashed down the trees as he ramped him along
To Sir Ryalas, the jovial hunter.
Then they fought four hours on a long summer day—
Wind well thy horn, good hunter;
Till the wild boar would fain have got him away
From Sir Ryalas, the jovial hunter.

Then Sir Ryalas he drawed his broad sword with might—
Wind well thy horn, good hunter;
And he fairly cut the boar’s head off quite,
For he was a jovial hunter.”

The countryside rang with the knight’s praise, and the king heard the welcome news. The sovereign, as a reward for his services, made “the jovial hunter,” we are told, “the knight tenant in capite, and constituted his manor paramount of all the manors within the limits and extent of the royal forest of Rookwoode.” The privilege of levying toll on all cattle passing through nine townships was granted to him and his heirs for ever. It was known as the Rhyne Toll, and commenced at midnight on October 29th, and ended at midnight on November 7th annually. Before the commencement of the collection of the toll, a horn was blown, as we have previously stated, with some ceremony. The toll was collected until 1868, when it was given up by Sir George Chetwode, the lord of the manor.

In the Chapter House, at Carlisle, is preserved an interesting relic known as the “Horns of the Altar.” Mr. Frank Buckland inspected it in 1879, and expressed his astonishment at finding it to be a walrus’s skull, without the lower jaw, with tusks about eighteen inches long. The skull itself was marked out with faded colours, so as to somewhat resemble a human skull. Canon Prescott supplied Mr. Buckland with some information about this curious charter horn. He said: “In the year 1290, a claim was made by the King, Edward I., and by others, to the tithes on certain lands lately brought under cultivation in the forest of Inglewood. The Prior of Carlisle appeared on behalf of his convent, and urged their right to the property on the ground that the tithes had been granted to them by a former king, who had enfeoffed them by a certain ivory horn (quoddam cornu eburneum), which he gave to the Church of Carlisle, and which they possessed at that time. The Cathedral of Carlisle has had in its possession for a great number of years two fine walrus tusks, with a portion of the skull. They appear in ancient inventories of goods of the cathedral as ‘one horn of the altar, in two parts,’ or ‘two horns of the altar’ (1674), together with other articles of the altar furniture. But antiquaries come to the conclusion that these were identical with the ‘ivory horn’ referred to above. Communications were made to the Society of Antiquaries (see Archæologia, Vol. III.) and they were called the ‘Carlisle Charter Horns.’ Such charter horns were not uncommon in ancient days. Bishop Lyttleton (1768), in a paper read before the society, said the ‘horns’ were so called improperly, being ‘certainly the teeth of some very large sea fish.’ It is probable that they were presented to the church as an offering, perhaps by some traveller, and used as an ornament to the altar. Such ornaments were frequent, both at the smaller altars and in the churches.”

Mr. Buckland, adverting to the foregoing, says: “I cannot quite understand how a walrus’s skull and teeth came to be considered so valuable as to be promoted to the dignity of a charter horn of a great cathedral like Carlisle. I am afraid Bishop Lyttleton, 1768, was not a naturalist, or he would never have called the tusks of a walrus ‘the teeth of some very large fish.’”

Hungerford, a pretty little town at the extreme west end of the royal county of Berks, has its ancient charter horn, and linked to it are some curious customs. A contributor to a local journal for 1876, states that “the town of Hungerford, Berkshire, enjoys some rare privileges and maintains some quaint customs. The inhabitants have the right of pasturage and of shooting over a large tract of downs and marsh land bequeathed to them by John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, subject to the annual observance of certain customs at this period of the year. They have also the right of fishing for trout in the Kennet, which flows through the borough. Hockney-day and the usual customs have just been observed in their integrity. The old horn, by which the tenure is held, had been blown from the Town Hall, summoning the commoners to their rights, and the tything men, whose duties are unique, have ably fulfilled them. These gentlemen carry long poles, decorated with flowers and garlands, having to call at each house and exact the tribute of a coin from each male, and a kiss from each lady. The High Constable or Mayor, whose office combines the duties of the coroner, is chosen on this day.”

Blowing three blasts on a horn formed part of an old custom at Chingford, Essex. Blount, in his “Tenures of Land,” and the historians of the county, direct attention to the ceremony. The estate of Brindwood’s was held under the following conditions: Upon every alteration, the owner of the estate, with his wife, man servant, and maid servant, each single on a horse, come to the parsonage, where the owner does his homage, and pays his relief in the manner following—he blows three blasts with his horn, carries a hawk on his fist, and his servant has a greyhound in a slip, both for the use of the rector for the day; he receives a chicken for his hawk, a peck of oats for his horse, and a loaf of bread for his greyhound. They all dine, after which the master blows three blasts with his horn, and they all depart. A correspondent to the Gentleman’s Magazine for 1790, gives particulars of this custom being kept up in the days of Queen Elizabeth.

At Bainbridge, the chief place of the forest of Wensleydale, Yorkshire, still lingers an old horn-blowing custom. An instrument known as the forest horn is blown on the green every night at ten o’clock from the first of September to Shrovetide. It is a very large one, and made from the horn of an ox. Its sound on the still night air may be heard for a considerable distance. In bygone ages, horns were blown to enable belated travellers to direct their course over the almost trackless roads to their destinations, and the welcome notes of the horn have saved many a lonely wayfarer from perishing in the snow.

SUNDAY IN THE OLDEN TIME.

The Old English Sunday.

he history of Sunday in England is a subject which merits careful consideration. The laws and customs of bygone times are both curious and interesting. The manner of observing Sunday is a subject which is fast coming to the front, and one which we must be prepared to discuss in a spirit of fairness.

In our investigations we shall find that, prior to the period of the Puritans coming into power in England, the day did not rank higher than other festivals observed by the Church.

Our Sunday laws commence with the Saxons, a rude race, who delighted in a wild life, in which war and bloodshed formed prominent features. Gluttony and drunkenness prevailed to a considerable extent.

The laws and canons passed from the days of Ine, who commenced to reign in Wessex in the year 688, to the time of Edward the Confessor, who died in 1066, clearly show that the Saxon rulers did their utmost to prevent Sunday labour, and that firm measures were also taken to put a stop to marketing on that day.

It appears, from the enactments of Ine, that if a lord commanded his slave to work on a Sunday, the slave became a freeman, and the lord was also fined thirty shillings. If, unknown to his lord, a slave worked, he was severely punished, or, in lieu of corporal punishment, he had to pay a fine. If a freeman was found guilty of Sunday labour, he had to forfeit his freedom, or pay a fine of sixty shillings. A priest was doubly liable.

Alfred was King of Wessex from 871 to 901, and we learn from his laws that if a thief was caught stealing on Sunday, at Yule, at Easter, on Holy Thursday, or during Rogation days, the penalty was double the amount of fine inflicted during the Lenten fast.

The laws of Edward, the elder, and Guthrum, made after the peace between the Danes and the English, 901 to 924, include some strict Sunday regulations. “If any one engage in Sunday marketing,” says the statute, “let him forefit the chattel, and twelve ore (192 pence) among the Danes, and thirty shillings among the English.” King Athelstan, about 924, passed a similar act to the preceding one, anent Sunday marketing.

Several important ecclesiastical laws were made in the reign of Edgar, which commenced in 959 and ended 975. We find, according to his enactments, that Sunday was to be kept from noontide on Saturday until the dawn of Monday, on peril of a fine. The following are two of his canons:

“And we enjoin you, that on feast days, heathen songs and devil’s games be abstained from.”

“And we enjoin, that Sunday and folk-motes be abstained from.”

When Canute, King of Denmark, became King of England, he passed several laws similar to those of Edgar. He also directed that Sunday should commence at noon on Saturday and end at dawn on Monday. He strongly forbade marketing and worldly works on Sunday. A condemned man in this reign was not put to death on a Sunday, unless he commenced fighting or attempted to flee.

Before leaving this section of our subject, it may be observed that the settlement of the Danes here did not produce any great changes, for the customs and institutions of their native land were similar to those of England. The civilization of the Danes, however, was lower in its standard than that of the Saxons. During the whole of the Anglo-Saxon period, slaves were sold like cattle in the open market. Many slaves were exported to Scotland and Ireland from the English markets.

It may not be out of place to make a few remarks on slavery. They have not any special bearing on the Sunday question, but illustrate the hard life of the period when severe laws prevailed. Of circumstances which brought persons into slavery, we may mention, in the first place, those obtained by right of conquest; next, those sold into slavery by their parents or by their own free will; another class were those found guilty of stealing, who were made slaves as a punishment for their crimes; many were doomed to slavery through not being able to pay the penalties imposed for breaking the laws of the land; and lastly, we find not a few traces of men voluntarily surrendering their liberty for food. Famines, at this time, occurred very often, and men were glad to be slaves for their own daily bread. A parent might sell his child if it had reached the age of seven years, and at thirteen a child might sell itself into slavery. A slave was usually estimated at four times the value of an ox. In the reign of King Athelstan, the punishment for theft was most severe; and, on the authority of Lingard, it is stated that a law was made respecting the offences committed by slaves against others than their masters, to the effect that a man thief was ordered to be stoned to death by twenty of his fellows, each of whom was punished with three whippings if he failed thrice to hit the culprit. A woman thief was burnt by eighty women slaves, each of whom brought three billets of wood to the execution. If she failed, she was likewise subjected to the punishment of three whippings. After the death of the offender, each slave paid three pennies as a fine to the proprietor. As Christianity spread, the condition of the slave became happier than before its truths were known. The slave might still be sold at the pleasure of the owner, but with the important restriction that a Christian was not permitted to be made over to a Pagan.

A low value was set on human life in Saxon England. Flogging was generally adopted for punishing persons guilty of offences, whether slight or serious. It was not an uncommon practice for mistresses to whip, or have their servants whipped to death.

On the 14th of October, in the year 1066, was fought the battle of Hastings. The contending armies were one led by Harold, the last of the Saxon kings, and the other by William, Duke of Normandy. Harold was slain, his brave followers defeated, and on the following Christmas Day, in the Abbey of Westminster, the Conqueror was crowned William I. On the whole, he made a noble sovereign, and the Normans added nobility of character to the people of the country in which they settled. It may fairly be asserted that, all that is best of old English life is the outcome of the settlement of the Normans in this land. The Sunday laws under the Normans were, to a large extent, an expansion of those in force in the Saxon era. Sunday trading received much attention, several enactments being passed respecting it. In earlier ages, markets and fairs were held on a Sunday, and in many instances in churchyards. At the commencement of the fourteenth century, the traders of Cockermouth suffered much from the active business operations at Crosthwaite. A petition was presented to Parliament, in 1305, by the inhabitants of the former town, stating that, owing to the sale of corn, flour, beans, flesh, fish, and other kinds of merchandise at Crosthwaite Church, on Sundays, their market was fast declining, and that the persons who farmed the tolls from the king were unable to pay their rent. An order was made for closing the church market at Crosthwaite.

Thursday was the chartered market-day at Bradford, Yorkshire, but it was changed to Sunday, and doubtless was held in the churchyard. The toll, about the time of Edward I., it is said, yielded £3 per annum, an amount equal to about £45 of money at the present time.

A statute, made in the reign of Edward I., in the year 1285, ordered “that, from henceforth, neither fairs nor markets be held in churchyards, for the honour of the Church.”

A market was granted to the town of Sedgefield, Durham, by Bishop Kellawe, in the year 1312, and it was to be held on a Friday. The people soon brought about a change, and held the market on a Sunday. The rector of Sedgefield directed the attention of Bishop Bury to the Sunday trading, and he confirmed the grant made a few years previously.

John Thorsby, Archbishop of York, about the year 1367, delivered to his subordinates a charge respecting Sunday trading. It is stated in the document as follows: “Desiring, therefore, to obviate some errors and abuses, so far as we can, which we see to grow rife in the church; in the first place (according to the example of Christ, who would have his own church called a house, not of merchandise, but of prayer; and not allowing fraudulent traffic there to be exercised, cast the buyers and sellers out of the temple), we firmly forbid any one to keep a market in the churches, the porches, and cemeteries thereunto belonging, or other holy places of our diocese, on the Lord’s day or other festivals, or to presume to traffic or hold any secular pleasures therein; and let there be no wrestlings, shootings, or plays, which may be the cause of sin, dissension, hatred, or fighting, therein performed; but let every Catholic come thither to pray, and to implore pardon for his sin.” About this time, a similar charge was made by the Archbishop of Canterbury.

In the year 1409, a statute of Henry IV. ordered:

“He that playeth at unlawful games on Sundays and other festival days prohibited by the statute, shall be six days imprisoned.”

At Hull, in 1428, the local bench of magistrates drew up a code of regulations respecting Sunday trading. The chief orders were as follow:

“That no markets be held upon Sunday, nor any merchandise or goods sold thereon, under penalty of 6s. 8d. to the seller and 3s. 4d. to the buyer, except according to ancient custom, from Lammas to Michaelmas.”

“That no butcher sell or expose for sale any meat on Sunday, under the aforesaid penalty.”

“That no cooks nor victuallers dress any meat on Sunday, except for strangers, and that, too, before eleven o’clock.”

“That no tradesmen keep their shops open on Sunday, nor sell any goods; nor any vintners or ale-sellers deliver or sell ale or wine on Sunday, under the aforesaid penalties.”

“Any person who shall inform against transgressors, shall be entitled to one-eighth over and above half of the sums so forfeited, provided he acted out of pure zeal, devoid of self-interest or malice.”

The City Records of Worcester contain some quaint items on the observance of Sunday. We may infer from a regulation made by the local authorities, at the commencement of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, that the laws were not very stringent respecting Sunday trading. It was resolved that the shopkeepers were to open “only one top window on a Sunday.” “This was,” to use the words of a local historian, “a decided case of huckstership dividing its affection between God and Mammon.”

The strangest circumstances anent Sunday trading remain to be told, and belong to the days of Charles II. It is stated on reliable authority, that a meat market was held at Wigton, Cumberland, on a Sunday, and that the butchers suspended carcases of meat at the church door, to attract the attention of persons attending divine service. “It was,” says the writer from whom we glean these particulars, “even no uncommon thing for people who had made their bargains before the service, to hang their joints of meat over the backs of their seats until the ceremony was concluded.” The practice was so distasteful to the priest, that, being unable to prevent it, he made a journey to London on foot, with a petition to the king to alter the market day to Tuesday, a request which was readily granted.

Sunday trading prevailed for a long period. Adam Clarke was appointed to preach in the Norfolk circuit in 1783, and he says here “multitudes, even those called religious people, bought and sold without any remorse.”

It was the common practice in country districts, even down to the commencement of the nineteenth century, for the parish clerk, on a Sunday morning, to mount a grave stone, and for the worshippers to gather round him and listen to the announcements of coming auction sales, particulars of rewards offered for the conviction of persons who had been guilty of trespassing and committing wilful damage in the district—indeed, all kinds of workaday matters were made known. Some of the old parish accounts contain references to payments made to the parish clerks for services rendered. It appears from the accounts of Newchurch, Rossendale, that the parish clerk stood in his desk in the church, and gave out secular notices, in which the people were supposed to take an interest. There is a legend still lingering in the district, that bull-baitings were amongst the matters proclaimed by the parish clerk of this church. The church accounts state under the year 1804:

At Ravenstonedale, when the practice of announcing sales, etc., in the churchyard ceased, the attendance at the ancient parish church diminished. The old parish clerks made many amusing blunders when giving out the public notices, and the following illustration may be given as an example. We are told that he was instructed to make known a change of service, as follows: “On Sunday next, the service in this church will be held in the afternoon, and on the following Sunday, it will be held in the morning, and so on alternately until further notice.” Instead of delivering the preceding notice, he said: “On Sunday next, the morning service in this church will be held in the afternoon, and on the following Sunday, the afternoon service will be held in the morning, and so on to all eternity.”

In the days of yore, stage plays were performed on Sunday, not only in the churches, but in the theatres. Old church accounts contain many items bearing on plays in parish churches. The books of St. Martin’s, Leicester, state:

The Bewdley chapel-wardens’ accounts for the year 1572, includes a disbursement as follows:

The Corporation of Lyme, in 1558, paid 4s. 5d. to the Queen’s players, who performed in the parish church. “We may suppose,” says Mr. George Roberts in his “Social History,” “that money was taken at the doors by some official of the mayor, who ascertained the deficiency to be as above.” The Syston registers state:

Prior to this period, not a few attempts had been made to stop acting in churches. Bonner, Bishop of London, issued, in 1542, a proclamation to the clergy in his diocese, prohibiting “all manner of common plays, games, or interludes to be played, set forth, or declared within their churches or chapels.” The author of a tract, published in 1572, writes strongly respecting the clergy neglecting their duty, and adverts to acting in churches. Speaking of the clergyman conducting the service, the writer says: “He againe posteth it over as fast as he can gallop; for he either hath two places to serve, or else there are some games to be played in the afternoon, as lying the whetstone, heathenish dancing of the ring, a beare or bull to be bayted, or else jack-an-apes to ryde on horse back, or an enterlude to be played; and if no place else can be gotten, it must be done in the church.”

Two companies of players, in 1539, visited Knowsley; one was the Queen’s players, and the other the Earl of Essex’s players. On the Sunday after their arrival, the rector of Standish preached in the morning, the Queen’s players acted in the afternoon, and the Earl’s players at night. Other Sunday performances were given in the district by the actors at this time.

Before 1579, Sunday appears to have been the only day upon which plays were performed, but after that year they were acted on other days as well as on Sunday. It was not the fashion for females to visit theatres, but at Oxford we find that Queen Elizabeth witnessed a Sunday theatrical exhibition. James I., at his Court on a Sunday, had plays provided. The Bishop of Lincoln, on Sunday night, September 27th, 1631, had performed, in his London house, the play of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” and for this he was indicted by the Puritans. Masques on a Sunday night at this period were extremely popular.

During a visit of James I. to Oxford, in 1621, on a Sunday in August, the university men produced a piece called the “Marriage of Arts.” It was not a successful entertainment, the king and his friends failing to appreciate the wit of the undergraduates. Says an epigram of the period:

“At Christ Church, ‘Marriage’ done before the King,
Least that some mates should want an offering,
The King himself did offer—what, I pray?
He offered twice or thrice to go away.”

In the town of Hull, the player, about this period, does not appear to have been regarded with much esteem. The earliest notice of theatres in Hull occurs in the year 1598, and we learn from Mr. Sheahan, the local historian: “That the Mayor issued an order, in which ‘divers idle, lewd persons, players, or setters of plays, tragedies, comedies, and interludes,’ who were in the habit of coming to the town, were denounced.” In this document, it was further set forth that persons patronising their performances would have to forfeit 2s. 6d. for every offence.

Football was introduced into England by the Romans, and it is our oldest sport. In past ages, it was a popular Sunday amusement, and, in not a few places, it was played until the earlier years of the present century. Attempts were made to prevent its being practised during the time of Divine service. An entry bearing on this subject appears in the parish accounts of Colne, Lancashire. The item is as follows:

The local authorities were equally severe on Sunday idlers. The accounts for the year 1737 include a charge “for warrant to take up idle persons on the Sabbath-day, £0 2s. 0d.” An annual football match was formerly played at Beverley on the Sunday preceding the races. The game commenced on the racecourse, and was attended by a large number of persons from the surrounding villages. The Corporation made several attempts to stop the custom, but without avail until 1825, and then not without a struggle. A number of constables received special instructions to stop the sport, but they were, however, severely handled, and the match was played. The aggressors were subsequently tried, and convicted of assault, and imprisoned with hard labour for a time. This action prevented any further Sunday football playing at Beverley.

A good anecdote is related in Dawson’s “History of Skipton,” respecting Sunday football playing. It is stated that the Rev. J. Alcock, B.A., of Burnsall, was on his way to conduct afternoon service, when he saw a number of boys playing football. “With a solemn shake of the head,” says Mr. Dawson, “he rebuked them. ‘This is very wrong, you are breaking the Sabbath!’ The remonstrance fell unheeded, and the next moment the ball rolled to Mr. Alcock’s feet. He gave a tremendous kick, sending it high in the air. ‘That’s the way to play football!’ he said to the ring of admiring athletes, and then, amidst their universal praise, he proceeded on his way to church.”

Bowling was, in bygone ages, a popular Sunday pastime. Ladies appear to have greatly enjoyed the sport. Charles I. and Archbishop Laud were both very fond of bowling. When Laud was taken to task for playing on Sunday, he defended himself by showing that it was well known to be one of the favourite amusements of the Church of Geneva. When John Knox, the Scottish reformer, visited Calvin, he arrived on a Sunday, and found Calvin enjoying a game at bowls. It is not stated if Knox joined in the pastime, but we certainly know that he travelled, wrote letters, and even entertained Ambassadors and others on this day. On a Sunday, in the year 1562, Knox attended the marriage of James Stuart (afterwards the Earl of Murray), and it is asserted that he countenanced a display which included a banquet, a marquee, dancing, fireworks, etc. Not a few of the godly lifted up their voices in condemnation, not so much, we infer, on account of the day, but the extravagances to which the amusements were carried. About half a century later, was married, on Shrove Sunday, 1613, Frederick, the Prince Palatine, and the Princess Elizabeth. The day ended, we are told, according to the custom of such assemblies, with dancing, masking, and revelling. In the works of Shakespeare and other dramatists will be found many allusions to Sunday weddings.

We gather from numerous Acts of Parliament, and other sources, that, after attending church, the people in the old days devoted themselves to “honest recreation and manly sports.” Particular attention was paid to the practice of archery. Richard II., for example, in the year 1388, directed that his subjects, who were servants of husbandry, and artificers, should use the bow on Sundays and other holidays, and they were enjoined to give up “tennis, football, dice, casting the stone, and other importune games.” The next king, Henry IV., strictly enforced the statute made by his predecessor, and those who infringed it were liable to be imprisoned for six days.

Sunday was a great day for bear baiting. It was on the last Sunday of April, 1520, that part of the chancel of St. Mary’s Church, Beverley, fell, killing fifty-five people, who had assembled for the celebration of mass. A bear baiting, held in another part of the town, at the same time, had drawn a much greater crowd together, and hence the origin of the Yorkshire saying, “It is better to be at the baiting of a bear, than the singing of a mass.” At an accident in a London bear-garden, the people did not fare so well, for we learn that on a “Sunday afternoon, in the year 1582, the scaffolds being overcharged with spectators, fell during the performance, and a great number of persons were killed or maimed by the accident.”

We get a good idea of the Sunday amusements in vogue at the time of Elizabeth, from a license the Queen granted to a poor man, permitting him to provide for the public certain Sunday sports. “To all mayors, sheriffs, constables, and other head officers within the county of Middlesex.—After our hearty commendations, whereas we are informed that one John Seconton, poulter, dwelling within the parish of St. Clement’s Danes, being a poor man, having four small children, and fallen into decay, is licensed to have and use some plays and games at or upon several Sundays, for his better relief, comfort, and sustentation, within the county of Middlesex, to commence and begin at and from the 22nd of May next coming, after the date hereof, and not to remain in one place above three several Sundays; and we, considering that great resort of people is like to come thereunto, we will and require of you, as well for good order, as also for the preservation of the Queen’s Majesty’s peace, that you take with you four or five of the discreet and substantial men within your office or liberties where the games shall be put in practice, then and there to foresee and do your endeavour to your best in that behalf, during the continuance of the games or plays, which games are hereafter severally mentioned; that is to say, the shooting with the standard, the shooting with the broad arrow, the shooting at twelve score prick, the shooting at the Turk, the leaping for men, the running for men, the wrestling, the throwing of the sledge, and the pitching of the bar, with all such other games as have at any time heretofore or now be licensed, used, or played. Given the 26th day of April, in the eleventh year of the Queen’s Majesty’s reign.”—[1569.]

The Puritans were making their power felt early in the seventeenth century, and doing their utmost to curtail Sunday amusements. The history of the north of England supplies not a few facts bearing on this matter. One illustration we may give you as an instance of many which might be mentioned. Elias Micklethwaite filled the office of chief magistrate of York, in the year 1615, and during his mayoralty, he attempted to enforce a strict observance of the Sabbath. During the Sunday, he kept closed the city gates, and thus prevented the inhabitants from going into the country for pleasure.

Speaking of city gates, we are reminded of the fact that great precaution used to be taken against the Scotch in the North of England. Many were the battles between the men of England and Scotland. A Scotchman was not formerly permitted to enter the city of York without a license from the Lord Mayor, the Warden, or the Constable, on pain of imprisonment. In 1501, hammers were placed on each of the bars for Scotchmen to knock before entering.

To return to Sunday amusements, James I., in the year 1617, coming from Scotland to London, passed through Lancashire, and was received with every token of loyalty. He was entertained at Hoghton Tower in a manner befitting a monarch. It is not without interest to state how the king and his suite spent the Sunday at this stronghold on the 17th August, 1617. A sermon was first preached by Bishop Morton; next, dinner was served, which was of a substantial character. About four o’clock, a rush-bearing, preceded by “piping,” was witnessed by the king. After the rustic merriment, the company partook of supper, which was almost as formidable as the dinner. After supper, the king repaired to the garden, and a masque of noblemen, knights, and gentlemen passed before him. Speeches were made, and lastly, the night was concluded by “dancing the Huckler, Tom Bedlo, and the cowp Justice of the Peace.” It is stated that Bishop Morton condemned the profaneness of the company who had disturbed the service at the church. During the king’s visit to the country, it is recorded that a large number of the tradesmen, peasants, and servants, of the County Palatine, presented a petition, praying that they might be permitted to have the old out-door pastimes after the services at the church were over. The king granted their request, and issued a proclamation from his palace, at Greenwich, on May 24th, 1618, sanctioning various sports after divine service on Sunday. It was meant only for Lancashire. The recreations named are dancing, archery, leaping, vaulting, May games, Witsun-ales, morris-dancers, and setting up of May-poles. The document, known as the “Book of Sports,” gave considerable offence to the Puritans. Clergymen were directed to read it in their churches.

The question came forward under the next king, Charles I., and on October 18th, 1633, he ratified and published his father’s declaration. This action, in many quarters, was most displeasing, and a number of the clergy refused to read the order. One of the ministers was, in 1637, deprived and excommunicated by the High Commission Court for not acceding to the request. Six years later, namely, in 1643, the Lords and Commons ordered the “Book of Sports” to be burned by the common hangman, at Cheapside and other public places.

We have now brought down our investigations to the days of the Commonwealth. King Charles’s life closed in a tragic manner, at the hands of the headsman, on a scaffold erected before one of the windows of the Palace of Whitehall. Old times are changed, and old manners gone; a stranger fills the Stuart throne. In our pity for unfortunate Charles, we must not forget that English life under the Stuarts became demoralised, the court setting a baneful example, which the people were not slow to follow. Licentiousness and blasphemy were mistaken for signs of gentility, and little regard was paid to virtue. Debauchery was general, and at the festive seasons was carried to an alarming extent. The Puritans, with all their faults, and it must be admitted that their faults were many, had a regard for sound Christian principles; and the prevailing lack of reverence for virtue, morality, and piety, was most distasteful to them, and caused them to try to put an end to the follies and vices of the age.

Various Acts of Parliament were passed to check work and amusement on the Lords Day. We get from the Puritans our present manner of observing Sunday. The following are a few extracts from the “Directory of Public Prayers, reading of the Holy Scriptures,” etc., which was adopted by the Puritan Parliament in 1644. It is therein stated:

“The Lord’s Day ought to be so remembered beforehand, as that all worldly business of our ordinary callings may be so ordered, and so timely and seasonably laid aside, as they may not be impediments to the due sanctifying of the day when it comes.

The whole day is to be celebrated as holy to the Lord, both in public and in private, as being the Christian Sabbath, to which ends it is requisite that there be a holy cessation or resting all the day, from all unnecessary labour, and an abstaining not only from all sports and pastimes, but also from all worldly words and thoughts.

That the diet on that day be so ordered as that neither servants be unnecessarily detained from the public worship of God, nor any other persons hindered from sanctifying that day.

That there be private preparation of every person and family by prayer for themselves, for God’s assistance of the minister, and for a blessing upon the ministry, and by such other holy exercises as may further dispose them to a more comfortable communion with God in his public ordinances.

That all the people meet so timely for public worship that the whole congregation may be present at the beginning, and with one heart solemnly join together in all parts of the public worship, and not depart till after the blessing.

That what time is vacant, between or after the solemn meetings of the congregation in public, be spent in reading, meditation, repetition of services (especially by calling their families to an account of what they have heard, and catechising of them), holy conferences, prayer for a blessing upon the public ordinances, singing of Psalms, visiting the sick, relieving the poor, and such like duties of piety, charity, and mercy, accounting the Sabbath a delight.”

Earnest attempts were made to improve the morals of the people, but the zeal of the Puritans was often not tempered with mercy, and frequently displayed a want of common-sense. In America, the Puritans made some very curious Sunday laws. Walking, riding, cooking, and many other natural needs of life were forbidden. Sports and recreations were punished by a fine of forty shillings and a public whipping. In New England, a mother might not kiss her child on a Sunday. An English author, visiting America in the year 1699, supplies interesting details anent Sunday laws at that time. Says the traveller: “If you kiss a woman in public, though offered as a courteous salutation, if any information is given to the select members, both shall be whipped or fined.” As a slight compensation for the severity of the regulation, he adds that the “good humoured lasses, to make amends, will kiss the offender in a corner.” He adverts to the captain of a ship, who, on his return from a long voyage, met his wife in the street, and kissed her, and for the offence had to pay ten shillings. Another Boston man was fined the same amount for kissing his wife in his own garden. The culprit refused to pay the money and had to endure twenty lashes.

Tobacco, in Virginia, took the place of money as a medium of exchange. A person absenting himself from church was fined one pound of tobacco, and for slandering a clergyman, eight hundred pounds. Ten pounds covered the cost of a dinner, and eight pounds a gallon of strong ale, and innkeepers were forbidden to charge more.

An important Act was passed in the reign of Charles II., in the year 1676, for the better observance of the Lord’s day. It prohibited travelling, the pursuit of business, and all sales, except that of milk. Old church records and other documents contain numerous references to Sunday travelling, and, as an example, we may state that it appears, from the books of St. James’s Church, Bristol, at a vestry meeting, held in 1679, four persons were found guilty of walking “on foot to Bath on Lord’s day,” and were each fined twenty shillings.

In past ages, attending church was not a matter of choice, but one of obligation. Several Acts of Parliament were made bearing on this subject. Laws of Edward VI. and of Elizabeth provided as follows: “That every inhabitant of the realm or dominion shall diligently and faithfully, having no lawful or reasonable excuse to be absent, endeavour themselves to their parish church or chapel accustomed; or, upon reasonable let, to some usual place where common prayer shall be used—on Sundays and holy days—upon penalty of forfeiting, for every non-attendance, twelve pence, to be levied by the Churchwardens to the use of the poor.” The enactments regarding holy days were allowed to be disregarded. In the reign of James I., the penalty of a shilling for not attending church on Sunday was re-enforced. Sunday, only in respect of the attendance at church, is named in the statutes of William and Mary and George III., by which exceptions in favour of dissenters from the Church of England were made. Not a few suits were commenced against persons for not attending church. An early case is noted in the church book of St. James’s, Bristol. On July 6th, 1598, Henry Anstey, a resident in that parish, had, in answer to a summons, to appear before the vestry for not attending the church. At Kingston-on-Thames, we gather from the parish accounts that the local authorities, in 1635, “Received from idle persons, being from the church on Sabbaths, 3s. 10d.” Some more recent cases are named by Professor Amos, in his Treatise on Sir Matthew Hale’s “History of the Pleas of the Crown.” In the year 1817, it is stated that, “at the Spring Assizes of Bedford, Sir Montague Burgoyne was prosecuted for having been absent from church for several months; when the case was defeated by proof of the defendant being indisposed. And in the Report of the Prison Inspectors to the House of Lords, in 1841, it appeared that, in 1830, ten persons were in prison for recusancy in not attending their parish churches. A mother was prosecuted by her own son. It is clear that, in many instances, personal and not religious feeling gave rise to the actions.” The laws respecting recusants were repealed in the year 1844.

The Easter Sepulchre.

everal of our old churches contain curious stone structures called Easter Sepulchres. They are generally on the north side of the chancel, and resemble, in design, a tomb. Before the Reformation, it was the practice on the evening of Good Friday, to place the Crucifix and Host in these sepulchres with much ceremony. Numerous candles were lighted, and watchers stood by until the dawn of Easter Day. Then, with every sign of devotion, the Crucifix and Host were once more removed to the altar, and the church re-echoed with joyous praise.

Concerning this ceremony, Cranmer says that it was done “In remembrance of Christ’s sepulture, which was prophesied by Esaias to be glorious, and to signify there was buried the pure and undefiled body of Christ, without spot of sin, which was never separated from the Godhead, and, therefore, as David expressed it in the fifteenth Psalm, it could not see corruption, nor death detain or hold Him, but, He should rise again, to our great hope and comfort; and, therefore, the church adorns it with lights to express the great joy they have of that glorious triumph over death, the devil, and hell.”

We have adverted to Easter Sepulchres of stone remaining at the present time, but they were by no means the only description erected. The Rev. Mackenzie E. C. Walcott, in his “Sacred Archæology,” names, as follow, five sorts of sepulchres. The first, a chapel, as at Winchester; second, a wall recess, usually in the north side of the chancel, as at Bottesford, Lincolnshire, and Stanton St. John; third, a temporary structure, sumptuously enriched, as at St. Mary, Redcliffe, Bristol; fourth, a tomb, under which a founder, by special privilege, was buried; fifth, a vaulted enclosure, as at Norwich, which, like a sepulchre at Northwold, has an aperture for watching the light, without requiring the person so employed to enter the choir.

There was an imposing example at Seville, raised over the tomb of Columbus. It was constructed of wood, and was three storeys high, and brilliantly lighted. According to an old poet:

“With tapers all the people come, and at the barriars stay,
Where downe upon their knees they fall, and night and day they pray,
And violets and every kinde of flowers about the grave
They straw, and bring all their giftes and presents that they have.”

We are told that in many places, the steps of the sepulchre were covered with black cloth. Soldiers in armour, keeping guard, rendered the ceremony impressive. A gentleman named Roger Martin, who lived at the time of the Reformation, wrote an interesting account of the church of Melford, Suffolk. The following particulars are drawn from his manuscript respecting the Easter Sepulchre: “In the quire, there was a fair painted frame of timber, to be set up about Maunday Thursday, with holes for a number of fair tapers to stand in before the sepulchre, and to be lighted in the service time. Sometimes, it was set overthwart the quire, before the high altar, the sepulchre being alwaies placed, and finely garnished, at the north end of high altar, between that and Mr. Clopton’s little chapel there, in a vacant place of the wall, I think upon a tomb of one of his ancestors, the said frame with the tapers was set near to the steps going up to the said altar.” The tomb referred to is that of John Clopton, Esquire, of Kentwell Hall, who filled the office of Sheriff of the county of Suffolk in the year 1451, and died in 1497. An inventory of church goods belonging to Melford Church, under date of April 6th, 1541, has a statement to the effect that “There was given to the church of Melford, two stained cloths, whereof the one hangeth towards Mr. Martin’s ile, and the other to be used about the sepulchre at Easter time.”

In a curious work entitled “The Ancient Rites and Monuments of the Monastical and Cathedral Church of Durham,” collected from out of ancient manuscripts about the time of the suppression, and published by J. D. (Davies), of Kidwelly, in 1672, there is an interesting account of a custom enacted at Durham. The following account is supposed to have been written in 1593, and, perhaps, by one who took part in the ceremonies, at all events, the writer was conversant with them. “Within the Church of Durham, upon Good Friday, there was a marvellous solemn service, in which service time, after the Passion was sung, two of the ancient monks took a goodly large crucifix, all of gold, of the picture of our Saviour Christ, nayled upon the cross.... The service being ended, the said two monks carried the cross to the sepulchre with great reverence, which sepulchre was set up in the morning on the north side of the quire, nigh the high altar, before the service time, and they did lay it within the said sepulchre with great devotion, with another picture of our Saviour Christ, in whose Breast they did enclose, with great reverence, the most holy and blessed Sacrament of the Altar, censing and praying unto it upon their knees, a great space; and setting two lighted tapers before it, which did burn till Easter Day in the morning, at which time it was taken forth.... There was very solemn service betwixt three and four of the clock in the morning, in honour of the Resurrection, where two of the eldest monks in the quire came to the sepulchre, set up upon Good Fryday, after the Passion, all covered with red velvet embroider’d with gold, and did then cense it, either of the monks with a pair of silver censers, sitting on their knees before the sepulchre. Then they, both rising, came to the sepulchre, out of which, with great reverence, they took a marvellous beautiful image of our Saviour, representing the Resurrection, with a cross in his hand, on the breast was enclosed, in most bright chrystal, the holy Sacrament of the Altar, through which chrystal, the Blessed Host was conspicious to the beholders. Then, after the elevation of the said picture, carried by the said two monks, upon a fair velvet cushion, all embroider’d, singing the anthems of Christus Resurgens, they brought it to the high altar.” We gather from the preceding and other accounts, that the sepulchre at Durham was a temporary erection, consisting of a wooden framework, having silk hangings.

As might be expected, much interesting information may be found in old churchwardens’ accounts bearing on this theme. The records of St. Mary Redcliffe Church, Bristol, contain the following entries:

“Item—That Maister Canynge hath delivered, this 4th day of July, in the year of Our Lord 1470, to Maister Nicholas Petters, vicar of St. Mary Redcliffe, Moses Conterin, Philip Bartholomew, Procurators of St. Mary Redcliffe aforesaid, a new sepulchre, well gilt with golde, and a civer thereto.

Item—An image of God Almighty rising out of the same sepulchre, with all the ordinance that longeth thereto; that is to say, a lathe made of timber, and the ironwork thereto.

Item—Thereto longeth Heaven, made of timber and stayned clothes.