Good Dean Colet—Accession of Henry VIII.—Papal Favour—Cardinal Wolsey at St. Paul's—Bishop Fisher's Preaching at Paul's Cross—Fall of Wolsey—Alienation of the King from the Pope—The English Bible in the Cathedral—Edward VI.—Ridley's Strong Protest against the Images—Progress of the Reformed Doctrines—Somerset's Evil Deeds—Destruction of the Cloisters—Re-establishment of the Roman Mass under Mary—Cardinal Pole at St. Paul's—The Lord Mayor's Proclamation—Alienation of the Nation from Romanism—Death of Mary and Accession of Elizabeth—The Reformed Liturgy Restored—Growth of Puritanism—Destruction of the Steeple by Lightning—Continued Irreverence—Retrospect, the Tudor Monuments.
It seems fitting that we should open the chapter of a new era in the history of St. Paul's with the name of its most famous Dean, a great, wise, good man. His name was John Colet. He was born in London, in the year 1466, within three months of his famous friend, Erasmus. His father, Sir Henry Colet, was twice Lord Mayor, one of the richest members of the Mercers' Company. John, who was his eldest son, had ten brothers and eleven sisters, all by the same mother, who outlived the last of them. The young man was presented to livings (it was no unusual thing then) before he took Orders, and gave himself to study, both mathematical and classical, and in his zeal for learning travelled much abroad, where he saw much of ecclesiastical life, which startled him greatly. Returning, at length, to England, he was ordained at Christmas, 1497, went to Oxford, and began to lecture with great power on the Epistle to the Romans. It must be remembered that this was the epoch when the fall of Constantinople had driven the Greek scholars westward, the epoch of the revival of "the new learning" in Europe, the discrediting of the old scholastic philosophy which was now worn out and ready to vanish away. Colet stands before us then as the representative of the new learning in England, and as keen to reform the abuses in[page 38] the Church which were terrifying all earnest and thoughtful men. He carried on his lectures with such energy that his lecture-room was crowded, the most distinguished tutors there being among his audience. And one day there came the great Erasmus, who had heard of him, and from the day of their first meeting they were fast friends for life. In 1504, Henry VII. made Colet Dean of St. Paul's, and he showed at once that he had lost none of his zeal. He carried on his lectures in the cathedral and preached constantly, and another warm friend made now was Sir Thomas More, who earnestly helped him in his strenuous endeavours to improve the cathedral statutes, to reform abuses, and to increase the preaching power. He was a rich man, and in 1509 he employed much of his wealth—about £40,000 present value—in the foundation of St. Paul's School. He wrote some simple precepts for the guidance of masters and scholars, and drew up prayers and an English version of the Creed. He appointed William Lilly first master, and called on Linacre to write a Latin grammar. The school became famous; it was burnt down in the Fire, rebuilt in 1670, and removed to Hammersmith in 1884. It is not to be wondered at that many of the churchmen of the day regarded Colet as a most dangerous innovator. Complaints were made to Archbishop Warham that he was favouring the Lollards, which was absolutely untrue. He would in all probability, had he lived, have been found on the same side as More and Fisher, that is, intensely desirous to preserve the Church and its doctrines, but to cleanse it from the foul scandals, the sloth, greed, immorality, which were patent to all the world. There was a meeting of Convocation in February, 1512, to consider how to extirpate the Lollard heresy which was reviving. Warham appointed Colet to preach the sermon, which he did with wonderful energy, denouncing the simony, the self-indulgence, and the ignorance of the bishops and clergy. The Lollards were there in great numbers, attentive, silent listeners. He was as plain and honest with the King himself, who, recognising his goodness of purpose, made him a Royal Chaplain. In 1514, he went with Erasmus on pilgrimage to Becket's tomb and ridiculed the accounts which the vergers gave of the healing power of the relics. When Wolsey was installed as Cardinal, Colet preached, and warned him[page 39] against worldly ambition. And all through his time at St. Paul's the aged Bishop Fitzhugh was in active hostility to him. He died September 16th, 1519, and, although he had requested that only his name should be inscribed on his grave, the Mercers' Company erected a handsome tomb, for which Lilly wrote a long inscription. Lilly and Linacre were both buried near him.
It will be seen, I think, at once that Colet is a great representative of the thoughtful and earnest men of his time, one of the greatest precursors of the Reformers, or rather, in full sense, a great reformer himself. We have now to take up the course of secular events. In 1514, Pope Leo X. sent young King Henry VIII. a "sword and cap of maintenance" as a special honour, and he, "in robe of purple, satin, and gold in chequer, and jewelled collar," came to the Bishop's palace, and from thence there was a grand procession of gorgeously-arrayed nobles and clerics round the church, with joyous hymns.
Four years later came Wolsey, and sang High Mass to celebrate eternal peace between England, France, and Spain. The King's beautiful sister, Mary, was betrothed at the same time to Louis XII., who was fifty-three years old, while she was sixteen. Within three months he died, and she married Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, and became grandmother of Lady Jane Grey. Again one comes on a full description of the gorgeous ceremonial. A year later, the accession of Charles V. was announced by the Heralds in St. Paul's, and Wolsey pronounced a benediction. The great Cardinal was now in full hopes of the papal tiara; the same year he came in state (May 12th, 1521) with the Archbishop of Canterbury, Warham, to hear Bishop Fisher denounce Luther at Paul's Cross, with accompanying appropriate ceremonies. An account on a broad-sheet in the British Museum tells how Wolsey came with the most part of the bishops of the realm, "where he was received with procession and censed by Mr. Richard Pace, Dean of the said church." Pace was a native of Winchester, who had won the favour of two successive bishops of that See, and been educated by them. One of them sent him to the Continent to complete his course. He took Orders in 1510, and his evident ability induced Wolsey to employ[page 40] him in more than one delicate and difficult case of foreign diplomacy, and also brought him to the favourable notice of the King, who, after many other preferments, made him Dean of St. Paul's on the death of Colet. He was held to be the very ablest of diplomatists, was a friend of Erasmus, and followed Colet in favouring "the new learning." It was he and Sir T. More who persuaded the King to found Greek professorships at Oxford and Cambridge.
But to return to the ceremony at St. Paul's. "After the Dean had duly censed him, the Cardinal, while four doctors bore a canopy of gold over him, went to the high altar, where he made his obligation; which done, he went, as before, to the Cross in the churchyard, where was a scaffold set up. On this he seated himself under his cloth of estate, his two crosses on each side of him; on his right hand, sitting on the place where he set his feet, the Pope's ambassador, and next him the Archbishop of Canterbury; on his left hand, the Emperor's ambassador, and next him the Bishop of Durham (Rusthall); and all the other bishops, with other noble prelates, sat on two forms out right forth, and then the Bishop of Rochester made a sermon by the consenting of the whole clergy of England, by the commandment of the Pope, against one Martinus Eleutherus and all his works, because he erred sore, and spake against the Holy Faith; and denounced them accursed which kept any of his books; and there were many burned in the said churchyard of his said books during the sermon. Which ended, my Lord Cardinal went home to dinner with all the other prelates."
The Bishop of Rochester was, of course, Fisher. He was both learned and pious. Burnet says he strongly disliked Wolsey, because of the latter's notoriously immoral life. Fisher, though in his unflinching conservatism he regarded the proceedings of Luther with hostility, was anxious, as were More and Erasmus and Colet, for reformation on Catholic lines. He, like them, favoured the new learning, and even declared that the Continental reformers had brought much light to bear upon religion. But he opposed the King's divorce, and refused to acknowledge his supremacy over the Church, and was beheaded on Tower Hill, June 22nd, 1535. There was[page 41] no act of Henry which more thoroughly excited popular horror.
When Charles V. came to England, in 1522, Wolsey again said Mass at St. Paul's, with twenty bishops to cense him. It was on this occasion that he changed the meeting-place of Convocation from St. Paul's to Westminster, that it might be near his own house. Skelton, the poet, who hated Wolsey, thereupon wrote the following distich:—
"Gentle Paul, lay down thy sword,
For Peter, of Westminster, hath shaven thy beard."
In 1524, Francis I. was taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia, whereupon the sympathy of England for his successful rival was shown by a huge bonfire in front of St. Paul's, and the distribution of many hogsheads of claret. On the Sunday following, Wolsey sang Mass, and the King and Queen, with both Houses of Parliament, were present. Once more (Shrove Tuesday, 1527) the great Cardinal came in dignity; it was to denounce the translation of the Bible and to condemn the Lutherans. Certain "heretics" were marched through the cathedral in penitential dresses, and carrying faggots, which they threw into the fire by the great rood at the north door, in which Testaments and Lutheran tracts were also burned. On this occasion, also, Fisher preached the sermon. A few years later (1530), there was a similar holocaust, at which the Bishop (Stokesley) presided.
But now came an event of momentous importance. Wolsey fell into disgrace with the King, and, after some preliminary attacks, was charged with high treason. From trial on this charge he was delivered by death (November 28th, 1530). But he had brought the clergy unwittingly into trouble. The law of Præmunire forbade a man to accept the office of papal legate in England, or the clergy to recognise him. Wolsey had obtained a patent under the Great Seal to exercise legatine authority, and for fifteen years no objection had been taken. When he was indicted for the infringement of the law, he refused to plead royal permission, fearing to incur yet greater displeasure of the King. So judgment went by default. And now the clergy were likewise impeached. They met in St. Paul's Chapter[page 42] House, and in their terror offered £100,000 fine, under the advice of the Bishop. The King refused to accept this unless they recognised him as "supreme head of the Church." Three days' discussion of this proposition followed, then, on the proposal of Archbishop Warham, they agreed to the following:—"of which Church and clergy we acknowledge his Majesty to be the chief protector, the only supreme lord, and, as far as the law of Christ will allow, the supreme head." Such a compromise meant nothing, for it did not attempt to define what the law of Christ on the subject was. But it was evident that the Reformation had begun in earnest. Though nineteen Anabaptists were condemned in St. Paul's to be burned, and on fourteen of them the sentence was carried out, Paul's Cross echoed with renunciation of the Pope's authority. The miraculous rood of Bexley, in Kent, having been exposed as a fraud there, was brought up to Paul's Cross, February, 1538, and the mechanism having been shown to the indignant audience, it was committed to the flames.
A more significant indication of the coming change was witnessed in 1541. In May of the previous year, King Henry issued a proclamation that every parish in England should provide itself with a copy of the English Bible by All-hallow-tide next, under a penalty of 40s. He explains that the object is that "the power, wisdom, and goodness of God may be perceived hereby," but the people are not to expound it, nor to read it while Mass is going on, but are to "read it meekly, humbly, and reverently for their instruction, edification, and amendment." Accordingly, Bishop Bonner had six of these great Bibles chained to pillars in different parts of St. Paul's, as well as an "advertisement" fixed at the same places, "admonishing all that came thither to read that they should lay aside vain-glory, hypocrisy, and all other corrupt affections, and bring with them discretion, good intention, charity, reverence, and a quiet behaviour, for the edification of their own souls; but not to draw multitudes about them, nor to make exposition of what they read, nor to read aloud in time of divine service, nor enter into disputes concerning it."
There was no mistake as to the eagerness of the people to take advantage of the opportunity. They assembled in crowds to hear[page 43] such as could read, and even, so says Burnet, sent their children to school that they might carry them with them and hear them read.
It is not to be wondered at that Bonner soon found that his Advertisement was powerless to check what he dreaded. Not only did expounders dwell upon such words as "Drink ye all of it," but they compared the clergy to the Scribes and Pharisees, and identified them with the generation of vipers, and with priests of Baal. Accordingly, he put forth a fresh advertisement, in which he said that "diverse, wilful, and unlearned persons, contrary to all good order and honest behaviour, have read the Scriptures especially and chiefly at the time of divine service in this right honourable Catholic church, yea, in the time of the sermon and declaration of the Word of God, in such sort as was both to the evil and lewd example of the rest of the multitude, and also to the high dishonour of the Word of God, over and beside the great disturbance and unquietness of the people repairing hither for honest purposes." And he declares that if this friendly admonition be not attended to he will have the Bibles removed, but that he shall do so very unwillingly, seeing that he "will be, by God's grace, right glad that the Scripture and Word of God should be well known."
There is a painful story in "Foxe's Martyrs," that one John Porter was thrown into Newgate by Bonner for thus "expounding," and that he died there of the ill-treatment he received.
In the short reign of Edward VI., great destruction was wrought in the structure and ornamentation of St. Paul's, and no thanks are due to the "Protector" that the mischief was not greater. There was no sign for a month or two. Edward ascended the throne on January 28, 1547, and just two months later the French king, Francis I., died. On that occasion, Cranmer, attended by eight bishops, sang a Requiem Mass in Latin at St. Paul's, and Gardiner preached a funeral sermon before the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, eulogising this persecutor of the Reformed Faith. But now came unmistakable signs of change. Ridley, then Master of Pembroke College, Cambridge, soon to be Bishop of London, preached a somewhat violent sermon at Paul's Cross against the adoration of saints, the use of holy water, and the reverence done to pictures[page 44] and images. We may note that on the day of the King's Coronation, amid all the splendid pageantry and decorations, a cable was fastened to the top of St. Paul's steeple, the other end attached to an anchor by the Deanery door, and a sailor descended "swift as an arrow from the bow."
It was in September following that the order from the Council commanded the destruction of images in churches and the discontinuance of all processions. The Bishop, Bonner, protested against the alterations and was sent to the Fleet for contumacy, made submission, and was released after eight days, during which the alterations were made. The images were all pulled down, as were the rood, the crucifix, and its attendants, St. Mary and St. John.
The "Grey Friars Chronicle"1 (published by the Camden Society), describes all this, and takes care to note that two of the men engaged in the sacrilegious work were killed. The almsboxes shared the general confiscation, and doubtless not only the services of the church, but the poor who came for food, suffered thereby.
Protector Somerset had wide ideas. He aspired to build himself a magnificent palace and to attach a park to it along the banks of the Thames. The palace was on the site of the present Somerset House; the park was to extend from it to St. Paul's. The cloister and chapel in Pardon Churchyard were destroyed, and five hundred tons of bones were carted away to Finsbury Fields (it is said there were more than a thousand cartloads) and piled up into a mound, which got the name of the "Bone Hill," and this has come in our day to "Bunhill." On this hill three windmills were erected. The mound has long since been trodden down, and the windmills are gone, but the name "Windmill Street" remains. The chapter house and the small cloister round it, of which we have already spoken, were also destroyed, and the materials were used for the new Somerset House. Within the last few years the bases of parts of this cloister have been uncovered under the skilful supervision of Mr. Penrose, and may be seen on the south side of the present cathedral.
As our subject is only the cathedral itself, we pass by the[page 45] controversies and changes in creed and practice which the reign of Edward VI. witnessed. The Protector Somerset fell the victim of his own inordinate covetousness, and died on the scaffold, January 22nd, 1552, to the great satisfaction of the "Grey Friar" chronicler. But the Reformation went on; Bonner was imprisoned all through the reign, Ridley was made Bishop of London (1550), and the sacrament was administered according to the Reformed use. Rood-loft, altars, crucifixes, images, all disappeared. The Dean, William May, gave orders for the removal of the organ, but they were not carried out. It pealed out the Te Deum on the accession of Mary, July 6th, 1553. The nation certainly rejoiced at this change. Not merely the rapacity of the ruling powers at court had alienated public sympathy, but the people at large at this time resented the loss of their ancient worship, and had not as yet learned the greater spirituality and reality of the Reformed service. We may note that in the exuberance of popular delight in London whilst the cathedral bells were ringing, a Dutchman went to the very top of the lofty steeple, waved a flag, and kindled a blaze of torches.
But a fierce contest was inevitable. Paul's Cross for a little while gave forth most conflicting views. Before the year was out the mass was re-established in St. Paul's. On St. Catharine's Day there were splendid processions and stately ceremonial, with special thought of the Queen's mother, Catharine of Aragon. In a word, it was in St. Paul's Cathedral that the recovery of Roman Catholicism was specially manifested in England. William May was deprived of the Deanery, he being a hearty supporter of the Reformed doctrines, and Feckenham succeeded him, but in 1556 was made Abbot of Westminster. He was so holy and kindly a man that he won great respect, though he was an uncompromising Papist. He is said to have so exerted himself with Queen Mary to procure the liberation of her sister Elizabeth as to offend the Queen, and it is further said (Fuller) that Elizabeth on her accession sent for him and offered him the Archbishopric of Canterbury if he would conform to the Reformed Faith. He refused, and was deprived, and went into retirement, and at St. Paul's May was restored to the Deanery.
At the time of his deprivation, as I have said, St. Paul's at once[page 46] furnished proof of the restoration of the Roman faith. The great rood was set up with stately ceremonial, in preparation for the visit of the Queen and her husband, Philip of Spain, they having been married at Winchester, July 29th, 1554. On their state visit to St. Paul's, September 30th following, the greatest congregation that had ever yet assembled there was gathered to see them. But as great, so says Machyn2, assembled again on the first Sunday in Advent to receive Cardinal Pole as Papal Legate. Three days before, on the Feast of St. Andrew, he had absolved England at Westminster Hall, and received it back to Communion. Now, having landed at Baynard's Castle Wharf, he was conducted by the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, Lord Chancellor and Bishops, all in splendid procession, followed by a retinue of nobles and knights, with the legate's cross carried before him, King Philip and Queen Mary walking by his side on the right hand and the left. Gardiner preached at Paul's Cross, the first part penitent, the latter exultant, and ending with the words, "Verily this is the great day of the Lord."
Of one passage in the history of this time we can speak with unqualified approval. On August 5th, 1554, the Lord Mayor (White) issued the following Proclamation:—
"Forasmuch as the material temples or churches of God were first ordained and instituted and made in all places for the lawful and devout assembly of the people there to lift up their hearts and to laud and praise Almighty God and to hear His Divine Service and most holy Word and Gospel sincerely said, sung, and taught, and not to be used as market places or other profane places, or common thoroughfares with carriage of things; and that now of late years many of the inhabitants of this City of London, and other people repairing to the same, have and yet do commonly use and accustom themselves very unseemly and unreverently; the more is the pity to make the common carriage of great vessels full of ale and beer, great baskets full of bread, fish, fruit, and such other things, fardels [bundles] of stuff and other gross wares through the Cathedral[page 47] Church of St. Paul within the said City of London, and some in leading of horses, mules, or other beasts through the same unreverently, to the great dishonour and displeasure of Almighty God, and the great grief also and offence of all good and well-disposed persons. Be it therefore for remedy and reformation thereof ordained, enacted, and established by the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Commons in this present Common Council assembled and by the authority of the same, according to the privileges and customs of this ancient city that no manner of person or persons, either free of the said city or foreign, of what estate, condition, or degree soever he or they be, do at any time from henceforth carry, or convey, or cause to be conveyed or carried through the said Cathedral Church of St. Paul any manner of great vessel or vessels, basket or baskets, with bread, ale, beer, flesh, fruit, fish, fardells of stuff, wood billets, faggots, mule, horse, or other beasts, or any other like thing or things, upon pain of forfeiture and losing for every such his or their offence iiis. iiijd., and for the second like offence vis. viijd., and for the third offence xs., and for every other offence after such third time to forfeit and lose like sum, and to suffer imprisonment by the space of two whole days and nights without bail or mainprise. The one moiety of all which pains and penalties shall be to the use of the poor called Christ's Hospital within Newgate for the time being, and the other moiety thereof shall be to the use of him or them that will sue for the same in any Court of Record within same City by bill, original plaint, or information, to be commenced and sued in the name of the chamberlains of the said city for the time being, wherein none essoyne [exemption] or wages of law for the defendants shall be admitted or allowed.
"God save the King and Queen."
(Guildhall Records.)
We have had the grand ceremonial at the Reconciliation to Rome. Another procession—oh! the pity of it—was held on St. Paul's Day, 1550, of 160 priests, with Bishop Bonner at the head, singing their thanksgiving that the Queen was about to become a mother, and on the following April 30th, came the report that a prince was born. Again the bells rang out, and solemn Te Deum was sung! Machyn tells of the disappointment which followed, and expresses his hope for[page 48] the future, hope not to be fulfilled.
What was it turned the tide of religious opinion? The answer admits of no doubt. John Rogers, the proto-martyr of the English Reformation, was a prebendary of St. Paul's, a man of saintly life. He had given much help to Tyndale, the translator of the Bible, had brought the MS. to England, and published it. He was sentenced to be burned only three days after the reception of Pole, and died with dauntless courage, even his wife and children encouraging him. In the following October, his Bishop and patron, Ridley, also died the same fiery death. Machyn records, with apparent callousness, the burnings which went on in Smithfield day after day, along with trifling incidents and stately ceremonials at St. Paul's. He does not realise that these things were horrifying the English people, and turning their hearts steadfastly to the persecuted faith. The greater number of the martyr fires took place in London, and St. Paul's was the place of trial. On the 13th of November, 1558, the Queen issued a brief to Bonner, giving him command to burn heretics without mercy, and four days later she died, as, on the same day, did Cardinal Pole.
The heart of England was alienated from a religion which had resorted to such brutalities, and the doctrines of the Reformation were everywhere received. Queen Elizabeth, however, would not be incautious. There was no immediate interference with the Marian ceremonial. There was a solemn Requiem Mass sung at St. Paul's after the death of Henry II. of France, July, 1559, but by this time the restored images had again been removed. One day, when she came to St. Paul's, Dean Nowell placed in her pew a prayer-book richly illuminated with German scriptural engravings. She was very angry, and demanded to know who had placed "this idolatrous book" on her cushion. The poor Dean explained, and her Majesty was satisfied, but "prayed God to give him more wisdom for the future." She expressed her satisfaction that the pictures were German and not English. Some years later the same Dean offended her in the opposite direction. It was on Ash Wednesday, 1572; he was preaching before her, and denounced certain "Popish superstitions," among them the use of the sign of the Cross. Her Majesty called out to him sternly to "stick to his [page 49] text." The next day he sent her a humble apology.
Paul's Cross was silent for some months; when at length it was again occupied the Reformed faith was reasserted. Bonner was sent to the Tower, and the English Communion service was again in use. In the following August, the Queen's Commissioners held a Visitation in St. Paul's, at which all who refused to conform with it were pronounced contumacious and deprived. The rood was again turned out, as were the images, and now it was with the approval of the people at large. In many places there was much violence displayed in the destruction, but not in St. Paul's. All was done there without tumult, and with discrimination. On December 17th, 1559, Parker was consecrated Archbishop at Lambeth, and four days later he consecrated Grindal Bishop of London. Bonner was sent to the Marshalsea Prison, which Strype declares was done to screen him from the popular detestation. He was well fed and housed there, and had "much enjoyment of his garden and orchards," until his death in 1569.
Grindal had been warmly attached to Ridley, and still loved his memory dearly. Moreover, he had himself been an exile for his opinions. He was not, therefore, likely to look favourably upon the old ceremonial, even in its modified form of stately solemnity and grace, such as Tallis and Merbecke would have preserved to it. And his Dean, Nowell, had the same distrust. Had they favoured it, in all probability the moderate and beautiful rendering of the Liturgy, as it is heard in the cathedral in our day, would not only have won the affections of the people at large, but would have arrested the strong tide of Puritanism and iconoclasm which was now rising. In Convocation, the Puritans nearly carried the removal of all organs from churches. They lost it by a majority of one, and Dean Nowell was in the minority.
Whilst the controversy was at its fiercest, on the 3rd of June, 1561, a violent thunderstorm burst over London. The Church of St. Martin's, Ludgate, was struck by lightning, and great masses of stones came down upon the pavement. Whilst people were looking dismayed at this, the steeple of St. Paul's was discovered to be on fire. The timber framework had got ablaze, the lead which covered it poured[page 50] down like lava upon the roof, the very bells melted. For four hours the whole cathedral was in danger, but happily, with the exception of the roof of the nave, the church was saved. As soon as the flames were extinguished, Pilkington, whose works are published by the Parker Society, furiously declared that it was all owing to the retention of Popery, and the other side, with equal vigour, attributed the disaster to the desecration by the Puritans.3
The steeple was never rebuilt, but the nave roof was begun without loss of time. Queen Elizabeth sent letters to the Lord Mayor, commanding him to take immediate steps, gave him 1000 marks from her own purse, and warrants for 1000 loads of timber from her woods. £7000 were raised at once by the clergy and laymen of London, "very frankly, lovingly, and willingly," says the Guildhall record. Before a month had elapsed a temporary roof was made, and in five years the lead roof was complete.
The victory over the Armada, in 1588, sent all England wild with delight. The Queen came in State to offer thanks at St. Paul's, attended by all the nobility, and after the sermon dined with the Bishop in his palace.
But the signs of irreverence and neglect are continually before us. We have already given extracts from sermons denouncing it. It was now that the raising of money by Government lotteries began, for the purpose of repairing the harbours, and a great shed was set up at the west door of St. Paul's for the drawing (1569). In 1605, four of the Gunpowder conspirators were hanged in front of the west door, and in the following May, Garnet, the Jesuit priest, shared the same fate on the same spot.
Let us before closing this chapter take note of the monuments of four Deans not mentioned in our last survey. They are Thomas Wynterbourne (Dean 1471-1478), William Worsley (1479-1499), a fine brass. William May we have already spoken of, Dean under Edward VI., deprived by Mary, restored by Elizabeth, elected Archbishop of York, but died the same day, August 8th, 1560. There were twelve Latin lines on his grave. His successor, Alexander Nowell, who died in 1601 at the age of ninety, was a zealous promoter[page 51] of the Reformation. There was a fine monument to him, a bust in fur robe, and very long Latin inscriptions in prose and verse.
Before coming to the last chapter in the history of the great cathedral, a chapter of decay, of zealous attempts at restoration, of profanation, of one more attempt to restore, and of total destruction, it becomes necessary to take one more retrospect.