ought not to pass out of England.  Archbishop Sudbury summoned him not to St. Paul’s, but to Lambeth.  But the favour with which he was now regarded was so manifest that he was allowed to depart from the assembly a free man, only with an injunction to keep silence “lest he should mislead the ignorant.”  He went back to Lutterworth, where he occupied himself in preaching and translating the Bible.  He died in 1384.  A wonderful impetus was, however, given to the spread of his opinions by the schism in the Papacy which was filling Europe with horrified amazement.

From that time till the accession of the Tudors, two subjects are prominent in English history:  the spread of Lollardism, i.e., the Wycliffite doctrines, and the Wars of the Roses.  Both topics have some place in the history of Old St. Paul’s.

Richard II. on his accession came in great pomp hither, and never again alive.  But his body was shown in the cathedral by his victorious successor, Henry IV., who had a few days before buried his father, John of Gaunt, there, who died at Ely House, Holborn, February 3rd, 1399, and whose tomb was one of the finest in the cathedral, as sumptuous as those of his father, Edward III., at Westminster, and his son, Henry IV., at Canterbury.

Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, the youngest son of Henry IV., was appointed guardian of his infant nephew, Henry VI., on his father’s death; but partly though the intrigues and squabbles of the royal family, partly by his own mismanagement, he lost the confidence of the nation.  His wife, Jacqueline, had been persuaded by a sorcerer that her husband would be king, and she joined him in acts of witchcraft in order to bring this about.  She was condemned (October, 1441) to do penance by walking three successive days in a white sheet and carrying a lighted taper, starting each day from St. Paul’s and visiting certain churches.  Her husband, says the chronicler Grafton, “took all patiently and said little.”  Still retaining some power in the Council, he lived until 1447, when he died and was buried at St. Albans.  He was an unprincipled man, but a generous patron of letters and a persecutor of Lollards; and hence, in after years, he got the name of “the good Duke Humphrey,” which was hardly a greater delusion than that which afterwards identified the tomb of Sir John Beauchamp in St. Paul’s as Duke Humphrey’s.  But the strange error was accepted, and the aisle in which the said tomb lay was commonly known as “Duke Humphrey’s Walk,” and it was a favourite resort of insolvent debtors and beggars, who loitered about it dinnerless and in hope of alms.  And thus arose the phrase of “Dining with Duke Humphrey,” i.e., going without; a phrase, it will be seen, founded on a strange blunder.  The real grave is on the south side of the shrine of St. Alban’s.