Chapter IV: Part 4

At this time, commenced a literary warfare, in the form of pamphlets, respecting the cross. These were followed by its destruction. Robert Harlow was deputed by Parliament to carry out the work. He went to the cross with a troop of horse and two companies of foot soldiers. How completely he executed his orders may be gathered from the official account. It states: "On the 2nd of May, 1643, the cross in Cheapside was pulled down. At the fall of the top cross, drums beat, trumpets blew, and multitudes of caps were thrown in the air, and a great shout of people with joy. The 2nd of May, the almanack says, was the invention of the cross, and the same day, at night, were the leaden popes burnt [they were not popes, but eminent English prelates] in the place where it stood, with ringing of bells and a great acclamation, and no hurt at all done in these actions."

The author of "The Old City" (London, 1865), a work to which we have been indebted for some of the particulars included in this paper, adverts to a curious tract published on the day the cross was destroyed. It bears the following title: "The Downfall of Dagon; or, the taking down of Cheapside Crosse; wherein is contained these principalls: 1. The crosse sicke at heart. 2. His death and funerall. 3. His will, legacies, inventory, and epitaph. 4. Why it was removed. 5. The money it will bring. 6. Noteworthy, that it was cast down on that day when it was first invented and set up." An extract or two from this publication can hardly fail to interest the reader. "I am called the 'Citie Idoll,'" says the tract, "the Brownists spit at me, and throw stones at me; the Famalists hide their eyes with their fingers; the Anabaptists wish me knockt in pieces, as I am to be this day; the sisters of the fraternity will not come near me, but go by Watling Street, and come in again by Soaper Lane, to buy provisions of the market folks.... I feele the pangs of death, and shall never see the end of the merry month of May; my breath stops--my life is gone; I feel myself a-dying downards." The bequests embrace the following: "I give my iron work to those which make good swords at Hounslow, for I am Spanish iron and steele to the backe. I give my body and stones to those masons that cannot telle how to frame the like againe, to keep by theme for a patterne, for in time there will be more crosses in London than ever there was yet." The epitaph is as follows:

"I looke for no praise when I am dead,
For, going the right way, I never did tread.
I was harde as an Alderman's doore,
That's shut and stony-hearted to the poore.
I never gave almes, nor did anything
Was good, nor e'er said, 'God save the King.'
I stood like a stock that was made of wood,
And yet the people would not say I was good,
And, if I tell them plaine, they're like to mee--
Like stone to all goodnesse. But now, reader, see
Me in the dust; for crosses must not stand,
There is too much crosse tricks within the land;
And, having so done never any good,
I leave my prayse for to be understood;
For many women, after this my losse,
Will remember me, and still will be crosse--
Crosse tricks, crosse ways, and crosse vanities.
Believe the crosse speaks truth, for here he lyes."

The Biddenden Maids Charity.

For several centuries, the strange story of the Biddenden Maids, was told by sire to son, and, in course of time, was made the subject of a broadside, which has become rare, and is much prized by collectors of historical curiosities.

The tale is to the effect that, in the year of our Lord, 1100, at the village of Biddenden, in the county of Kent, were born Eliza and Mary Chulkhurst, commonly called "The Biddenden Maids." It is asserted that the sisters were joined together by the hips and shoulders.

There is not a record of any attempt being made to separate the couple, and they grew up together. When they had attained the age of thirty-four years, one of the sisters was taken ill, and shortly afterwards died. The surviving one was entreated to submit to a surgical operation being performed, and have her body separated from that of her deceased sister, but she firmly refused. She was prepared to die. "As we came together," she said, "we will also go together." Her life closed about six hours after that of her sister.

The claims of the poor were not overlooked. The sisters, in their will, bequeathed to the churchwardens of the parish of Biddenden, a piece of land which is known as "Bread and Cheese Land."

The rent of it realises a considerable sum of money, which is largely distributed to the poor of the place in bread and cheese.

The memory of the wonderful women is maintained by the distribution, on Easter Sunday, of about a thousand small cakes made of flour and water, and having impressed upon them rude representations of the Maids.

Hone, in his "Every Day Book," gives a picture of the cake he received in 1826, which we reproduce. It is the exact size of the one sent to him. Since Hone's time a new stamp or mould has been made, and the old style of representing the Maids has not been followed in every detail. In the cut we give, it will be noticed no legs appear, now they are represented on the cakes.

In addition to the small cakes presented to strangers as well as villagers, every resident in the parish is entitled to a threepenny loaf and three quarters of a pound of cheese. The charity was formerly delivered at the tower door of the church, but since some alterations have been made in the building, the distribution takes place at the old workhouse. The congregation, on Easter Sunday afternoon, after which service the cakes are given, is always very large, many persons coming from the surrounding villages.

Halsted, the historian of Kent, discredits the traditional origin of the old custom. A similar story is related of two females, whose figures appear on the pavement of Norton St. Philip's Church, Somersetshire.

Plagues and Pestilences.

The graphic pages of Daniel Defoe have made the reader familiar with the terrible story of the Great Plague of London, which began in December, 1664, and carried off 68,596 persons, some say even a larger number. To give a detailed account of that visitation would be to relate an oft-told tale. Some important facts, not generally known, respecting old-time plagues and pestilences may be gleaned from parish registers and churchwardens' accounts, and it is from such records that we propose mainly to draw materials for this chapter.

When a town was infected with the plague, business was suspended, and the inhabitants isolated from the neighbouring places. If a person desired to travel at large, he made application to the Mayor or Chief Magistrate, and obtained a certificate to the effect that he was not suspected of the plague.

In many towns, great wisdom was displayed by erecting huts on breezy moors and other places away from the busy haunts of men, for the reception of the plague-stricken persons, and to which they were removed. The inmates of a house were not suffered to leave the homes from whence the patients had been removed. An order passed in London, in 1570, states: "Howses, having some sicke, though none die, or from whence some sicke have been removed, are infected houses, and such are to be shutt upp for a moneth. The whole family to tarrie xxviii daies." Round the houses, watch and ward were constantly kept to prevent egress. Certain boundaries were defined, and these could not be passed. The watchers provided the inmates of the houses with food, etc., and took messages to their friends. In the churchwardens' accounts of St. Mary, Woolchurch, Haw, is an entry:--

"1607-8. Paid a warder for warding Mr. Clarke's house, being infected,
ordered by the Mayor 4 0."

On the door of the infected house was the sign of a cross, in a flaming red colour, with the pathetic prayer, "Lord, have mercy on us." In old churchwardens' accounts, many items like the following, drawn from the accounts of St. Mary, Woolnoth, London, might be quoted:

"1593-4. Item for setting a crosse upon one Allen's doore in the
sicknesse time ijd.

Item paid for setting two red crosses upon Anthony Sound his
dore iiijd."

These crosses were about a foot in length. More than one student of the past has suggested that the practice of marking the doors of infected houses with red crosses arose from the injunction given to Moses at the institution of the passover. The crosses served the important purpose for which they were intended, namely, to caution folk against going to infected houses.

Queen Elizabeth, in 1563, commanded that the inmates of a house which had been visited by the plague should not go to church for a month.

Orders were given that any dogs found in the streets were to be killed. An order, bearing on this matter, made in May, 1583, at Winchester, may be reproduced: "That if any house wtn this cytie shall happen to be infected with the Plague, that thene evye persone to keepe within his or her house every his or her dogg, and not to suffer them to goo at large: And if any dogg be then founde abroad at large, it shall be lawful for the Beadle or any other person to kill the same dogg: and that any Owner of such Dogg going at large shall lose 6s." It was believed that dogs conveyed contagion from infected houses. A passage in Homer's "Iliad" has a reference to man obtaining infection from an animal. It relates to the great pestilence that prevailed in the Grecian army:

"On mules and beasts the infection first began,
At last, its vengeful arrows fix'd in man;
Apollo's wrath the dire disorder spread,
And heap'd the camp with mountains of the dead.
For nine long nights throughout the dusky air,
The funeral torches shed a dismal glare."

Many remedies were tried to stay the progress of plagues. The ringing of church bells was among the number. "Great ringing of bells in populous cities," says Bacon, in his "Natural History," "disperseth pestilent air, which may be from the concussion of the air, and not from the sound." Music, in the Middle Ages, was believed to have a healing power. Large fires were lighted in houses and streets as preventatives. It is not unlikely that the practice may be derived from the fact that, in 1347, during the time of the plague raging at Avignon, Pope Clement VI. caused great fires to be kept in his palace, day and night, and by this means believed he had kept the pestilence from his household. In 1563, we learn from Stow that a commandment came from Queen Elizabeth that "every man in every street and lane should make a bonefire three times a week, in order to the ceasing of the plague, if it so pleased God, and so to continue these fires everywhere, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays."

It is asserted in Rome, in A.D. 195, that for some time, 5,000 persons died daily of a fearful plague. The physicians were unable to check its deadly course. It lasted for three years. The doctors of the day urged upon the people to fill their noses and ears with sweet smelling ointments to prevent contagion. We learn from Defoe's "Journal of the Plague Year, 1665," how largely perfumes, aromatics, and essences, were employed to escape contagion at that time. Says Defoe, if you went into a church where any number of people were present, "there would be such a mixture of smells at the entrance, that it was much more strong, though, perhaps, not so wholesome, than if you were going into an apothecary's or druggist's shop. In a word, the whole church was like a smelling bottle; in one corner, it was all perfumes; in another, aromatics, balsamics, and a variety of drugs and herbs; in another, salts and spirits; as every one was furnished for their own preservation." He further says: "The poorer people, who only set open their windows night and day, burnt brimstone, pitch, and gunpowder, and such things in their rooms, did as well as the best."

The annals of many of the northern English towns contain numerous sad references to plagues. Newcastle-upon-Tyne, for example, suffered much. The churchwardens' accounts of St. Nicholas contain records of payments which bear on this subject. We find, for instance, the following item:

"1699. By cash paid for a tarr barrell to burn in ye church 0 8."

Fires were made in churches in movable pans. A year later, we read:

"1700. For hearbs for rubing ye pewes 1 0."

In courts of justice, might be seen large nosegays, not for ornament, but as preservatives against the pest. The Rev. J. R. Boyle, F.S.A., has gone carefully over the churchwardens' accounts of St. Nicholas', now the Cathedral of the city of Newcastle, and reproduced some curious items in his guide to the building. Here follow a few of the items:

"1684. For juniper and erbes for ye vestry 0 10.

1684. Paid for erbes and fflowers for Mr. Maior's pew 2 times 3 0.

1686. Erbes for ye church at Easter, Whitsuntyde, and Assizes 6 0.

1688. Paid for holland [holly] and juniper for ye vestery, and erbs
1 11.

1690. Paid for sweet herbs for strawing in ye pews, etc. 1 0."

Mr. William Kelly, read before the Royal Historical Society, on July 12th, 1877, an important paper on "Visitations of the Plague at Leicester." He gave particulars of the Mayor addressing a letter to Justice Gawdie, who was about to visit the town in his official capacity. He was informed that the plague had broken out in houses near the castle, and it was concluded that his lordship would not come to preside so near the infected places. The result of the communication may be gathered from the following entry, copied from the chamberlain's accounts:

"1594. Item, paid for charges of makinge readye of All Hallowes Churche
for the judges to hold the assyses in, because the other parte of the
town was then infected with the sicknes xvs. vjd."

We have previously stated, that persons wishing to leave a plague-stricken town, for the purpose of travelling, were obliged to obtain passes. Mr. Kelly gives a copy of one of these documents, which we reproduce _in extenso_. It reads as follows:

"Villa Leic. Theise are to certifie all the Queenes Majesties officers and lovinge subjects, to whom theise presents shall come, that the bearer, Alice Stynton, the wief of John Stynton, of the towne of Leycester, pettye chapman, dothe dwell and inhabyte in the parish of St. Nicholas, in the said town, in a streete called the Sore Laine, neyre unto the West Brigge.

The which John Stynton hathe not bene in Leycester sythence one fortnytt after St. James Daye last; but travelinge abrode in Northamptonshier about his lawfull affaires in gaytheringe under the Greate Seale of England, by lycence, for a poore house at Waltam Crosse.

And this bearer, his wief, with hym all the said tyme, untill her nowe comyng hom to Leycester, which was aboute a weeke past. The which bearer her dwellyng ys not neyre unto places suspected of the plage, but ys cleyre and sound from the same, God be thancked, neyther ys there any att this present sicke thereof in the said streete or parish, God be praised. Do therefore request you to permytt and suffer her quietlye to travell to her husband, and also to permytt and suffer her said husband and her quietlye, upon ther honest behavire, to travell aboute ther lawfull busynes withoute any your hyndrance, and you the constables to helpe them to lodginges in ther said travell yf such nede shall require. In witnes whereof, we the mayor and alderman of the saide towne of Leycester have hereunto subscribed our names, and sette the seale of office of the said mayor, this vjth daye of October 1593, A^o 35^o Eliz."

The records of Beverley supply some important notes respecting persons leaving the place. We gather from George Oliver's history of Beverley, that the plague raged with great violence in the year 1610, death and desertion were greatly thinning the town; the corporation made an order, directing that a fine of ten shillings be imposed on every individual leaving the town, even to go to fairs and markets, without the mayor's special permission. If the preceding measure was insufficient to detain persons in Beverley, it was resolved to imprison or otherwise punish, at the discretion of the justices, those offending.

The head of every family had to report periodically, during the time of the plague, to the constable in his ward, the state of the health of his household. If the disease attacked any member of his family, or those under his charge, and he neglected, within a specified number of hours, to report the matter, he was liable to a fine of forty shillings, to be placed in the town's chest.

The town of Derby suffered greatly from a plague in 1592-3. It appears to have been imported in some bales of cloth from the Levant to London, and quickly spread into the provinces. In the parish register of St. Alkmund's, Derby, under October, 1592, is this statement, "Hic incipit pestis prestifera." It took twelve months to run its destructive course.

The register of All Saints', Derby, under October, 1593, says: "About this time, the plague of pestilence, by the great mercy and goodness of Almighty God, stay'd, past all expectac'on of man, for it rested upon assondaye, at what tyme it was dispersed in every corner of this whole p'she: ther was not two houses together free from ytt, and yet the Lord bade his angell staye, as in Davide's tyme: His name be blessed for ytt."

The inhabitants of Derby suffered greatly from a plague in 1665. In the Arboretum of the town is a memorial of the visitation, in the form of a stone, bearing the following inscription:

"Headless Cross, or _MARKET STONE_.

This Stone FORMED PART OF AN ANCIENT CROSS AT THE UPPER END OF FRIAR GATE, AND WAS USED BY THE INHABITANTS OF DERBY AS A MARKET STONE DURING THE VISITATION OF THE PLAGUE, 1665. IT IS THUS DESCRIBED BY HUTTON IN HIS HISTORY OF DERBY.

* * * * *

'1665. Derby was again visited by the plague at the same time in which London fell under that severe calamity. The town was forsaken; the farmers declined the Market-place; and grass grew upon that spot which had furnished the supports of life. To prevent a famine, the inhabitants erected at the top of Nuns-green, one or two hundred yards from the buildings, now Friar-gate, what bore the name of _Headless-cross_, consisting of about four quadrangular steps, covered in the centre with one large stone; the whole near five feet high; I knew it in perfection. Hither the market-people, having their mouths primed with tobacco as a preservative, brought their provisions, stood at a distance from their property, and at a greater from the townspeople, with whom they were to traffic. The buyer was not suffered to touch any of the articles before purchase; but when the agreement was finished, he took the goods, and deposited the money in a vessel filled with vinegar, set for that purpose.'"

Tobacco has long been regarded as an efficacious preservative against disease. There is a curious entry in Thomas Hearne's Diary, 1720-21, bearing on this matter. He thus writes, under date of January 21st: "I have been told that in the last great plague in London none that kept tobacconists' shops had the plague. It is certain that smoaking was looked upon as a most excellent preservative. In so much, that even children were obliged to smoak. And I remember that I heard formerly Tom Rogers, who was yeoman beadle, say that, when he was that year, when the plague raged, a school-boy at Eaton, all the boys of that school were obliged to smoak in the school every morning, and that he was never whipped so much in his life as he was one morning for not smoaking."

Charles Knight, in his "Old England," gives an original drawing of the Broad Stone, East Retford, Nottinghamshire. He says, on this stone, money, previously immersed in vinegar, was placed in exchange for goods, during the Great Plague.

In front of Tothby House, near Alford, Lincolnshire, under a spreading tree, is a large stone, which formerly stood on Miles Cross Hill, and, when the town was plague-stricken, in the year 1630, on this stone, money immersed in vinegar was deposited, in exchange for food brought from Spilsby and other places. From July 22nd, 1630, to the end of February, 1631, 132 burials are recorded in the parish register, and this out of a population of under 1000 persons, a proportion equal to that of London during the Great Plague. In one homestead, within twelve days, were six deaths. The Rev. Geo. S. Tyack, B.A., who has contributed a carefully-prepared chapter to "Bygone Lincolnshire" on this theme, does not state how the scourge was brought to Alford.

The dead were, as a rule, buried at night, without coffin and ceremony, and frequently in a common grave outside the usual graveyards, like, for example, those in the pest pit of London. "Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!" was the dismal cry which was heard in London during the Great Plague. The people were dead and buried in a few hours, and it is believed that many were interred alive. A well-known instance occurred at Stratford-on-Avon. The plague raged at the town in 1564, and swept away one-seventh of the inhabitants. The council chamber was closed, but the councillors did not neglect their duties; they met in a garden to discuss the best means of helping the sufferers. The visitation was not confined only to the homes of the poor. The Manor House of Clopton was attacked, and one of its fair inmates, a beautiful girl named Charlotte Clopton, was sick, and to all appearance died. She was buried without delay in the family vault, underneath Stratford Church. A week passed, and another was borne to the same resting place. When the vault was opened, a terrible sight was presented. Charlotte Clopton was seen leaning against the wall in her grave clothes. She had been buried alive, and, on recovering from the plague, had attempted to get out of the vault, when death had ended her sufferings.

At Bradley, in the parish of Malpas, Cheshire, an entire family, named Dawson, consisting of seven members and two servants, died of the plague, in the year 1625. One of Dawson's sons had been in London, and returned home sick, died, and infected the whole household. The deaths commenced towards the end of July and ended September 15th. Respecting Richard Dawson, the following particulars are given in the parish register, after stating that he was the brother of the head of the house: "being sicke of the plague, and perceyving he must die at yt time, arose out of his bed and made his grave, and caused his nefew, John Dawson, to cast strawe into the grave, w'ch was not farre from the house, and went and lay'd him down in the say'd grave, and caused clothes to be layd uppon, and so dep'ted out of this world; this he did, because he was a strong man, and heavier than his said nefew and another wench were able to bury. He died about xxivth of August. Thus much I was credibly tould he did." The next entry in this distressing record bears date of August 29th, and is that of the nephew just named, and, on September 15th, Rose Smyth, the servant, doubtless the wench referred to, was buried, "and the last of yt household."

At Braintree, in Essex, in 1665, the plague made great ravages. In that year, 665 persons died of it, being fully one-third of the inhabitants of the place. Business was at a standstill, the town was shunned, and the inhabitants had to depend on charity. Long grass grew in the streets, and the whole place was one of desolation. At this time, Dr. Kidder, afterwards Bishop of Bath and Wells, was looking after the spiritual welfare of the place. His life contains a painful picture of the sufferings of the inhabitants. In his own house, a young gentleman was attacked and died. "My neighbours," he writes, "durst not come near, and the provisions which were procured for us were laid at a distance, upon a green before my house. No tongue can express the dismal calamity which that part of Essex lay under at that time. As for myself, I was in perpetual danger. I conversed daily with those who came from the infected houses, and it was unavoidable. The provisions sent into the neighbouring infected town were left at the village where I was, and near my house. Thither the Earl of Warwick sent his fat bullocks, which he did every week give to the poor of Braintree. The servants were not willing to carry them further. This occasioned frequent coming from that infected place to my village, and, indeed, to my very door. My parish clerk had it when he put on my surplice, and went from me to his house, and died. Another neighbour had three children, and they all died in three nights immediately succeeding each other, and I was forced to carry them to the churchyard and bury them. We were alarmed perpetually with the news of the death of our neighbours and acquaintances, and awakened to expect our turns. This continued a great part of the summer. It pleased God to preserve me and mine from this noisome pestilence. Praised be his name." The plague at Colchester, in the same county, in 1665-6, made the death rate higher than that of the neighbouring town or even of London. Its deadly operations opened in August, 1665, and closed in December, 1666, and, in that period, passed away 4,731 persons. Poverty prevailed, but help poured in from many places. Weekly collections were made in the churches of London, and by this means the sum of L1,311 10s. was obtained. The oath book of the Corporation contains the form of oath administered to men known as "Searchers of the Plague." It was the duty of the men to search out and view the corpses of all who died, and, in cases of death from the plague, to make known the fact to the constables of the parish, and the bearers appointed to bury them. The searchers had to live together, and apart from their families, and not go abroad, except in execution of their duty. They were careful not to go near any one, and they carried in their hands white wands, so that people might know them and so avoid them.

Collections in churches were very general for those suffering from the plague. The following entry, reproduced from the parish register of the small town of Cheadle, Staffordshire, may be quoted as a specimen of similar records:

"1666. Collected on the first monthly fast, being second day of
August, towards the relief of the persons and places visited by the
plague 14s. 7d."

The plague penetrated into most unexpected places. Far away from London, in the Peak of Derbyshire, is the delightfully-situated mountain village of Eyam, a place swept over by health-giving breezes. It is a locality of apparent security against infection. In September, 1665, a parcel of tailor's patterns was sent from London to Eyam, and with it came the disease. At that time the village had a population of 350 persons, and when the plague "was exhausted with excessive slaughter," only seventy-three were alive. From September 6th, 1665, to October 11th, 1666, 277 died, the death rate being much higher than that of London. The history of this visitation is heart-rending, and has been told by several writers, but by none more carefully than by William Wood, in his "History of Eyam," published by Richard Keene, of Derby. Two names in this dark story stand out in bright relief, one was the Rev. Thomas Stanley, the ejected rector of the parish, in 1662, and the Rev. William Mompesson, a successor, who was appointed in 1664. With their lives in their hands, these two brave men remained at the post of duty, visited, advised, and aided the sufferers unto death. Mrs. Mompesson administered daily to her husband's suffering parishioners until death closed her useful life, on the 24th August, 1666. This was a terrible blow to her devoted husband, and a heavy loss to the villagers. "At one time," we are told, "Mrs. Mompesson's heart failed her, when she thought of her two children in the midst of the plague. She cast herself and her two children at the feet of her husband, and begged that they might all depart from the death-stricken place. In the most loving manner, however, he raised her from his feet, and pointed out the awful responsibility which would attach to his deserting his post. He then besought his wife to flee to some distant spot, where she and her babes might be safe. She refused, however, to leave him, but they mutually agreed to send the children to a relative in Yorkshire."

About the middle of June, the more wealthy people fled to distant places from the plague-stricken village, and others built huts on the neighbouring hills, and in them took shelter. The entire population appeared determined to flee. Mr. Mompesson pointed out the folly of such a proceeding, observing that they would carry the disease to other places. His earnest entreaties prevailed.

He wrote to the Earl of Devonshire for assistance, to enable the inhabitants to remain in their own village. The Earl realised the importance of confining the disease within a certain limit. He readily made arrangements for a constant supply of food and clothing for the sufferers. A boundary was fixed round the village, marked by stones, and the residents solemnly agreed that not one should go beyond the radius indicated. The provisions, etc., were left early in the morning at an appointed place, and were fetched away by men selected for the work. If money was paid, it was placed in water. The men of Eyam faithfully kept their promise, so that the plague was not carried by them to any other places.

The churchyard was closed and funeral rites were not read; graves were made in fields and gardens near the cottages of the departed.

During the time the disease was at its height, the church was closed but the faithful rector did not neglect to assemble his flock each succeeding Sabbath in a quiet spot on the south side of the village, and to proclaim to them words of comfort.

Shortly after the disease had stopped at Eyam, the rectory of Eaking was presented to Mr. Mompesson. The inhabitants of his new parish had such a terror of the plague that they dreaded his coming amongst them, and a hut was built for him in Rufford Park, where he remained until their fears had subsided.

This short study of a serious subject enables us to fully realise the force of the supplication in the Litany: "From Plague and Pestilence, Good Lord deliver us."

A King Curing an Abbot of Indigestion.

Many of the English monarchs have delighted in the pleasures of the chase. Their hunting expeditions have often led them into out-of-the-way places where they were unknown, and their adventures gave rise to good stories, which have done much to enliven the dry pages of national history. Bluff King Hal was a jovial huntsman, and was one day enjoying the pastime in the glades of Windsor Forest, when he missed his way, and, to his surprise, found himself near the Abbey at Reading. He keenly felt the pangs of hunger, and resolved to try and get a meal at the table of the Abbey hard by.

After disguising himself, he made his way to the house, under the pretence of being one of the king's guards. He was invited to partake of a sirloin of beef, and he did such justice to it as to surprise not a little the worthy abbot. The latter pledged his guest's royal master, adding that if his weak stomach could digest such a meal as his visitor had just eaten he would gladly give a hundred pounds. He lamented that he could only take for his dinner the wing of a chicken, or other equally small dainty. The burly stranger pledged him in return, and, after expressing his gratitude, departed without his identity being discovered.

After a few short weeks had passed, another stranger wended his way to the Abbey of Reading, armed with a warrant from King Henry VIII. to take the abbot a prisoner, and lodge him in the Tower. It was with a heavy heart that the abbot journeyed to London. His prison fare was very plain, and consisted of bread and water, and provided in small quantities, so that he not only suffered in mind, but also from the want of food. He often wondered what he had done to displease the king, but could not obtain any information on the subject. A change at last came over the scene. A fine sirloin of beef was placed on his table, and he was bidden to feast to his heart's content. He did not need any pressing to do justice to the joint, for he was almost famished, and dined more like a glutton than a man with a weak stomach. The king watched with amusement, from a secret place, the abbot enjoying his dinner, and, when he had nearly completed it, stepped forth from his hiding place, and demanded one hundred pounds for curing the poor abbot of his indigestion, and reminded him of their former meeting at the Abbey of Reading. The patient gladly paid his physician the stipulated fee, and, with a light purse and a merry heart, bent his steps homeward.

The Services and Customs of Royal Oak Day.

Writing in his diary, on May 29th, 1665, John Evelyn says: "This was the first anniversary appointed by Act of Parliament to be observed as a day of General Thanksgiving for the miraculous restoration of his Majesty: our vicar preaching on Psalm cxviii. 24, requiring us to be thankful and rejoice, as indeed we had cause." A special form of prayer in commemoration of the Restoration of Charles II. was included in the Book of Common Prayer until 1859, when it was removed by Act of Parliament.

On this day, the Chaplain of the House of Commons used to preach before the House, in St. Margaret's Church, Westminster. The service has been discontinued since 1858. It attracted little attention, and the congregation usually consisted of the Speaker, the Sergeant-at-arms, the clerks and other officers, and about half a dozen members.

It was, in bygone times, in many parts of England, the practice, on this day, to fasten boughs of oak to the pinnacles of church steeples.

The display of oak is in memory of the king's escape after the Battle of Worcester, in 1651, and of his successfully hiding himself in an oak tree at Boscobel. Tennyson, in his "Talking Oak," refers to the subject:

"Thy famous brother oak,
Wherein the younger Charles abode,
Till all the paths grew dim,
While far below the Roundheads rode,
And humm'd a surly hymn."

Richard Penderel greatly assisted Charles in his time of trouble, and he selected the oak in which safety was found. When Charles "came to his own," the claims of Penderel were not overlooked. He was attached to the Court. When he died, he was buried with honours at St. Giles-in-the-Fields. It was customary, for a long period, to decorate his grave in the churchyard with oak branches.

Formerly, in Derbyshire, it was the practice to place over the doors of houses, branches of young oak, and it is still the custom for boys to wear sprigs of the same tree in their hats and buttonholes. If the lads neglect to wear the oak-leaf they are stung with nettles by their more loyal companions. At Looe, and other districts of East Cornwall, it was enforced by spitting at or "cobbing" the offender. In bygone times, the boys of Newcastle-on-Tyne had an insulting rhyme, which they used to repeat to such folk as they met who did not wear oak-leaves:

"Royal oak
The Whigs to provoke."

On this day, many wore plane tree leaves, and would make a retort to the foregoing rhyme:

"Plane tree leaves;
The Church folk are thieves."

Mr. John Nicholson, in his "Folk Lore of East Yorkshire" (Hull, 1890), has an interesting note on this subject. "During the days of spring," says Mr. Nicholson, "boys busily 'bird-nest' (seek nests), and lay up a store of eggs for the 29th of May, Royal Oak Day, or Mobbing Day. These eggs are expended by being thrown at other boys, but all boys who carry a sprig of Royal Oak, not dog oak, either in their cap or coat, are free from molestation. Not only wild birds' eggs, but the eggs of hens and ducks are used to 'mob' (pelt) with, and the older and more unsavoury the eggs are, the better are they liked--by the thrower. The children sing:

'The twenty-ninth of May,
Royal Oak Day,
If you don't give us a holiday
We'll all run away.'"

At Castleton, Derbyshire, an old custom still lingers of making a huge garland of flowers on this day, and afterwards suspending it on the top of the principal pinnacle of the church. The late Mr. Alfred Burton saw this garland constructed in 1885, and had a drawing made of it for his volume entitled "Rush-bearing." "The framework," says Mr. Burton, "is of wood, thatched with straw. Interior diameter, a little over two feet, outside (when covered with flowers), over three feet six inches. In shape it somewhat resembles a bell, completely covered over with wild flowers--hyacinths, water-buttercups, buttercups, daisies, forget-me-nots, wallflowers, rhododendrons, tulips, and ornamental grasses, in rows, each composed of the same flower, which have been gathered in the neighbourhood the evening before. The top, called the 'queen,' is formed of garden flowers, and fits into a socket at the top of the garland. It weighs over a hundredweight, requires two men to lift it, and has occupied four men from noon till five o'clock in the afternoon to make it."

At six in the evening, a procession is formed from a village inn, whose turn it is to take the lead in the festivities. A band of music heads the processionists, next comes the garland, which, we are told by Mr. Burton, is "borne on the head and shoulders of a man riding a horse, and wearing a red jacket. A stout handle inside, which rests on the saddle in front of him, enables him to hold it upright. It completely envelopes him to the waist, and is roomy enough to enable ale to be passed up to his mouth, of which he takes good care to have a share. His horse is led for him, and he is followed by another man on horseback, dressed as a woman, who acts the fool. These are followed by the villagers, dancing, even old people who can scarcely walk making a point of attempting to dance on this, the greatest day in the year at Castleton. After parading the village, the 'queen' is taken off the garland and placed in the church, the garland being hoisted with ropes to the top of the church tower, where it is placed on one of the pinnacles, and left till it has withered away, when the framework is taken down and kept for another year. The other pinnacles have branches of oak."

In the churchwardens' accounts of Castleton, are entries as follows:

"1749. Pd. for an iron rod to hang singers' garland on 0 0 8.

1750. Pd. ringers on 29th May 0 3 0."

Payments for ringing bells on the 29th May occur frequently in churchwardens' accounts, and a few examples may be quoted. The first is from Wellington, Somerset:

"1688. Pd. for ringing, the 29th May 0 5 0."

The accounts of St. Michael's, Bishop Stortford, state:

"1703. Pd. ringers 29th May 0 6 8."

St. Mary's, Stamford, contain an item as follows:

"1709. Pd. Richard Hambleton for ale for the ringers on ye 29th May
00 06 08."

Northampton is loyal to the memory of Charles II. He was a benefactor to the borough, and helped the inhabitants after the great fire of 1675. In the Baptismal Register of All Saints', Northampton, it is recorded, under September 1675, as follows: "In this month, a very lamentable fire destroyed 3 parts of our Towne and Church." The Marriage Register says: "While the world lasts, remember September the 20th, a dreadfull fire, it consumed to ashes in a few houres, 3 parts of our Towne and Cheef Church." The sum of L25,000 was collected by briefs and private charities towards the heavy loss sustained by the inhabitants. Charles II. gave 1000 tons of timber out of Whittlewood forest, and remitted the duty of chimney-money in the town for seven years. We gather from Hume, that "the king's debts had become so intolerable, that the commons were constrained to vote him an extraordinary supply of L1,200,000, to be levied by eighteen months' assessment, and, finding upon inquiry that the several branches of the revenue fell much short of the sums they expected, they at last, after much delay, voted a new imposition of 2s. on each hearth, and this tax they settled on the king during his life."

Macaulay speaks of this tax as being "peculiarly odious, for it could only be levied by means of domiciliary visits.... The poorer householders were frequently unable to pay their hearth-money to the day. When this happened, their furniture was distrained without mercy, for the tax was farmed, and a farmer of taxes, is, of all creditors, proverbially, the most rapacious." He quotes from some doggerel ballads of the period, and the following is one of the verses reproduced:

"The good old dames, whenever they the chimney-man espied,
Unto their nooks they haste away, their pots and pipkins hide;
There is not one old dame in ten, and search the nation through,
But, if you talk of chimney-men, will spare a curse or two."

A reference to chimney-money occurs in an epitaph in Folkestone churchyard. Here is a copy:

"In Memory of
REBECCA ROGERS,
who died August 22nd, 1688.
Aged 44 years.

A house she hath; it's made of such good fashion,
The tenant ne'er shall pay for reparation,
Nor will her landlord ever raise her rent,
Or turn her out of doors for non-payment.
From chimney-money too this cell is free--
To such a house, who would not tenant be?"

The inhabitants of Northampton, to show their gratitude to the king for his consideration, displayed oak branches over their house doors. The members of the corporation, accompanied by the children of the charity schools, attend service at All Saints' Church. A statue of the king, in front of the church, is usually enveloped in oak boughs on May 29th.

Marrying in a White Sheet.

It was not an uncommon circumstance in the last, and even in the early years of the present century, for marriages to be performed _en chemise_, or in a white sheet. It was an old belief, that a man marrying a woman in debt, if he received her at the hands of the minister clothed only in her shift, was not liable to pay the accounts she had contracted before their union. We think it will not be without interest to give a few authenticated instances of this class of marriages.

The earliest example we have found, is recorded in the parish register of Chiltern, All Saints', Wilts. It is stated: "John Bridmore and Anne Selwood were married October 17th, 1714. The aforesaid Anne Selwood was married in her smock, without any clothes or headgier on."

On June 25th, 1738, George Walker, a linen weaver, and Mary Gee, of the "George and Dragon," Gorton Green, were made man and wife, at the ancient chapel close by. The bride was only attired in her shift.

Particulars of another local case are given in the columns of _Harrop's Manchester Mercury_, for March 12th, 1771, as follows: "On Thursday last, was married, at Ashton-under-Lyne, Nathaniel Eller to the widow Hibbert, both upwards of fifty years of age; the widow had only her shift on, with her hair tied behind with horse hair, as a means to free them both from any obligation of paying her former husband's debts."

We have heard of a case where the vicar declined to marry a couple on account of the woman presenting herself in her under garment. Another clergyman, after carefully reading the rubric, and not finding anything about the bride's dress, married a pair, although the woman wore only her chemise.

The following is taken from _Aris's Birmingham Gazette_ for 1797:

"There is an opinion generally prevalent in Staffordshire that if a woman should marry a man in distressed circumstances, none of his creditors can touch her property if she should be in _puris naturalibus_ while the ceremony is performed. In consequence of this prejudice, a woman of some property lately came with her intended husband into the vestry of the great church of Birmingham, and the moment she understood the priest was ready at the altar, she threw off a large cloak, and in the exact state of Eve in Paradise, walked deliberately to the spot, and remained in that state till the ceremony was ended. This circumstance has naturally excited much noise in the neighbourhood, and various opinions prevail respecting the conduct of the clergyman. Some vehemently condemn him as having given sanction to an act of indecency; and others think, as nothing is said relative to dress in the nuptial ceremony, that he had no power to refuse the rite. Our readers may be assured of this extraordinary event, however improbable it may appear in these times of virtue and decorum."

We gather from a periodical called _The Athenian_, that this custom was practised in Yorkshire at the beginning of this century: "May, 1808. At Otley, in Yorkshire, Mr. George Rastrick, of Hawkesworth, aged 73, to Mrs. Nulton, of Burley Woodhead, aged 60. In compliance with the vulgar notion that a wife being married in a state of nudity exonerated her husband from legal obligations to discharge any demands on her purse, the bride disrobed herself at the altar, and stood shivering in her chemise while the marriage ceremony was performed."

In Lincolnshire, at so late a period as between 1838 and 1844, a woman was wed enveloped in a sheet.

A slightly different method of marriage is mentioned in Malcolm's "Anecdotes of London." It is stated that "a brewer's servant, in February, 1723, to prevent his liability to the payment of the debts of a Mrs. Brittain, whom he intended to marry, the lady made her appearance at the door of St. Clement Danes habited in her shift; hence her inamorato conveyed the modest fair to a neighbouring apothecary's, where she was completely equipped with clothing purchased by him; and in these, Mrs. Brittain changed her name in church."

In the foregoing, it will have been observed that the marriages have been conducted _en chemise_ for the protection of the pocket of the bridegroom. "The Annual Register," of 1766, contains an account of a wedding of this class, for the protection of the woman. We read: "A few days ago, a handsome, well-dressed young woman came to a church in Whitehaven, to be married to a man, who was attending there with the clergyman. When she had advanced a little into the church, a nymph, her bridesmaid, began to undress her, and, by degrees, stript her to her shift; thus she was led, blooming and unadorned, to the altar, where the marriage ceremony was performed. It seems this droll wedding was occasioned by an embarrassment in the affairs of the intended husband, upon which account the girl was advised to do this, that he might be entitled to no other marriage portion than her smock."

Marrying under the Gallows.

Some of the old ballads of merry England contain allusions to a law or usage of primitive times, to the effect that if a man or woman would consent to marry, under the gallows, a person condemned to death, the criminal would escape hanging. A few criminals, however, preferred the hangman's knot to the marriage tie, if we may believe the rude rhymes of our ancestors. In one of Pinkerton's works may be read an old poem in which we are told of a criminal refusing marriage at the foot of the gallows. Here are a few lines from the ballad:

"There was a victim in a cart,
One day for to be hanged,
And his reprieve was granted,
And the cart made a stand.

'Come, marry a wife and save your life,'
The judge aloud did cry;
'Oh, why should I corrupt my life'
The victim did reply.

'For here's a crowd of every sort,
And why should I prevent their sport!
The bargain's bad in every part,
The wife's the worst--drive on the cart?'"

A poem, published in 1542, entitled the "Schole House," contains an allusion:

"To hang or wed, both hath one home,
And whether it be, I am well sure
Hangynge is better of the twayne--
Sooner done, and shorter payne."

We read in an old ballad the story of a merchant of Chichester, who was saved execution by a loving maiden.

In the old Manx "Temporal Customary Laws," A.D. 1577, occurs the following: "If any man take a woman by constraint, or force her against her will, if she be a wife he must suffer the law of her. If she be a maid or single woman, the deemster shall give her a rope, sword, and a ring, and she shall have her choice to hang him with the rope, cut off his head with the sword, or marry him with the ring!"

It is stated in a work published in 1680, entitled "Warning to Servants, or, the case of Margaret Clark, lately executed for firing her master's house in Southwark." "Since the poor maid was executed, there has been a false and malicious story published concerning her in the _True Domestick Intelligence_ of Tuesday, March 30th. There was omitted in the confession of Mary Clark (so he falsely calls her), who was executed for firing the house of M. de la Noy, dyer in Southwark, viz., that, at her execution, there was a fellow who designed to marry her under the gallows (according to the antient laudable custome), but she, being in hopes of a reprieve, seemed unwilling; but, when the rope was about her neck, she cryed she was willing, and then the fellow's friends dissuaded him from marrying her; so she lost her husband and life together." To the foregoing is added, "We know of no such custome allowed by law, that any man's offering, at a place of execution, to marry a woman condemned shall save her."

Here is a curious paragraph bearing on this theme, drawn from _Parker's London News_, for April 7th, 1725: "Nine young women dressed in white, each with a white wand in her hand, presented a petition to his Majesty (George I.) on behalf of a young man condemned at Kingston Assizes of burglary, one of them offered to marry him under the gallows in case of a reprieve."

In a work entitled "The interesting narrative of the life of Oulandah Equians, or Gustavus Vassa, written by himself," and published in 1789, is the following passage: "While we lay here (New York, 1784) a circumstance happened which I thought extremely singular. One day, a malefactor was to be executed on the gallows, but with the condition that if any woman, having nothing on but her shift, married a man under the gallows, his life would be saved. This extraordinary privilege was claimed; and a woman presented herself, and the marriage ceremony was performed."

Kissing the Bride.

The parents of a bride in humble circumstances rarely attend the marriage ceremony at the church. The father's place is usually filled by one of the bridegroom's friends. He, in some parts of the North of England, claims the privilege of first kissing the newly-made wife, in right of his temporary paternity. Some of the old-fashioned clergy regarded the prerogative as theirs, and were by no means slow in exercising it. As soon as the ceremony was completed they never failed to quickly kiss the bride. Even a shy and retiring vicar would not neglect the pleasant duty. The Rev. Thomas Ebdon, vicar of Merrington, who was deemed the most bashful of men, always kissed the women he married.