Highways and Byways in Cambridge and Ely Part 30

Through a low doorway at the end we pa.s.s to the circle of the lantern.

Here a shutter-like panel can be opened and we can look downwards if we will, but we shall probably elect rather to spend these rare minutes in gazing upwards, on the figure of Christ in the key boss of the vaulting, now that for once in our lives we find ourselves near enough to John of Burwell's carving to see how bold and yet how reverent it is.[229]

[Footnote 229: See p. 358.]

One question forces itself upon us, how was it placed here? How was Mr. Gambier Parry able to paint the glowing angels on these panels? We see in imagination the scaffolding, the ropes, the pulleys, that have been in use here, where now all is calm and rest, and we feel that William Watson might have had this very scene before him when he wrote the lines:

"No record Art keeps Of her travails and woes: There is toil on the steeps, On the summit repose."

The tourist has one further duty to perform; for he must not leave Ely without walking round the cathedral outside. He will then be perplexed by the anachronisms before him; he will see Perpendicular windows inserted in Norman aisles, Decorated tracery in Early English masonry; he will observe this from without more plainly than from within, and he will realise how the monks who designed and built it all had a firm belief in themselves, and in their own age, so that they did not shrink from what we should now count as acts of Vandalism. They no more hesitated to displace the work of their forefathers by their own, than we hesitate to light our houses and churches with electricity, instead of being content with the gas that was good enough for our grandparents.

As we turn to the north, on leaving the cathedral by the western door, we shall be puzzled by the strange appearance of the steeple on its northern side. For Ely Minster, we cannot deny it, is lop-sided; it has no north-western transept to correspond with the south-western. On the north side of the tower there is masonry proving that once it had the support of such a transept; but there is no record of its fall or demolition, so we are left to surmise that perchance it shared the fate of the adjoining church of St. Cross, described as a "lean-to,"

dark and "uncomley, very unholdsome for want of thorrowe ayre" which we know to have been pulled down during the reign of Elizabeth.

We must now go eastward, and, keeping close to the cathedral as we follow the path that surrounds it, we shall be able to drink in the view, described earlier, of the Minster as seen from the east. From this point we can grasp it all, and we can feel ourselves in close touch with the builders of yore, with Simeon, and Richard, and Hugh, and Alan, and John; for the work of each is here before our eyes at once. They now rest from their labours, leaving them as a priceless legacy to benefit ourselves and others. Look at Richard's transepts resting on old Simeon's foundations; look at Hugh's lancet windows, at Alan's incomparable lantern, at the Lady Chapel which John was able to build through his finding of that brazen urn. The s.p.a.ce that lies between us and these men of mark seems bridged by a span as we contemplate their work and try to understand it.

As we complete our circuit of the East end, and stand at that of the south transept, we shall be struck with a conspicuous range of ruined arches built into the Canons' residences to the south-east. These are the remains of the Infirmary; which we have seen to play such an important part in the life of the Abbey. It had its own chapel, hall and kitchen, and stood on the site of the original Saxon church. The s.p.a.ce between it and the Minster was called the Slype, and served as a kind of market, whither travelling merchants brought their wares for the inspection of the Prior, Sacrist, and other chief officers of the Abbey. These officers, we may mention, did not share the common life of the monks, but had houses of their own, fragments of which still dot the "College,"--mostly, like the Infirmary, now built into the residences of the various Canons.

Not a stone's throw from the Galilee Porch, just across the street towards the west, stands the episcopal palace. At one time this palace was actually connected with the cathedral by a covered gallery crossing the street. We can see from an old print how seriously this erection must have blocked the traffic, and on this account it was finally removed; yet its name adheres to the thoroughfare over which it once pa.s.sed, and which is still called "the Gallery." The Bishop of Ely is fortunate in having his house close to his cathedral, unlike too many of the episcopal residences, which are at an inconvenient distance from the central city of the See. Moreover, his palace is of reasonable size; not too large nor yet too small for the hospitality to which a bishop must be given if he is to live up to the Scriptural standard; and it has another great practical advantage in being near to a station where several lines converge, and where all trains stop.

The Palace was built in the main by Bishop Alc.o.c.k toward the end of the fifteenth century. It is of chequered red brick with stone facings; his own arms, three heads of the barn-door c.o.c.k, and the arms of the See, three crowns, are worked in stone on the face of the front wing looking north; there project, moreover, three niches (now empty) with the canopies he loved so well. Thirty years later Bishop Goodrich (who robbed these niches of their statuary) added the western gallery, a hundred feet long, with its beautiful oriel window, on whose outer panels he caused to be engraved his original version of our Duty toward G.o.d and our neighbour, which we may still read for ourselves if we can contrive to see through certain bushes that hide it. These inscriptions are on two slabs of freestone beneath the two side-lights of the oriel window in the gallery of the palace. Unhappily they are rapidly perishing under the action of the weather, and will soon be altogether lost. This is unfortunate, as they are of no small interest, representing, as it would seem, Goodrich's original draft for the "Duties," which were afterwards expanded into the form so familiar to us in the Catechism. Nor does any one seem to have been at the pains to record them verbatim while they remained legible; so that now many conjectural words have to be supplied, by considering the number of letters in the s.p.a.ces worn away. In the following reproduction these conjectural words are placed within brackets and italicised. The duty towards G.o.d, which is on the eastern side, is in Roman capitals, and probably had eleven lines, the first three of which are wholly gone. It runs thus:--

[_The . duty . toward . G.o.d . is . to .

believe . in . him . to . love . him .

with . all . our . hert . & . soul .

and_] . all . our . power . to . wors hippe . G.o.d . to . give . him . tha nkes . to . put . our . whole . trust in . him . and . to . cal . on . him . to honoure . his . holy . name [_and his_] . worde . and . to . serve . G.o.d [_truly_] . all . the . days . of . our lyfe.

The duty towards our neighbour, on the western side, is in Old English letters, in fourteen lines, as follows:--

The . duety . [_towards . our . neigh_]boure . is to . love . him . a[_s . we . do . ourself . an_]d . to do . to . all . men . as . I . wo[_uld . they . do ._ ]to . me to . honour . and . obay . [_the . King . and . all . set_] under . him ? ? ?

beme ? ? [_and . to . order . ourselves_]

lowly . to . all . [_our . betters_] . to . hurt . no body . by . word . nor . d[_eed . to . be . jus_]te . in . all our . delyng . to . bear . no . [_malice_] . in . our . hert to . kep . our . handes . from . stelyng . & . our tong . from . evil . speaking . to . kep . our . bo dys . in . temperance . not . to . covet . other . mens .

goods . but . laboure . truly . for . our . lyvyng . in . y^e state . of . lyfe . it . plese . G.o.d . to . call . us . on . to .

Of the many residences once belonging to the See, this palace is all that is left. In looking back, we must remember that in days when travelling was difficult it may have been of real advantage to the Bishop to have places of abode dotted all over his diocese, where he could stay, and where he could exercise his episcopal functions. We read, for instance, how, in 1487 and the following year, Bishop Alc.o.c.k admitted between forty and fifty persons to minor or higher orders in his chapel at Downham Manor.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _St. Mary's Church._]

Beyond the Palace stands St. Mary's Church, built by Bishop Eustace about 1200, while Norman architecture was developing into Early English. It has been remarked that "its architect was disposed to adopt the new style without quitting the old one." The columns of the nave are simple Norman; the chancel and chapel on the south are distinctly Early English; the tower and spire are of Decorated work; and we meet with inserted Perpendicular windows. In the midst of a well-kept churchyard may be seen a broken and ancient font, with an inscription embossed in lead stating that it has been so placed that it may receive only the water of heaven.

The citizens of Ely throughout the Middle Ages were well provided with churches, having for their devotions both St. Mary's and also St.

Cross, of which we have spoken before. The name St. Cross has an interesting history. When first the abbey was built, there stood against the stone rood-screen thrown across the nave an altar known as the Altar of the Holy Cross; here the inhabitants of the city were invited to worship, while the monks said their office quite apart within the screen. But, as time went on, the monks found that this twofold worship was not convenient, and, wishing to have the Abbey to themselves, they built, immediately outside it on the north, a church for their lay neighbours, "for doing such things as should be done in a parish church," and named it St. Cross, after the altar within the Minster which was thus superseded. With the dispersion of the monks the nave came again into public use, and the church of St. Cross was permitted to decay, and was finally removed.

Adjoining the churchyard of St. Mary's stands the vicarage. It is a rambling house of moderate size, quaintly made of rough hewn beams with reed-stiffened clay in between, and opening on to the street.

This house has a notable history. It was first built as a t.i.the house, and was within the same ring-fence as the great barn or granary for the storing of the t.i.the sheaves belonging to the monastery. In this house lived the farmer of the t.i.thes, who bore the t.i.tle of Steward, and collected t.i.the, first for the monks, later for the Dean and Chapter of Ely; and as this office became hereditary the name of Steward was taken as a family surname. The last of these Stewards was Sir Thomas, who died in 1636, leaving no son to succeed him; but his daughter Elizabeth was the mother of Oliver Cromwell, and Oliver by a very natural arrangement stepped into his grandfather's office. He accordingly left his home at St. Ives, sixteen miles distant, bringing his wife, his mother, and several children, to live in the t.i.the house at Ely; the older lady thus returning to the home of her childhood.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _The Cathedral from the West Fen Road._]

For ten years the Cromwell family occupied this very house, which still remains pretty much what it was in their time. Here two children were born, and one died. Mrs. Cromwell was an excellent housewife, being we are told "as capable of descending to the kitchen with propriety as she was of acting in her exalted position with dignity."

To Cromwell's duties as t.i.the farmer were added, in the course of time, those of Governor of the Isle of Ely. On St. Mary's Green, in front of this house, he used to drill and instruct the levies of his newly-formed "Eastern Counties' a.s.sociation," which by and by developed into his formidable "Ironsides." The result of his drilling speaks for itself in the history of the Civil War; of his precepts, one at least, commonly attributed to him, was good, "Say your prayers, and keep your powder dry."

The same house served as the residence of the t.i.the farmers till the pa.s.sing of the t.i.the Commutation Acts, when, after the death of the last of the officials in 1840, the Dean and Chapter sold it. Only in 1905 was it purchased by the Vicar of St. Mary's, to become the vicarage of his church; appropriate in every way from size and position and a.s.sociation for this purpose. The t.i.the Barn was a ma.s.sive structure of stone thatched with reeds, but no trace of it is left; for it was pulled down about the middle of the nineteenth century, when t.i.the having ceased to be paid in kind[230] it no longer served any useful purpose; and on its site were built the almshouses and national schools, now to be seen quite close to the vicarage.

[Footnote 230: Within living memory the t.i.the paid to the parson or other t.i.the owner, was actually the tenth sheaf in every row throughout the harvest field. The corn might not be carried till the owner's agent had "docked" these sheaves, (_i.e._ marked each by crowning it with a dock leaf). He might begin his count with any one of the first ten, for obvious reasons. The docked sheaves were conveyed to the t.i.the barn either before or after the carrying of the others.]

Cromwell was no friend to the cathedral services, nor did his residence near at hand tend to make him love them. He at the t.i.the house, and Bishop Wren at the Palace, must have lived in avowed antagonism; but they ceased to be neighbours in 1642, when the Bishop was sent to the Tower by warrant of Parliament for his persistent effort to restore reverent ceremonial in public worship. The services in the Minster were conducted at this time by Canon Hitch, Vicar of Holy Trinity, to whom Cromwell wrote as follows from his house hard by:

Ely _10th January 1643_.

MR. HITCH,

Lest the soldiers should in any tumultuary or disorderly way attempt the Reformation of the Cathedral Church, I require you to forbear altogether your Choir Service, so unedifying and offensive:--and this as you shall answer for it if any disorder should arise thereupon. I advise you to catechise, and read and expound the Scriptures to the people; not doubting but the Parliament with the advice of the a.s.sembly of Divines will direct you further. I desire your sermons too where they usually have been, but more frequent.

Your loving friend, OLIVER CROMWELL.

Canon Hitch took no notice of this letter, and the "Choir Service"

went on as before; wherefore Cromwell, sword in hand, his hat on his head, attended by a party of soldiers, went to the cathedral at the time of Divine Service, and spoke aloud these words: "I am a man under authority, having soldiers under me, and am commanded to dismiss this a.s.sembly." Canon Hitch, who was conducting the Service at the Communion Table, paid no attention, and went on without stopping; whereupon Cromwell, followed by soldiers and rabble, went up to the clergyman, laid his hand on his sword, and, bidding him "leave off his fooling and come down," drove the congregation out of the cathedral.

Five years after this scene took place, an order was made by the House of Commons to the effect "that the Cathedral Church in the Isle of Ely, being in a ruinous condition, should be examined with a view to its being pulled down and its material used to make provision for sick and maimed soldiers and their families." Providentially this order was not carried into effect, Cromwell's own influence being presumably used against it.

If we continue our walk for a few minutes further westward along the street, we come to a quaint and picturesque building now known as St.

John's Farm. It was built by Bishop Northwold, in order to unite the two Hostels of St. John the Baptist and St. Mary Magdalene. These Hostels had been founded for the use of monks who, though residing in Ely, wished to be independent of the greater monastery; Bishop Northwold put an end to this undesirable state of things by erecting one Hostel for the use of the two communities, and placing it under the direct supervision of the Sacrist of Ely. The Hostel is now an unpretending homestead, much rebuilt, yet retaining bits of thirteenth century work still untouched and therefore of interest.

Those who approach Ely from the south must notice two prominent buildings standing quite apart from the cathedral. One is the Theological College, a structure of red brick well placed on rising ground, where twenty students can reside while preparing to take Holy Orders in the Church of England; it was founded by Bishop Woodford, who filled the See for twelve years from 1873. The College has its own private chapel for daily use, but by its const.i.tution the students are bound to attend many services in the cathedral; the founder having insisted on this proviso as tending to maintain the link between the new foundation and the ancient Minster, a link which he foresaw might otherwise dwindle away. As a rule students have one year of special training and study; and during this time they take part in the parochial work of the cathedral city.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _St. John's Farm._]

The other conspicuous building is a round castellated structure that might well pa.s.s for a Norman keep, but is, in fact, the water tower of Ely, supporting a huge tank into which water is forced from springs at Isleham some seven miles distant.[231] The inhabitants of the city have good reason to be thankful for this water supply; not a hundred years ago the natural springs on the spot were so inadequate for their use that most of the water for brewing and washing had to be brought up from the river, slung in a pair of leather bags on horseback, an arrangement manifestly inconvenient, "though providing," as the historian adds, "a comfortable subsistence for many industrious poor."

Let us hope that these poor folk did not bear a grudge against Dean Peac.o.c.k, to whose zeal the waterworks of Ely are mainly due.

[Footnote 231: See p. 183.]

One of the chief industries of Ely is the making of jam, for which the rich fruit-growing fields in the neighbourhood supply the material.

And if we follow the main street down to the wharf on the river Ouse we shall see in the piles of willow wands that lie ready stripped on its banks, evidence of a much older industry still carried on here.

This is the basket-making, for the which the fenland districts of Britain were famed even before the Romans reached the country.

Posidonius, the Rhodian geographer under whom Cicero studied, and who himself visited our island about 100 B.C., mentions "British baskets"

as exported for use on the Continent. A century later Strabo tells us of their extensive home use, for storing corn, and Martial, in the next generation, gives us the very word, which was adopted into the Latin from the Celtic original (still used in Welsh), as it has since been adopted into English. In sending a present to a lady he alludes to it as:

"A basket rude, from painted Britons come."

("Barbara de pictis venio _bascauda_ Britannis.")

The withies of which the baskets are made were at first, doubtless, the shoots of the willows found growing wild along the streams. Now they are cut from carefully tended osier-beds, small enclosed areas which are periodically flooded, where the willows are regularly cultivated with a view to the production of long shoots suitable for this industry. "They are regularly cut, peeled, and seasoned and afford employment to large numbers of people."[232] Nor is the making of baskets the only purpose for which willows may be profitably cultivated; for, as Fuller says:--"This tree delighteth in moist places and is triumphant in the Isle of Ely, where the roots strengthen the banks and the lop affords fuel for the fire. It groweth incredibly fast; it being a by-word in this county that the profit by willows will buy the owner a horse before other trees will pay for his saddle."

[Footnote 232: Hughes. _County Geography of Cambs_, p. 98.]

Having thus come to know something of Ely Minster, we shall feel the greater interest in all our further explorations through those highways and byways of the surrounding district over which she presides with the air of a Mother, and a Queen.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Willow Walk._]