reply on the whole subject when the three propositions had each had their separate consideration. Watson replied that they had mistaken the directions, and that on the first head they had not been heard at all; Doctor Cole had spoken extempore, and had given only his own private opinion. The Lord Keeper regretted their misconception, but was unable to permit the prescribed order to be interrupted; and, after some recrimination, the bishops agreed to proceed. But here another difficulty arose. They had been assigned priority, and they preferred to follow; they protested, with some reason, that it was not for them to prove the Church's doctrine to be true. They professed the old-established faith of Christendom; and if it was attacked, they were ready to answer objections. Let the Protestants produce their difficulties, and they would reply to them. They did not and would not understand that they were but actors in a play, of which the finale was already arranged; that they were spoiling its symmetry by altering the plan. The Lord Keeper replied that they must adhere to their programme, or the performance could not go forward. He asked them, one by one, if they would proceed. They refused. He appealed to the Abbot of Westminster; and the Abbot of Westminster agreed with the bishops. If that was their resolution, then, the Lord Keeper said, the discussion was ended-and ended by their fault. They had refused to accept the order prescribed by the Queen, and they should not make an order of their own. 'But forasmuch as,' he concluded significantly, 'ye will not that we should hear you, you may perhaps 'shortly hear of us.'1. This was the last fight face to face between the Church of Rome and the Church of England. It was the direct preparation for the Liturgy as it now stands, as enjoined in Elizabeth's first Act of Uniformity. Against that Liturgy and against the Royal Supremacy the chief protest was uttered by Feckenham from his place in the House of Lords-on the lowest place on the Bishops' form'where he sate as the only Abbot.2 The battle was however Froude, vii. 73-76. See Burnet's History of the Reformation, part ii. book iii. pp. 388-391; Cardwell's Con ferences, pp. 55-92. 2 Strype's Annals, ii. 438, app. ix.; Cardwell's Conferences, p. 98. Feckenham's farewell to the College lost, and it only remains, as far as Westminster is concerned, 6 He was treated with more or less indulgence, according to the temper of the times-sometimes a prisoner in the Tower; 2 sometimes a guest in the custody of Horne, Bishop of Winchester; afterwards in the same capacity in the palace of Coxe, his former predecessor at Westminster, and now the old His death, Bishop of Ely; and finally in the castle of Wisbeach. he left a memorial of himself in a stone cross, and in the more enduring form of good deeds amongst the poor. His last expressions breathe the same spirit of moderation which had marked his life, and, contrasted with the violence of most of 1585; buried at Wisbeach. 1 Fuller's Church Hist. ix. 6, 8, 38. -The elms, or their successors, still remain. There was till 1779 a row of trees in the middle of the garden, which was then cut down. (Chapter Book, March 17, 1779.) 2 He was deprived Jan, 4, 1559–60, There his coreligionists at that time, remind us of the forbearance and good sense of Ken amongst the Nonjurors. change Elizabeth. The change in Westminster Abbey was now complete. A Protestant sermon was preached to a 'great audience."1 The The stone altars were everywhere destroyed. The massy under oaken table which now stands in the Confessor's Chapel was Queen substituted, probably at that time, for the High Altar,3 and was placed, as it would seem, at the foot of the steps.* St. Catherine's Chapel was finally demolished, and its materials used for the new buildings.5 The interest of Queen Elizabeth in the institution never flagged. Even from her childhood she had taken part in its affairs. A certain John Pennicott had been appointed to the place of bellringer at the request of the 'Lady Elizabeth, 6 daughter of our Sovereign Lord the King,' when she was only thirteen. Almost always before the opening of Parliament she came to the Abbey on horseback, the rest of her train on foot. She entered at the Northern door, and through the west end of the Choir, receiving the sceptre from the Dean, which she returned to him as she went out by the Southern Transept. Carpets and cushions were placed for her by the Altar. The day of her accession (November 17), and of her coronation (January 15), were long observed as anniversaries in the Abbey. On the first of these days the bells are still rung, and, till within the last few years, a dinner of persons connected with Westminster School took place in the College Hall. Under her auspices the restored Abbey Machyn, November 1561. 2 Strype's Annals, i. 401. See Chapter III. Malcolm, p. 87. Wiffin's House of Russell, ii. 514. 5 Chapter Book, 1571. Chapter Book, November 5, 1544. 7 Ibid., 1562, 1571, 1572, 1584, and 1597; Malcolm, p. 261; Strype's An nals, i. 438; State Papers, 1588. Her 8 See Monk's Bentley, p. 535. The two last centenaries of the foundation were celebrated with much pomp in 1760, and again in 1860. Chapter Book, June 3, 1760. — On this occasion the wax effigy of Eliza 2 and the new Cathedral' both vanished away. One of the first acts of her reign was to erect a new institution in place of her father's cathedral and her sister's convent. เ 'By the inspiration of the Divine clemency' [so she describes her motive and her object], 'on considering and revolving in our mind 'from what various dangers of our life and many kinds of death 'with which we have been on every side encompassed, the great and ' good God with His powerful arm hath delivered us His handmaid, 'destitute of all human assistance, and protected under the shadow of 'His wings, hath at length advanced us to the height of our royal 'majesty, and by His sole goodness placed us in the throne of this our kingdom, we think it our duty in the first place . . . . to the 'intent that true religion and the true worship of Him, without which we are either like to brutes in cruelty or to beasts in folly, may ' in the aforesaid monastery, where for many years since they had 'been banished, be restored and reformed, and brought back to the 'primitive form of genuine and brotherly sincerity; correcting, and, ' as much as we can, entirely forgetting, the enormities in which the life and profession of the monks had for a long time in a deplorable manner erred. And therefore we have used our endeavours, as far as human infirmity can foresee, that hereafter the documents of the 'sacred oracles, out of which as out of the clearest fountains the 'purest waters of Divine truth may and ought to be drawn, and 'the pure sacraments of our salutary redemption be there administered, that the youth, who in the stock of our republic, like certain 'tender twigs, daily increase, may be liberally trained up in useful 'letters, to the greater ornament of the same republic, that the aged 'destitute of strength, those especially who shall have well and gravely served about our person, or otherwise about the public 'business of our kingdom, may be suitably nourished in things necessary for sustenance; lastly, that offices of charity to the poor ' of Christ,' and general works of public utility, be continued. 6 6 beth, now amongst the waxworks of the Abbey, was made by the 'gentle'men of the Choir.' (Chapter Book, June 3, 1760.) 1 The name cathedral' lingered in the Abbey for some time. It is called so at Elizabeth's coronation and funeral, and by Shakspeare (see Chapter II. p. 74). An injunction of Elizabeth orders women and children to be excluded from the Cathedral Church.' (State Papers, 1562; see Ibid. 1689.) It appears as late as in the dedication of South's Sermon to Dolben; and even on Lord Mansfield's monument. 2 Her portrait in the Deanery, traditionally said to have been given by her to Dean Goodman, was really (as appears from an inscription at the back) given to the Deanery by Dean Wilcocks. She then specially names the monumental character of the Collegiate Henceforth the institution became, strictly speaking, a great St. Peter. academical as well as an ecclesiastical body. The old Dormitory of the monks had already been divided into two compartments. These two compartments were now to be repaired and furnished for collegiate purposes, upon contribution of 'such godly-disposed persons as have and will contribute 'thereunto.' The smaller or northern portion was devoted to the Library.' The Dean, Goodman, soon begun to form The Chapter a Library, and had given towards it a Complutensian Library, Bible' and a 'Hebrew Vocabulary.' This Library was 1 apparently intended to have been in some other part of the conventual buildings, and it is not till some years later that 1517, it was ordered to be transferred to the great room before 2 the old Dortor.' Its present aspect is described in a wellknown passage of Washington Irving :— I found myself in a lofty antique hall, the roof supported by massive joists of old English oak. It was soberly lighted by a row of Gothic windows at a considerable height from the floor, and which apparently opened upon the roofs of the Cloisters. An ancient picture, of some reverend dignitary of the Church in his robes,3 hung over the fireplace. Around the hall and in a small gallery were the books, arranged in carved oaken cases. They consisted principally of old polemical writers, and were much more worn by time than use. In the centre of the Library was a solitary table, with two or three books on it, an inkstand without ink, and a few pens parched by long disuse. The place seemed fitted for quiet study and meditation. It was buried deep among the massive walls of 1 Chapter Book, 1571. 2 The successive stages of the formation of the Library appear in the Chapter Book, Dec. 2, 1574, May 26, 2 Dean Williams. (See p. 495.) 1574. 1591. |