Alice Bridge of Norwich: a tale of the time of Charles the First

Front matter

CHURCH HISTORY BY THE REV. ANDREW REED, B.A. THE STORY OF CHRISTIANITY FROM THE APOSTLES TO THE PRESENT DAY. In one volume, price 6s. ; or in two parts, price $s. each. REVIEWS AND NOTICES. ** Throughout as studiously impartial as Church historians. The whole survey is judicious in the selection of facts and incicharacterized by a sine Catholic spirit. " — dents."' — Leeds Mercury. Evangelical Magazine. {Edited by Dr. '• Compiled by a cultured and tolerant Reynolds.) Nonconformist."— Church Times. • <A most necessary and interesting work." "Mr. Reed writes throughout tempe- —Rev. C. H. Spurgeon: Sword and rately and fairly. "— The Record, Trowel. "Deserves success."— Public Opinion, "A volume which may well become a „ text for ministers who wish to pursue the "A truly valuable volume. —Watcheducation of their young people in this man. direction." — Christian World.

"WeU suited for popular reading." — (1TU .- _ . c , v F & The conception is a good one ; and Scotsman. the author deserves thanks for the way in "For a class-book it would be invaluwhich he has worked it out." — Methodist able." — Norfolk News. Recorder. "Supplies an almost vacant niche in "A difficult work, very well done in our popular literature." — Christian. deed." — Dr. Angus. " Supplies it well."— Edinburgh Daily « \t ;s just the work for our 450 mission- Review. aries." —London City Mission. "A very useful work of reference."- "It will supply alack I have long felt ir_ iu:fw' teaching Church History in our college." — " Seldom has so much momentous history Dr. Falding (Rot/ierham College). been compresses into such small compass, ««■._. 1 without injury to perspicuity of style, or 1 hanks for your most excellent to the pleasure ofthe reader."— Newcastle manual."— Rev. J. Paton {Nottingham Daily Chronicle.

College). "Told with much vivacity, with brief "The result is that a large amount of and well-chosen excerpts from writers of information is packed in a small compass, eminence, or from the words ofthe great and while accuracy of detail is not sacrificed actors themselves. . . . He has prefaced to popularity, yet, on the other hand, the the work with a useful chronological table work is far from being a dry synopsis of and a valuable classified list ofthe principal facts and dates." — Sussex Daily News. THE STORY OF CHRISTIANITY. REVIEWS AND NOTICE S-oontinued. lopment, and in this w^ think he has entirely succeeded." — Literary World. '* We are particularly glad to see a second edition, in one volume, of Mr. Reed's exceedingly able and useful compendium of ecclesiastical history, and to have this opportunity of bringing it under the notice of our readers.

Chapter I

, TOMBLAND CLERK-ALE. On every spray blooms lovely May, And balmy zephyrs breathe ; Ethereal splendour all above, And beauty all beneath. The cuckoo's song, the woods among, Sounds sweetly as of old, As bright and warm the sunbeams shine, — Oh, why should hearts grow cold ? " Old Song. N old rhyme says, " Caistor was a city when Norwich was none, And Norwich was built of Caistor stone," — in which is perpetuated the removal of the city from the Roman station of Caistor (Castrum), to the Norman vicus of the present Norwich. Vainglorious little Caistor, whose stones and reputation were thus shamefully plundered, is still a village some three miles from Norwich. The present City was brought together for shelter under the Castle, a royal fortress in a commanding situation, which then afforded the protection required for the prosecution of peaceful trades.

The City was once one of England's chief places of wealth and strength. In the times of which we shall speak it was remarkable for a steadfast adherence to the cause of liberty as opposed to the despotism of the Stuarts. Norwich still remains a populous active manufacturing city, though its monopoly of the Flemish wares and of the Indian bombazine trade has passed away ; and it still retains a con spicuous love of constitutional liberty, but of that quality also it can pretend to no monopoly at present. Just outside the precincts of its Cathedral, called the Close, there is a large open space surrounded by respectable mansions, which bears the quaint and melancholy name of Tombland, either from its having been a burying-ground or from its being the scene of desperate conflicts between the City and the Close — a sort of debateable land claimed by both parties.

There are no graves now on Tombland, nor was it at all a melancholy spot on a certain Sunday of May 1627, for the parish of St. George's was holding its clerk-ale on the Green. The Green is intersected by a busy highway running down a gentle slope, and on either side tables were set out on the grassy triangles like booths at a fair, sheltered from the wind and weather by coverings of boughs or tent cloth. The tables were covered with pewter and earthenware mugs, while great jacks and tankards full of ale, together with large dishes of bread, meat, cheese, cakes, and butter, completed the provision for the expected feast. These attractive viands were sent in freely by the parishioners as presents to the Clerk, whose privilege it was to give the entertainment and realize the benefit of it. Like the landlord of a public-house, he charged ample payment on his guests, and thus by a double profit eked out his poor stipend.

A large share of the good things came from the Alder man's house, situated in Tombland, and those thought themselves happy who feasted on some of Dame Sher wood's cakes and pastry, for which she was famed through the City. Another liberal donor was the great Flemish manufacturer, Van Diense, who employed hundreds of weavers, and was at the head of that important industry. Nor were the Rector and his lady wanting in hearty liberality on the occasion of their Clerk's benefit. The Clerk's wife TOaMBLAND CLERK-ALE. 3 with some of her gossips was busily arranging the provisions in momentary expectation of the close of the afternoon service, and the arrival of parson, clerk, and congregation, who in those days finished their Sabbath by a direct transi tion from the house of God to a sort of Vanity Fair.

"Now, Maud," said the dame to one of her helpers whom she suspected of helping herself, " hands off Madam Sherwood's bakery." " Good lack, friend, I was but giving your boy Will a bit of broken cake." " Sukey, put these three cushions on the seats, — one for the Rector, who'll be weary of standing and discoursing ; one for the Alderman, who has had his first twinge of the gout ; and the other for my old man, who ought to be lifted up to-day — his fortieth clerk-ale." "And it'll be his best as far as I see," said Gammer Golding ; " never was our church so crammed by all sorts of citizens as gape after our good Rector — and never such store of ale and eatables — and this great pasty full of game ordered right over from Holland by the Fleming. See Oh lack-a-day — mercy on me ! " As she spoke, the great pasty took to sliding under her finger down the unlevel table, and all but fell to the earth.

She did her best with her hands and knees to hold it up; but the thick gravy of which it was full being melted by the sun, ran out, and streamed over her best dress ; and as Will Barnard dived under the table to assist her, the oily fluid poured over his brown hair and face, anointing him with a beauty hitherto unknown. After all these efforts they shrank from the greasy torrent, and down came the pasty, its contents being strewed over the grass and sand, and its thick crust turning over to open view. "Good lack! what shall we do?" cried the Clerk's wife, coming up to the scene of disaster and routing several cocks and hens, from the savoury morsels. " Their worships will be here anon. Help me, there's good friends, to put back the game into the great dish. Thank Heaven, the crust is whole.

Never mind if there's no gravy, — they'll be none the wiser. The Dutch are a dry people, or it oozed out on the voyage ; and if the meats have a little sand or gravel mixed with them, we must all ' eat a peck of dirt in our lives.' But oh, my boy Will, you look hand somer than I ever saw you ; you are a shining light. There, go to the pump and wash your face and neck. Say nought about the mischance, neighbours, and you'll see the pasty will be eaten without a question to anybody." The day was bright and balmy — one of those spring days when the wasting east wind has ceased to blow, and nature is revived by the approach of a sure herald of the coming summer; the birds celebrate their escape from dull skies and chill weather in lusty songs ; and the opening buds clothe again with delicate green foliage the trees so long black and bare.

The sun was yet high, for afternoon in those days wras literally kept ; and his rays gleamed from the windows of the houses, lighting up the bowery decorations erected for the feast ; and the tall maypole, festooned with flowers, marking the spot where games and dances were soon to rejoice the youths and maidens. The merry sunshine struck down on the side of the Close, revealing the beauty and grandeur of the two handsome Gothic gatehouses whose arches span its entrance, and one of which offers a lovely perspective of the basement of the Cathedral, with its vast portal, through whose open doors may be seen a dim vista of the symmetry of the Saxon interior. Well may the citizens be proud of their ancient fane, their elevated and noble castle, their spacious market, their numerous churches and handsome shops, their vast hall (St. Andrew's), suited to grace popular meetings and to respond to strains of music, while they awe the stranger by the information that Norwich is a county of itself, as well as a metropolis of East Anglia.

But hark! the deep notes of the St. George's church TOMBLAND CLERK -A LE. 5 organ tremble through the air, blending with a choral burst of voices in the closing anthem of the worship. There is a pause. The doors are thrown open. Forth rush, like children from school, a host of youths, laughing, whistling, screaming, and letting off the spirits so long and gravely restrained. They have an object. They bear a chair orna mented with ribbons and fastened on poles. Now appears Jemmy Barnard, the Clerk, in his canonical robes, with dignity due to his fortieth feast-day. He takes his seat in the car, and, being hoisted on the lads' shoulders, is borne, with much shouting, round the open square. At the Alderman's house, where the company appear at the window, the Clerk makes a point of rising to bow to his patron, and then is the opportunity of the mischievous youngsters to tip and shake the car, so as to disturb his equilibrium.

Used as he has been to these tricks, a heavier lurch than usual makes him rock and sway so fearfully that his anxious wife, eyeing the procession from a distance, cannot help screaming, " Ye malapert urchins, hold the chair right ; my Jem be not so young as he was. Our Will will give it you if you hurt his father." Whether by her threats or the Clerk's recovered firmness, he was safely brought to the head of the upper table, where his wife took her seat by him, and set in order some of his bands and ruffles which had become disarranged in the chairing, saying, "You should have held fast by the chair back, my old man." Now hasten from church the common folk, arm in arm, to see and share the sport ; then more leisurely appear the better dressed ; the good Doctor Hope, with his daughter May ; the lawyer Taylor, with his wife ; the great Flemish merchant Van Diense, with tall Gerhardt, his head man of business, and some of his lusty weavers ; Mr. Ridgeley, the rich goldsmith ; and many more.

These all line the path from the church gate, and pause, as if somewhat of more importance was arriving from behind. Presently comes a beadle, with silver mace, bearing himself erect and solemn ; then about a dozen men, dressed in tight-fitting jerkin, and hose of white slashed with yellow, having masks on their faces, and pointed wooden swords in their hands. These are the whifflers, or Mayor's police ; and by thrusting and striking with their wooden swords, yet never touching any one, and by their wonderfully agile movements, they keep the crowd in excellent order, and also in good humour. They soon make a clear way for the procession, while they are favourites with the mob. Next appears a curious model of a huge dragon, awful to behold, and borne by a man whose head and shoulders are inside, whence he can make the great jaws open and shut to the equal diversion and terror of the children.

To avoid his pursuit, some halfpence must be tossed into his mouth, when he turns elsewhere. As he moves into the crowd, some of the bolder lads lay hold of his long tail, but most of the smaller folk run screaming and flying at the top of their speed, and shouting, " Hare come old Snap ! " Their speed is hastened and their cries silenced as the great dragon, pursuing the hindmost, catches a little fellow by the breeches and holds him up in mid air, screaming aloud at his perilous elevation. But two or three elder boys turn bravely on the monster, and rescue their little comrade from the dragon's jaws at the expense of the boy's clothes, a con siderable rent in which is only too evident when he is set down on the ground. The dragon flourishes the trophy sticking to his great teeth as a warning to all who might take unwarrantable liberties with him.

A few Aldermen follow in the train of the Mayor, and some of the Council in their crimson robes ; and finally the portly Mayor, Francis Cocke, in his grand velvet robe, and with his massive gold chain, saluted by general cheers, in answer to which he bows cordially right and left. With him walks his friend Alderman Sherwood, together with the Rector, the Rev. William Bridge, in earnest converse, — an TOMBLAND CLERK-ALE. 7 agreeable-looking man, in his ecclesiastical dress, with his lady on his arm, and his pretty little daughter Alice by his side. These brought up the procession, and passing through the respectful and loyal lines of citizens, they took their seats at the Clerk's table. The parishioners followed their example, and were soon all seated. Those not of the parish were driven by the whifflers into a large outer ring of spectators.

The windows of the houses overhead were open, and streamers and flags waved in the gentle breeze. Any stranger looking on must have owned the fitness of the title, " Merrie England." Yes, it was then " Merrie England." The nation was one undivided whole, except a few Catholics who hid and plotted in secret. The Protestant Church was one with the nation ; the civic body was one whole which embodied the traditions of Queen Elizabeth, who had healed all civil dissensions. The bitter spirit of civil war and insurrection had not rent society and the Church into permanent divisions. The officers of Church and State received the ready submission of all citizens who, without exception, were eligible to serve in those offices, or to enjoy every national privilege. A more jovial assembly than this parish gathering could have been seen in no other country of the world.

Most of the men wore some sort of defensive arm, from the knotted club torn from the forest oak to the polished rapier, or the dagger or heavy pistol in the waist-belt. They were mostly men of strong build, and with manly courage in their looks. Instead of jealous reserve, they showed a neighbourly frank ness ; and while there were many diverse grades, yet the rich and poor seemed to respect and be attached to each other, rather than to cherish mutual aversion. So prosperous and merry was the surface view of English society, even at a time when there were at work some terrible wrongs and perils, with bitter consequences below that surface. Soon was the desperate haughtiness and recklessness of one Rehoboam, with his evil counsellors, to shatter that prosperous fabric of national welfare. Even the domestic happiness so precious to the English, and which more than anything else has entitled our land to be called " Merrie England " amid much trouble and conflict, was now to be subjected to the rudest trials ; the father was to be set against the son, the brother against the brother, and even tender women were to think it their duty to be hostile to their husbands and children.

" Silence for the Rector, the Rev. W. Bridge ! " is shouted by the town-crier with a voice that echoes over the wide Green. Every head bows, and the clergyman utters the "grace before meat." This done, they fall to stoutly, and the good things disappear. Even the pasty is devoured eagerly, to the amusement of the women attendants, who, handing the last piece to the churchwarden, whisper, " Didn't we say so ? — no one asks for the gravy, nor objects to chewing a little gravel." The Clerk's agents carefully gather the pence, silver, and gold of the guests in abundance. The ale goes round and tongues are loosed. Mirth becomes fast and furious. The Sabbath begins to be a little forgotten. The time has come for the better class to depart, and avoid the " end of a feast," which not seldom becomes " the beginning of a fray."

" Silence for his Worship the Mayor ! " shouts the public crier again. His Worship rises with foaming cup in hand, and quaffs it off to " our right honoured and beloved Sove reign His Majesty King Charles I.," at which toast there are repeated shouts of " Huzza ! God bless the King ! Long live the King ! " with a few groans of " Down with the Queen and the Papishes." Filling his glass again, the Mayor essays to suit the popular taste in the following address, not a little charac teristic of the restricted partialities of Norwich, a city removed from either the intercourse or competition which moderates self-complacency : — TOMBLAND CLERK-ALL-. 9 " There is in this world no country like our merrie, merrie England." Loud shouts arose, "Down with foray ners ! " " Down with the Pope and his crew !

" " There is in our England," continued the Mayor, " no city like our dear Norwich — our good old Norwich ! " Louder still were the cries, " Down with Yarmouth ! " " Up with our privileges ! " " There is in Norwich," continued the speaker, " no parish like this fair St. George's, Tombland, with its worthy Alderman, my friend Sherwood." On this the shouts were yet stronger, — " Huzza for Alderman Sherwood!" "Down with St. Edmund's, — down with St. Peter's, down with the Close — down with the Close ! " which swelled into a roar that all the people of the Close might hear. The Mayor concluded his speech with, "Next to our worthy and beloved Rector." — At which renewed shouts arose of "Hurrah! a trusty Bridge — best preacher in the city!" — " There is no public officer more esteemed in this parish for his honesty and goodwill than James Barnard, for these forty years our good Clerk.

Let us drink to his health and wealth.'' At this finish deafening shouts were heard of " Hurrah ! Jemmy Barney for ever!" " Well done old codger!" " Hurrah for his wife ! " " Jemmy Barney for ever ! " When the excitement was over, the little round nervous Clerk was hoisted on the table and stammered a few words: " Thanks — honour — Worship — reverence — parish," con cluding with many ducks of the head and by drinking, " My masters, here's to ye all;" while his wife continually urged him from behind, saying, " Speak up Jem ! — what are ye afeard on ? " The assembly now broke up, though a few remained at the tables drinking, arguing, and singing songs and catches. The better class strolled homeward, and the more active prepared for the dances and games which crowned the day. The Alderman took the Rector and his wife home with him.

As they were turning from the Green, two fine boys rushed up crying, " Father, pray let us stay ! the morris dancers are coming, and there will be leaping and shooting ; our Tutor will take care of us." Their father assented, and they then attacked the Rector and his wife, " And please let Alice stay with us ; we will take the greatest care of her." The little girl's eyes brightened as she let them lead her away, giving a hand to each. They ran away to the may pole, followed by a stout grave young man, whose dark brow and uneasy expression of face little agreed with his duties as the companion and guide of livery and innocent youth. He was the boys' Tutor, the Rev. Baldwin Green.

Chapter II. The Alderman And The Fleming

" In the long vista of the years to roll, Let me not see my country's honour fade ! O let me see our land retain her soul, Her pride, her freedom, — and not freedom's shade ! Let me not see the patriot's high bequest, Great Liberty, — how great in plain attire ; With the base purple of a Court oppressed, — Bowing her head and ready to expire." Keats, ET us follow the old motto, Seniores priores, and visit first the hospitable mansion of the then Alderman of Tombland. A few steps brought the party to Mr. Sherwood's house on the summit of the inclined slope of Tombland. It was built in a style resembling the Dutch architecture. Entering the spacious hall paved with stone the party conversed awhile on the events of the day. " Mistress Sherwood, I must congratulate you again," said the Rector's wife, "on your beautiful cakes and on your bountiful present to the feast.

You are very good and clever." " Oh, my dear, I deserve no thanks ; there is nothing I like so much : my good mother taught me that, and little else. I'm never so happy as in my kitchen ; a feast is a godsend to me — not to eat it, but to make and cook it. There's my goodman, who likes public life, justice rooms, Mayor's dinners and councils — let him enjoy them ; give me a new recipe to make up, or a banquet to furnish out, or a sick person to cater for — there's my element." "Sarah's blessing and Rebekah's be upon you," observed the Rector, " my good friend — only you don't deceive your husband with kid stuffed and sauced into venison." " Not I ; my dishes are all genuine and wholesome, I'll warrant," said the lady. " Now, did you taste that pie of the Fleming's ? I did, for curiosity — there wasn't a drop of gravy, and I broke a tooth over it."

"I hope the Clerk will reap a good harvest," said the Rector. " Yes," replied his wife ; " his son Will told me it was the best ever gathered, and he was taking it in a bag to the Fleming's for safety." " That's right," remarked the Alderman ; " there are perilous thieves about — disbanded soldiers, I hear. Ladies, go with us upstairs, where we can see the Green from our window." " I must take Mistress Bridge to my kitchen first," replied his wife, " to taste some soup which I fear is on the turn, and some new spices, the hottest I ever had." "My dear," said the Rector, "I wish you joy. I hope the soup will not give you a turn, nor the spice irritate your excellent temper. We shall welcome you presently." The gentlemen ascended a polished oak staircase, and entered a large room with cheerful bay windows thrown open and freely admitting the joyous sights and sounds of the sportive company outside.

Here the Rector could watch his flock, and the Alderman see after the good be haviour of the people. Both soon spied out their happy children. " There's my pretty friend Alice," said Mr. Sherwood. " Why, Snap is paying her his respects ! The girl retreats, but keeps her face to the foe. Well done, Edward ! Brave knight ! he throws himself between. How's that ? Snap turns to fly. See, that wild sprig George has slipped round and taken the monster by his tail. Snap writhes and plunges in vain, and marches off another way. Would that all public monsters were as easily managed ! Let us take seats and chat over this tankard of sack and these pipes of soothing tobacco sent me by our worthy friend Van Diense, who will soon join us." So they drew forward two large, creaking, high-backed elbow chairs, in whose seats were clean rushes ; and they sat down before a rough oak table, resting on settles of the same wood.

Their feet rested on the unplaned boards of the floor, also strewn with rushes. The ceiling of the room showed the bare plaster in cracks, and was daubed with indifferent whitewash. The walls were wainscoted with deep moulded shields and cornices, while in several of the panels were rude paintings of commercial or religious, sub jects. Opposite the window was a seaport scene of a Dutch quay, at which a tub-like vessel was unloading merchandise. The owner was descending the steps to meet the captain and foreign merchants, in outlandish costumes and with very undefinable faces. Over the mantelpiece was another painting, larger and more imposing. After much study, it might be supposed to represent the Magi visiting the infant Saviour. A grand ruin, with a lofty Grecian pillar in the centre of an Italian landscape by no means Oriental, gave shelter in the dingy corner to a mother and babe.

Three or four armed knights on rearing horses were preparing to alight. Their attendants, bearing valuable presents, were with difficulty discerned, being small figures on a very confused background. The tell-tale of the whole piece, however, was a flaming star of bright yellow, whose straight ray rested like a heavy beam on the head of the babe, and threatened to crush the whole company. The room, thus sombre and rather low, was made darker by the small panes, which, when the casement was closed, refused free access to the pure light of day. The figures of the two men in this chamber would have seemed to us quaint and droll. Their clothes were of rough texture, and of loose and awkward fit. Their hair was long and flowing in curls, but the faces were as manly and intelligent as any of the present day.

The Rector had the Saxon lightness of hair, eye, and complexion ; the Alderman was darker and larger made. The former had a trimmed and pointed beard, while the latter wore his in full and curly fashion. When fairly seated at ease, the Alderman first spoke, as pointing with his pipe to the motley and frolicsome assembly without, he said doubtfully, " And so you really approve of these kirk-ales, bid-ales, and clerk-ales? You don't think they produce more harm than good ? I hope I may find it so in the justice-room to-morrow." " Abuses," answered the clergyman, " condemn no custom which does not properly lead to them. These festivals recall to the people the dedication of their churches ; they give occasion for liberality to their church officers and their poor neighbours ; they incline many to attend service part of the day at least ; they relieve the severity of religion, connect it with sociality, bring rich and poor together, compose feuds and differences, and resemble the love-feasts of the early Christians."

" What if I said, Mr. Rector, that they create quarrels, lead to excess and waste, sever the rich and poor, destroy the love of worship at other times, and are like the old Saturnalia of the heathen ? You cannot deny the riots, the tippling, sometimes the murders, which profane the Sabbath, and endanger the peace of the City." The clergyman looked as an amiable man looks when an awkward discussion is impending — for an escape. His favourite method was a joke. So, crossing his legs, and with a little toss of his head, he replied, with playful distinctness, "Our Alderman prefers corporation-ales to clerk ales : a drunken cobbler at the latter figures as a culprit, while a drunken alderman at the former is tenderly carried to bed as if he were sick. But after all, should not a holy day be also a holiday ?

" " I know well, my reverend friend, that it is a dangerous matter to meddle with these ecclesiastical customs, now that the powerful Master Laud gives them his support. The justices, nevertheless, everywhere oppose them. The people of course like the revels, but why the clergy should turn the Sabbath into a riotous wake or fair I cannot understand. You will bring down a new Book of Sports upon you." " Does not our retirement at the close of the clerk-ales end our approval and responsibility ? " rejoined the clergy man. " We are not responsible for what goes on after ward." " But it does go on, though," answered his opponents; "and I think we are responsible for not bringing it to an end." " Surely that, my dear friend, were pushing into the rankest Puritanism. I thought you held that way quite common and unclean."