RELIGIOUS LIFE.

On the summit of the hill which slopes on the south to the Thames, and more steeply on the west to the rapid stream of the Fleet, has for many centuries stood a church dedicated to the great Apostle of the Gentiles. The ancient statute-book of St. Paul’s Cathedral states that Lucius, king of Greater Britain, in the year 185 was converted by the emissaries of the Pope, who founded three metropolitical sees, the first of which was London. This legendary foundation of the See of London has been associated by some writers with the Cathedral Church of St. Paul, and by others with the Church of St. Peter on Cornhill. But King Lucius has long ago been dismissed into the region of myth.

Whilst, however, it is unknown how London first received Christianity, the date can be pretty closely fixed. “There can be no doubt,” says Dean Milman, “that conquered and half-civilised Britain gradually received, during the second and third centuries, the faith of Christ. St. Helena, the mother of Constantine, probably imbibed the first fervour of those Christian feelings which wrought so powerfully in the Christianity of her age, in her native Britain.” The memory of St. Helena has, from a very early period, been enshrined in London in the dedication of St. Helen’s, Bishopsgate, formerly the Church of the Nunnery of St. Helen, the site having apparently been originally occupied by a Roman building. The parish church in Bishopsgate was built before 1010, and close adjoining was the Priory of the Nuns of St. Helen, founded about 1212.

In the year A.D. 314, more than a century before the departure of the Romans, Restitutus, bishop of London, appears in the list of prelates who were present at the Council of Arles; and we may take it for granted that the Christian Church was duly organized at that time. But the advent of the English was the absolute and complete destruction of it for the time being. The English were entirely heathen.

The end of the sixth century saw the memorable mission of St. Augustine and his band of Christian workers. Ethelbert, king of Kent, became his first convert. In the year 604, as we learn from Ralph de Diceto, the historian and Dean of St. Paul’s, “Ethelbert, the King, built the Church of St. Paul, London;” and St. Augustine himself consecrated Mellitus as Bishop of the See. The Manor of Tillingham, one of those with which that King enriched the Church, still remains in the possession of the Dean and Chapter.

What was the form of this first Cathedral, and whether built of wood or stone, we have no evidence to show. Maitland, in his History, says that the first Cathedral was built in the PrÆtorian camp of the Romans, and destroyed under Diocletian. He gives no authority for this statement, but it has no inherent improbability, for there are several examples in England of churches standing within ancient camps, e.g., the recently discovered church at Silchester.

Mellitus, as we have already seen, was driven away by the relapse of the East Saxon King into Paganism after Ethelbert’s death. But the faith was firmly implanted, and after a while burst forth in strength. Mellitus returned to England in February, 619, not to his See of London, but to succeed Laurence as Archbishop of Canterbury. He died five years afterwards (24th April, 624), a day long observed with honour in the Church of London, as may be seen in its ancient calendar.

Another of London’s early prelates deserves special mention. Fourth in succession, but towering above his predecessors, both in history and legend, stands St. Erkenwald, who was consecrated in 675. He is said to have been the son of Offa, king of East England, and, when a boy, to have heard Mellitus preach in London. Before he became bishop, he had founded two famous monasteries: one for himself, at Chertsey in Surrey; the other for his sister Ethelburga, at Barking in Essex. Erkenwald held the See from 675 to 693, and was afterwards canonised. Large crowds of pilgrims flowed to his shrine in St. Paul’s. The day of his death, April 30th, and the day of his translation, November 14th, were long observed as festival days in St. Paul’s Cathedral.

At an early period the retirement of a hermit’s life became familiar to Englishmen, chiefly by reports from their countrymen who had travelled abroad. One of the most famous of these religious recluses was Peter the Hermit, the Preacher of the Crusades. Another class were known as anchorites, and frequently lived in or near churches; sometimes over the porch, or in other curious recesses. In the parish books of All Hallows, London Wall, are many particulars of Simon the Anker or Anchorite, who lived on the wall in or adjoining the church, and received much from the alms of the faithful. It must be added, in justice to Simon, that he proved a liberal benefactor to the Church of All Hallows.

The greatest man in England in the earlier half of the tenth century was Dunstan, who was first a student and afterwards Abbot of Glastonbury Abbey. His popularity during and after his life is shown by the numerous churches named after him. There are two in the City; and the old church of Stepney, which Dunstan rebuilt in A.D. 952 (just now, alas! laid waste by fire), is still called by his name. Some of the great monastic houses were flourishing during the late Saxon period, but the greater part grew up in Norman times.

The ancient house of St. Martin-le-Grand was founded by Witraed about the year 700, refounded in 1056 by Edward and Ingelric, and confirmed in its privileges as a secular college by William the Conqueror. By the Conqueror’s charter, St. Martin’s obtained its well-known right of sanctuary, which arose through its exemption from ecclesiastical and civil jurisdiction. Of the magnificent Priory of St. Bartholomew, Smithfield, we have previously spoken. Rahere, the first prior, finished the buildings in 1123, the work having occupied twenty years. Henry I., by a charter, conferred great privileges on the priory and hospital, including the right to hold Bartholomew Fair in Smithfield. The Norman Conquest brought the establishment of many new monastic foundations, but the policy adopted in founding them was to rob the parishes of their endowments. Instances of this are everywhere to be found. Rufus gave the endowment of Chesterfield parish church to Lincoln Cathedral. Rahere transferred to the Augustinian Canons settled in his Priory of St. Bartholomew much revenue which belonged to churches elsewhere. The Templars and the Hospitalers had each an important settlement in London. The Templars first established themselves in Holborn, at the end of Chancery Lane, in 1118, and removed to Fleet Street, or the new Temple, in 1184. The Knights of St. John of Jerusalem founded their magnificent abode in West Smithfield, interesting remains of which are preserved in the beautiful crypt lately restored and the well-known St. John’s Gate.

Among the other early foundations in Fitzstephen’s time were the hospital and church of St. Katharine, by the Tower, built by Matilda, queen of Stephen; St. Mary Overy’s Priory, at the Southwark foot of London Bridge, founded in 1106; and the great Priory of the Holy Trinity, without Aldgate, whose prior was an Alderman of London. Among the lesser foundations were the hospitals of St. Giles and St. Mary Spital, the nunnery of Clerkenwell, and that of St. Helen, Bishopsgate. The hospital of St. Thomas of Acon was founded by Agnes, sister of St. Thomas of Canterbury, about twenty years after his martyrdom, the site being that of the house occupied by the Becket family in Cheapside. At the Dissolution the whole was granted to the Mercers, who established on the site their hall and chapel. Besides the injury done to the parishes by the monastic system, and the consequent impoverishment of the parochial clergy, another grave evil attaching to these religious foundations was their exemption from episcopal control. This was especially the case with all the Cistercian houses. The Carthusians, an order of monks founded by St. Bruno in the later part of the eleventh century, had a famous London house, still known as the Charterhouse, established in 1349 by Sir Walter de Manny. These various Orders had standing rivalry among themselves. The Regulars, who retired from the world in complete monastic seclusion, were bitterly jealous of the Seculars, who associated themselves with the Cathedral and parochial clergy and mixed with the people. Much misapprehension prevails on the subject of these religious Orders. There was no “poverty” in Monasticism, whatever the vows. The hospitality for which their friends praised them so much was often a condition of their foundation charters, under which they were obliged to entertain their founders when they travelled that way. A striking instance is seen in the case of Bethlehem Hospital, which was founded solely for the purpose of “entertaining the Bishop of Bethlehem if ever he should visit England”—a transparent ruse for maintaining in luxury a master who did not even wear a habit.

The coming of the Friars brought to the City still more sumptuous religious houses. The Dominicans, or Black Friars, were the first to arrive in 1221, and were followed by the Franciscans, or Grey Friars, in 1224, and these communities soon spread themselves over all the land. The Carmelites, or White Friars, came to England in 1240, and were established in London between Fleet Street and the Thames in the following year. The settlement of the Crouched, Crutched, or Crossed Friars was nearly a century later. Their home was near Hart Street, leading to Tower Hill, where they were settled in 1319 by Ralph Hosier and William Sabernes. The house of the Augustine or Austin Friars was founded by Humphrey Bohun, earl of Hereford and Essex, in 1253; and the nave of the church has fortunately been preserved for use by the Dutch Protestant Church.

It is to the cathedral of a city that we should look for the mainspring of its religious life, and it will be both useful and interesting to glance at the inner life of St. Paul’s, and the leading facts in its history. Although the magnificent structure of the old cathedral perished in the Great Fire, we have fortunately, through the labours of Sir William Dugdale and others, and the extensive collection of early records preserved in the cathedral library, copious material for obtaining a fairly complete picture of Old St. Paul’s. In the middle of the fifteenth century the cathedral body consisted of the following officials: The Bishop, the Dean, four Archdeacons, a Treasurer, Precentor, and Chancellor. To these must be added a body of thirty greater canons, twelve lesser canons, a considerable number of chaplains, and thirty vicars.

St. Paul’s is one of the nine cathedrals of the old foundation; eight belong to the new foundation, five were founded by Henry VIII., and the remaining Sees in modern times. The churches of the old foundation were churches of secular canons; those of the new foundation were monastic houses—generally Benedictine—of which, therefore, the government had to be reconstituted. The monastic houses were ruled by the Abbot, whilst in the secular churches of the old foundation the Dean presided over the Chapter.At St. Paul’s, then, the Bishop was the highest in authority, and was received with great honour and ceremony on his visits to the cathedral. In his gift were all the prebendal stalls, and his episcopal palace stood close to the cathedral at its north-west corner.

The Dean was next in office to the Bishop; he was elected from and by the body of the Chapter. In the Dean’s absence, the Sub-Dean—always one of the minor canons—fulfilled his duties in choir, and exercised his authority over minor officials, but he did not occupy the Dean’s stall.

Next in dignity to the Dean were the four Archdeacons of London, Essex, Middlesex, and Colchester, the Archdeacon of St. Albans being added in the reign of Henry VIII. The Treasurer had charge of all the goods of the church, such as vestments, service-books, altar furniture, &c. He was assisted by the Sacrist as his deputy, and under the Sacrist, by three vergers.

The Precentor, with the assistance of his deputy, the Succentor, directed the music of the cathedral. The Chancellor was the person from whom the schoolmasters of the Metropolis received their licence to teach; among many other duties, he composed the letters and deeds of the Chapter, and had committed to him the punishment of clerks of the lower grade.

The Canons or Prebendaries were thirty in number, and, with the Bishop at their head, constituted the Chapter. They elected both Bishop and Dean, and each had an endowment attached to his stall. The names of the manors forming these endowments still appear above the Prebendaries’ stalls. One of the stalls still bears the name of Consumpta per Mare; the estate was in Walton-on-the-Naze, and the inundation which the name commemorates seems to have occurred about the time of the Conquest.

It was the duty of each Canon, whether in church or absent, to recite daily a portion of the psalter. The first words of the section to be recited by each still stand, as they stood of old, over the stall of each of the Prebendaries. As there are thirty Prebendaries, and a hundred and fifty psalms, the portion which each was bound to repeat was about five psalms. Dean Donne, who was Prebendary of Chiswick early in the seventeenth century, wrote: “Every day God receives from us, however we be divided from one another in place, the sacrifice of praise in the whole Booke of Psalmes. And though we may be absent from this Quire, yet wheresoever dispersed, we make up a Quire in this Service of saying over all the Psalms every day.”

Of these thirty Canons, a varying number residing on the spot, and taking their part in the daily offices, were called Residentiaries. Besides a constant attendance during all the canonical hours, each Residentiary was expected to show large and costly hospitality, and this practice survived in part so late as the year 1843. Some Canons preferred to live upon their own estates, others held their stalls as one of many pluralities, for they were sometimes bestowed upon bishops, dignitaries, foreigners, and even upon children. Many of them being consequently non-resident, each Canon had a substitute called his Vicar. The vicars took rank after the chaplains, who in their turn were inferior to the minor canons. These corresponded with the Vicars Choral of the present day.

The twelve Minor Canons, a body as old as the Cathedral itself, had a Royal Charter of Incorporation as a College granted them by Richard II. in 1394. They possessed estates of their own, and had a common seal. One of their number was elected by them as Custos or Warden, and two were called Cardinals, Cardinales Chori, an office not found in any other church in England. The chantry priests, a large body of men, were bound not only to say mass at the special altars to which they were attached, but also to attend in choir, and perform there such duties as were assigned to them.

Chaucer alludes to the eagerness with which some of the country clergy, to the neglect of their own benefices, fought for chantries in St. Paul’s. He contrasts with them his model parish priest.

“He sette not his benefice to hire,
And let his sheep accombred in the mire
And ran to London, unto S. Paules,
To seken him a chanterie for soules,
Or with a Brotherhede to be withhold;
But dwelt at home, and kepte well his folde.
So that the wolfe ne made it not miscarry.
He was a shepherd, and no mercenary.”It is impossible to estimate the number of persons who lived within the Cathedral Close, and were connected with its establishment. Besides the minor officers such as the almoner, vergers, surveyor, scribes, bookbinder, brewer, baker, &c., there were the chaplain and household of the Bishop, the higher officials already enumerated, the choir-boys, the bedesmen and poor, and a host of others.

The baker’s task was no sinecure. It is calculated that the yearly issue of bread amounted to no less than forty thousand loaves. The weight and quality of the loaves, varying according to the rank of the persons supplied, were matters of sufficient importance to be regulated by statute.

With such an ample staff, we may naturally expect that the religious life of the Cathedral exhibited a busy scene. Seven times a day the bells of the Cathedral sounded for the canonical hours. Nocturns or Matins was a service before day-break; Lauds, a service at day-break, quickly following, or even joining Matins; Prime, a late morning service at six o’clock; Tirce, at nine o’clock; Sexts, at noon; Nones, at three o’clock in the afternoon; Vespers, an evening service; and Compline, a late evening service, at bed-time. In 1263, it was ordered that Vespers and Compline should be said together.

Besides a very ample supply of vestments, sacred vessels, relics, and ornaments, old St. Paul’s possessed a fine store of service-books. The greatest treasures were probably the codices or manuscripts of the Gospels. Of these no less than eleven are mentioned in the inventory of the Visitation in 1295, some written in the very large letters of the Saxon period. The ritual books included many fine examples of psalters, antiphonals, books of homilies, missals, manuals, graduals, &c., all beautifully, and even gorgeously bound. The scriptorium of the Cathedral was an important department, and was ably governed. Here were prepared, not only the service-books needed for the church, but the cathedral statutes. The Pauline scribes wrote a bold, clear hand. The inks, both red and black, retain their full lustre, as may be seen by the beautiful examples remaining at the Cathedral Library.

Vestments, plate, and, unfortunately, books also have all disappeared. The loss of the latter is irreparable. Like Sarum, York, and Hereford, St. Paul’s had a “Use” of its own, and of this Use, unfortunately, no example is extant. In 1415, Bishop Clifford, with the consent of the Dean and Chapter, decreed that the Divine Office in St. Paul’s should henceforth be conformable to that of the Church of Salisbury.

The feast days were numerous. Those of the first class included two feasts of St. Erkenwald and the two feasts of St. Paul. On these days the bells were rung two and two before the peal was sounded; on ordinary days they were sounded singly. It will be seen that there was thus an unceasing round of services, extending almost through day and night.

The ordinary daily services were supplemented still further by occasional services. There were the pilgrims to the shrines of Erkenwald and Mellitus; and a short form of prayer, with a hymn, which appears to have been used on these occasions, was printed by the late Dr. Sparrow Simpson, Sub-Dean. An extraordinary instance of this devotion occurred in 1322, when Thomas, earl of Lancaster, grandson of Henry III., and cousin of Edward II., who was then king, was taken captive after his defeat at the battle of Boroughbridge. Six days afterwards he was tried, condemned, and beheaded in his own Castle of Pomfret by a court of peers, with Edward himself at their head. He was sentenced as a rebel taken in arms against the King, and his whole life-record was that of an unscrupulous, treacherous, and selfish man. Yet, owing perhaps to his kindness to the poor and bountiful patronage of the clergy, his fame grew after his death. Miracles were said to have been wrought at his tomb and at a tablet in St. Paul’s, erected to commemorate him.

The people prayed for his canonisation, and thronged to the Cathedral to pay their devotion to this saint of their own making. Leaden brooches, representing a knight holding a battle-axe, have been found in London, and were probably tokens given to pilgrims who had visited the tablet. The practice of distributing signs to pilgrims visiting the shrines of saints was a very common one from early times down to the Reformation period. These pilgrim signs, or signacula, were often worn by pilgrims in their hats as a sign of distinction, and a certain flavour of holiness attached to the wearer, who had braved what in those days were the real perils of a long and painful journey on foot to accomplish his pious purpose.

A similar practice, as is well known, prevails in the Mohammedan world, where a pilgrim to Mecca, the prophet’s birthplace, receives the honourable title of Hadji. The form of the signs varied greatly, and was generally a representation of the saint or his emblem. Many were issued at the shrine of St. Thomas at Canterbury, the Canterbury Bell being a frequent device; St. James of Compostella was represented by an escallop shell, and so on. The objects, which were small, and seldom much larger than a brooch, have been found in large quantities along the banks of the Thames, where the mud appears to have had a preserving influence upon the bronze of which they are made. We can well imagine the joyous return of Chaucer’s Canterbury Pilgrims, each wearing a pilgrim’s sign, when their long journey was completed.

Another curious service at the Cathedral was the mock investiture of the Boy Bishop on Holy Innocents’ Day or Childermas, as it was formerly called. On the Eve of St. Nicholas, the special patron of children (December 6th is his festival), the children of the choir elected one of their number to be the Boy Bishop. At St. Paul’s he was arrayed in pontifical vestments with a rich pastoral staff and a white embroidered mitre. On St. John’s Day, after evensong, the Boy Bishop, with his clerks, officiated at a service; occupying the upper canons’ stalls, whilst these dignitaries themselves served in the boys’ places as acolytes, thurifers, and lower clerks.

The next day, the Feast of the Holy Innocents, the Boy Bishop preached a sermon. Two of these sermons have been preserved, and printed by the Camden Society. The foolish and profane rites were sanctioned by so eminent a man as Dean Colet, and formed the subject of regulations drawn up so early as 1263 for the performance of this function at St. Paul’s.

A brief description of old St. Paul’s, the finest in many respects of our English cathedrals, must now be attempted. Crossing the unsavoury Fleet and ascending Ludgate Hill, the Londoner passed first through Ludgate a little west of St. Martin’s Church, and reached the great western gate of the Close spanning the street near the ends of Creed Lane and Ave Maria Lane. The cathedral stood within a spacious walled enclosure. The wall was built in 1109, and greatly strengthened in 1285, and extended from the north-east corner of Ave Maria Lane, running eastward along Paternoster Row to the north end of Old Change in Cheapside, thence southward to Carter Lane, and on the north of Carter Lane to Creed Lane, back to the great western gate.

Besides this principal entrance, the enclosure had five other gates or posterns. Entering at the western gate, the little church of St. Gregory is seen nestling close to the cathedral on its southern side. The church seems insignificant, and helps to show us the vastness of the cathedral, just as St. Margaret’s Church brings out by contrast the magnificent proportions of Westminster Abbey.

The western front was flanked by two towers, the northern of which was closely attached to the Bishop’s palace; the southern, commonly called the Lollards’ Tower, was used by the Bishop as a prison for heretics. The most prominent feature was the spire, which rose from the centre of the roof to a prodigious height, 493 feet in all. The Bishop’s palace was at the north-west end of the nave. Passing beyond it and its grounds, you arrived at Pardon Church Haugh. This was a goodly cloister, wherein were buried many persons of note, whose monuments surpassed those of the Cathedral itself in number and curious workmanship. The chief feature of the building was the striking series of paintings on the cloister walls, representing the Dance of Death, and beneath them a metrical description of the allegorical design, translated from the French by John Lydgate, a monk of Bury St. Edmunds, and the author of the curious poem, “London Lickpenny.” Within the cloister was a chapel founded by Gilbert À Becket, the father of the famous St. Thomas. Cloister, chapel, monuments, and paintings were all swept away by the ruthless hand of the Protector Somerset to find materials for his palace in the Strand.

North of the cathedral was the college of the minor canons, and east of it Canon Alley. Between the two was Walter Sherrington’s Chapel, and further east, beyond Canon Alley, was the Charnel Chapel. This old building was also pulled down by Somerset, and the bones removed from the crypt beneath taken, in a thousand cart-loads, to Finsbury Fields. The soil required to cover them raised the ground sufficiently for three windmills to stand on. The windmills are seen in Aggas’ map of London, and Windmill Street, Finsbury, now marks the site, as the name “Bunhill Fields” perpetuates the ghastly Bone Hill.

At the north-east angle of the choir was the famous Paul’s Cross. In passing the east end of the church might be seen the magnificent Rose window, one of the very finest in all England. In the clochier or bell-tower was the bell which summoned the citizens of London to the Folkmote held close beside it. Turning westward along the south side of the close, the traveller passed the Chapter House, with its high-pitched roof, the house of the Chancellor, and Paul’s Chain, with its many fair tenements, and close adjoining Paul’s brewhouse and Paul’s bakehouse. To the west lay the Deanery, an ancient house, given to the church by the famous Dean and historian, Ralph de Diceto. At the west end, also, were the houses of the canons, vicars, and many other officials.

The interior of the cathedral was no less beautiful. The immense length of the building from east to west, through choir and nave, was very striking. Some remains of the foundation of the old building may still be seen on the south side of the present cathedral.

In the pre-Reformation services no place was found for preaching; when provision was made for the delivery of sermons, it was by the appointment of a special preacher—in later times known as lecturer—this being no part of the duty of the regular clergy. As early as 1281, Richard de Swinefield, archdeacon of London, and afterwards Bishop of Hereford, was appointed preacher of the cathedral. A few years later, Bishop Richard de Gravesend appointed a divinity lecturer, and Ralph de Baldock endowed the office in the second year of Edward II.

The two great centres of preaching were Paul’s Cross and the Spital; the former was used also—and, perhaps, frequently—as a platform for exerting political influence. Here Dr. Shaw, the brother of Sir John Shaw or Shaa, Lord Mayor, harangued the multitude in support of Richard the Third’s claims to succeed to the Crown, whilst the Duke of Buckingham, Richard’s trusted adherent, appealed on the Protector’s behalf to the chief citizens assembled at Guildhall.

The Jews had a troubled time in London, as in other parts of the country, being exposed to constant extortion by the Sovereign and his ministers. Their principal quarter was in the neighbourhood of the present churches of St. Olave and St. Lawrence Jewry. The thoroughfare of the Old Jewry appears from Mr. Joseph Jacob’s investigations to have been deserted by them prior even to their expulsion from the realm by Edward I. in the year 1291.

Besides the magnificent churches forming part of the monastic establishments, examples of which fortunately remain to us in the churches of St. Bartholomew, Smithfield, St. Saviour’s, Southwark, and the Dutch Church, Austin Friars, the parish churches of the old city were numerous and important. From the inventories of their possessions prepared at the Dissolution, and preserved among the records of the Augmentation Office, it would seem that in the number of their chantries and the richness and extent of their vestments and service books, some of the larger parish churches could almost vie with the Cathedral itself. Although shorn of their magnificence by the legislation of the Reformation period, and the cruel devastation of the Great Fire, the few buildings which escaped the latter catastrophe bear evidence of their former grandeur. The most interesting of them are St. Helen’s, Bishopsgate, with its fine monuments; All Hallows, Barking; St. Olave, Hart Street; and St. Giles, Cripplegate. The large number of the city churches is accounted for by the obligation of each parishioner not only to regularly attend the services at his own parish church, but to ensure the attendance also of his wife and household, apprentices and journeymen. A corresponding obligation rested upon the parish officers to provide a pew or other accommodation for each parishioner in his own parish church. In the smaller parishes situated in the heart of the city this was easy enough, but in border parishes like those of St. Botolph, Bishopsgate, and St. Giles, Cripplegate, it must always have been a difficulty to provide for the large populations which such parishes contained.

There is one very important building of which we have scarcely as yet made mention, for it lies outside London City, the residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury at Lambeth. We call it now “Lambeth Palace,” but the title is of recent date—not older, indeed, than the earlier part of the nineteenth century. Up to that date its occupants dated their letters from “Lambeth House” or “Lambeth Manor.” In old times the title Palace was only given to a bishop’s residence within his own cathedral city. The Bishop of London’s Palace was in St. Paul’s Churchyard; his residence at Fulham was his “house.”

Lambeth (== Loamhythe, i.e., “muddy bank”) had been in Saxon days a royal manor. Edward the Confessor’s sister gave it to the See of Rochester; it came back for a short time to the Crown after the Conquest, but was restored to the Prior and Convent of Rochester by Rufus, and was transferred to Canterbury under the following circumstances.

There had been continual rivalry between the Cathedral Church of Canterbury and the Monastery of St. Augustine. The latter had asserted high rights, and had more than once claimed that of electing the Primate. More than one Archbishop, chafing at all this, determined to have a Chapter of secular canons of his own, and so be independent of the Monks. But the latter so steadfastly resisted this that it was not until 1197 that Archbishop Hubert Walter carried his point by exchanging the Manor of Darenth which he held for that of Lambeth. Darenth was nearer Rochester, and therefore more convenient for that See. Situated, as Lambeth was, immediately opposite the Royal Palace of Westminster, the Archbishop became at once the stay of the Court, and also a check upon any attempt at tyranny—a position which was strongly recognised on more than one occasion. This was really the establishment in fact, of what had been little more than theory before, the Primacy of the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Of the early buildings little is known. The oldest part now existing is the crypt, but this is not older than the early part of the thirteenth century. The present beautiful chapel was built over it by the roystering young Archbishop Boniface, uncle of King Henry the Third’s wife, Eleanor. He had roused the wrath of the Londoners by forcing his way into St. Paul’s Cathedral and claiming all sorts of uncanonical authority over the clergy there, winding up by beating the Prior of St. Bartholomew’s unmercifully with his fists. In the result he built the Chapel of Lambeth as an amend, and it is certainly one of the most beautiful examples of Early English architecture in England. Lambeth House has undergone a vast number of changes. The great entrance gateway was built by Cardinal Morton (1486), the two northern towers by Cranmer, and the long corridor by Cardinal Pole. Later than the period with which we are concerned, Juxon built the present library, and Archbishop Howley almost rebuilt the garden front.

The so-called Lollards’ tower is a misnomer. The building bearing that name in Lollard days was at St. Paul’s, though it is probable enough that some of them were confined at Lambeth. But the deeply interesting inscriptions which may be read on the Lambeth walls were mostly, if not all, cut by prisoners confined here during the Puritan wars. There is one strangely pathetic memorial, immediately opposite the door in the picture. It consists of a number of holes pricked in the wainscot beside a window looking north. Minute examination reveals that some poor creature occupied his lonely hours by pricking out a rough plan of the Great Bear and the surrounding constellations as he saw them from the window.