The Chronicle of Jocelin of Brakelond: A Picture of Monastic Life in the Days of Abbot Samson
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Title: The Chronicle of Jocelin of Brakelond: A Picture of Monastic Life in the Days of Abbot Samson
Author: active 1173-1215 de Brakelond Jocelin
Editor: Ernest Clarke
Release date: October 17, 2011 [eBook #37780]
Language: English
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[Illustration: frontispiece]
THE CHRONICLE OF JOCELIN
OF BRAKELOND: A PICTURE
OF MONASTIC LIFE IN THE
DAYS OF ABBOT SAMSON.
Newly Edited by
SIR ERNEST CLARKE M.A. F.S.A.
[Illustration:
_Seal of Abbot Samson.
(Slightly enlarged. The length of the
original is 3-1/2 inches._)]
THE CHRONICLE OF
JOCELIN OF BRAKELOND:
A PICTURE OF
MONASTIC LIFE IN
THE DAYS OF ABBOT
SAMSON
Newly Edited by
SIR ERNEST CLARKE
Alexander Moring
The De La More Press
298 Regent Street London W 1903
"A VERITABLE MONK OF BURY ST. EDMUND'S: WORTH LISTENING TO, IF BY
CHANCE MADE VISIBLE AND AUDIBLE. HERE HE IS; AND IN HIS HAND A
MAGICAL SPECULUM, MUCH GONE TO RUST, INDEED, YET IN FRAGMENTS STILL
CLEAR; WHEREIN THE MARVELLOUS IMAGE OF HIS EXISTENCE DOES STILL
SHADOW ITSELF, THOUGH FITFULLY, AND AS WITH AN INTERMITTENT LIGHT."
_Carlyle: Past and Present._ Chapter 1.
LIST OF CONTENTS
SEAL OF ABBOT SAMSON. _Frontispiece_
_EDITOR'S PREFACE._
Page
Samson and his arch-eulogist--The Chronicle--Previous
Editions of the Chronicle--The Chronicler--The Central
Figure of the Chronicle--Samson in Subordinate
Offices--Samson as Abbot--Relations with Church and
State--Samson as an Author--Samson's
Masterfulness--Samson as an Administrator--Epilogue xv.-xliii.
CHAPTER I.
_BURY ABBEY UNDER ABBOT HUGH._
The last years of Abbot Hugh--The monastery under a load of
debt, and in the hands of Jew money-lenders--Inquiry by
the Royal almoner--Caustic comment by Samson, master of
the novices--Exemption obtained by Hugh from visitation
by the Legate--Jocelin's reflection thereon--The Convent
debt--Entertainment of strangers--Samson in various
offices, but disliked by the Abbot--Accident to Hugh at
Canterbury--His death--His house despoiled by his
servants 1-11
CHAPTER II.
_THE MONKS DISCUSS THE VACANCY._
Wardens of the Abbey appointed by the King--Culpable
Weakness of the Prior--William the sacrist--Activity of
Samson as subsacrist--Jealousy of him--The Wardens stop
further building operations--Much discussion by the
monks as to the qualifications needed in the new
Abbot--Samson silently notes all that is said--Jocelin's
indiscretion in blurting out his private opinion 12-23
CHAPTER III.
_THE CHOICE OF A NEW ABBOT._
Henry II. orders the Prior and twelve delegates from the
Abbey to attend him to make choice of a new
Abbot--Selection of the twelve--Six electors appointed
to choose three names to be given under seal to the
delegates--The journey to the Court--Gossip and telling
of dreams amongst the monks left behind--The delegates
before the King at Bishop's Waltham--The sealed paper
opened--Samson eventually selected--Approval of the
King, and his comment on Samson's demeanour 24-35
CHAPTER IV.
_SAMSON'S INSTALLATION._
Reception of the news at the Monastery--Samson blessed by
the Bishop of Winchester--He journeys to Bury, and is
welcomed by the Convent on Palm Sunday--His address in
the chapter-house--Answer of Wimer the Sheriff--Jocelin
made Abbot's Chaplain--New Seal struck with mitre graven
thereon--Samson sets his household in order--General
Court summoned--Demand of aid from his knights 36-42
CHAPTER V.
_THE NEW ABBOT'S REFORMS._
Prepares an estate book--Buildings and repairs--Enclosure
of parks--Hunting and dogs--Land
improvements--Management of manors--General
survey--Makes a kalendar--New regulations made in
Chapter--Amount of the convent debts and their
discharge--Dismissal of William the sacrist--Samson
visits all the Abbey manors--His anxieties about the
debts--His skill and energy in managing the
estates--Appointed judge in ecclesiastical
courts--Jocelin's excuse for Samson's fondness for
betaking himself to his manors--The Abbot's complaint at
the burden of his charge--His dream as a child--His
control of temper--Order for production of convent
seals--Thirty-three given up, all retained by the Abbot,
except the prior's--Entertainment of guests 43-59
CHAPTER VI.
_SAMSON'S PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS._
His personal appearance--His temperance and
diligence--Abhors liars, drunkards and talkative
folk--His eloquence--Preaches to the people in the
Norfolk dialect--Management of his household--Strict
regulation of expenses--Appoints none but fit persons to
office--His treatment of his relatives--Gratitude for
past kindnesses--Provides free lodgings for poor
scholars--Expulsion of Jews from Bury--Purchase of the
Manor of Mildenhall--Giving up of King Henry II.'s cup
and its restoration--Samson's generosity--The Woolpit
living--Samson recounts his visit to Rome in his early
days, and his adventures 60-75
CHAPTER VII.
_THE ABBOT AS PEER OF PARLIAMENT._
Dispute with Archbishop of Canterbury as to jurisdiction
over manor of Eleigh--Quarrel with the Bishop of Ely,
the Chancellor--Samson wishes to take the cross: the
King refuses permission--Goes to siege of Windsor in
martial array--Visits Richard I. in
Germany--Excommunication by him of a company of
roystering young knights--Embassies to Rome--The claim
of the Earl of Clare to carry the Standard of St. Edmund
in battle--Adam of Cockfield's inheritance--Herbert the
dean and his windmill--Jocelin's New Year's gift--The
Abbot's struggle with his rebellious knights 76-100
CHAPTER VIII.
_THE CASE OF HENRY OF ESSEX._
Excesses of Henry of Essex--His cowardice in Wales--The
wager of battle on the island near Reading--Henry's
vision--His recovery and repentance 101-105
CHAPTER IX.
_TROUBLES WITHOUT._
The Bishop of Ely outwitted as to timber asked for by
him--Dispute as to town bailiffs--Murmurings of the
monks--Toll-right dispute with London merchants--Dues of
the burgesses--Samson grants a charter to the town 106-117
CHAPTER X.
_TROUBLES WITHIN._
Inefficient cellarers--New arrangements criticised--The
Archbishop of Canterbury claims authority to visit the
Abbey as legate--Samson's successful appeal to the Pope 118-127
CHAPTER XI.
_SAMSON'S CONTESTS WITH KNIGHTS,
MONKS AND TOWNSMEN._
King Richard's levies--The abbot's difficulties in making
his knights comply--Goes to Normandy and arranges
matters with the King--Samson's generosity to the
abbey--He takes the cellarer's department into his own
hands--Consequent discontent--Hamo Blund's will, and
Samson's comments thereon--Riots in the
churchyard--Rioters reduced to submission 128-141
CHAPTER XII.
_THE CARES OF OFFICE._
Restoration of the Coventry monks--Samson's hospitality at
Oxford--His endowment of the Bury schools--Abbey
improvements--The Abbot withstands King Richard over the
wardship of Nesta of Cockfield--The King appeased by a
present of horses and dogs 142-149
CHAPTER XIII.
_THE CUSTOMS OF THE TOWNSHIP._
Old oppressive customs changed or abrogated by Samson--The
Cellarer's difficulties in collecting _rep silver_--The
hard case of Ketel--The Cellarer's dues--Lakenheath
eels--Samson's reforms and his critics 150-161
CHAPTER XIV.
_THE SHRINE OF ST. EDMUND._
Fire around the shrine--The shrine unhurt--Vain attempts to
hush up the scandal--Samson dreams of St. Edmund
despoiled--The saint's body uncovered--Samson and
certain of the monks view the sacred relic 162-177
CHAPTER XV.
_THE MONASTERY IN REVOLT._
Death of King Richard--King John visits the Abbey--Samson
supports Ralph the porter against the monks--He
withdraws from the convent--Disturbances in his
absence--The monks submit--Reconciliation--Marshalling
of the Knights--Further troubles about the manors and
cellary 178-189
CHAPTER XVI.
_ELECTION OF A NEW PRIOR._
Death of Robert the Prior--Herbert the chaplain and Hermer
the sub-prior candidates for the post--Through the
Abbot's influence Herbert is elected--Jocelin
moralizes--The gibes of the unlearned 190-199
CHAPTER XVII.
_THE ABBOT'S FOIBLES._
Samson's faults--The dam at Babwell--Trouble with the Ely
monks--The Abbot summoned over sea to the King--Sets his
house in order--His unfulfilled promises--The story
breaks off 200-211
APPENDICES.
I. SAMSON AS AN AUTHOR 215-221
II. NOTES TO TEXT OF CHRONICLE 222-256
III. TABLE OF CHIEF DATES IN THE HISTORY OF
THE ABBEY OF ST. EDMUNDSBURY, A.D.
870 TO 1903 257-278
_GENERAL INDEX_ 279-285
PREFACE
=Samson and his Arch-Eulogist.=--Abbot Samson of St. Edmundsbury and
his biographer, Jocelin of Brakelond, undoubtedly owe such immortality
as they possess to their introduction to the world at large by Thomas
Carlyle. Learned historians and commentators of the past had made use
of the dry facts of the Chronicle for their disquisitions and
treatises; but none had recognized the human interest of Jocelin's
narrative until the Sage of Chelsea seized upon it as evidence of that
theory of Hero Worship on which he loved to insist.
The whole of the seventeen chapters of Book II. of "Past and Present,"
published in 1843, are devoted to a study of Abbot Samson, and the
lessons which Carlyle thought "our own poor century" could learn from
him.
From that day to this, Samson has been more or less a household word;
and, as John Richard Green says in his "Stray Studies" (1876), "In the
wandering gossipy pages of Jocelin of Brakelond the life of the
twelfth century, so far as it could penetrate abbey walls, still glows
distinct for us round the figure of the shrewd, practical, kindly,
imperious abbot who looks out, a little travestied perhaps, from the
pages of Mr. Carlyle."
=The Chronicle.=--Mr. Green further says:--"By a rare accident the
figure of the silent, industrious Norfolk monk, who at the close of
Henry the Second's reign suddenly found himself ruler of the
wealthiest, if not the greatest, of English abbeys, starts out
distinct from the dim canvas of the annals of his house. Annals indeed
in any strict sense St. Edmund's has none; no national chronicle was
ever penned in its scriptorium such as that which flings lustre round
its rival, St. Albans; nor is even a record of its purely monastic
life preserved such as that which gives a local and ecclesiastical
interest to its rival of Glastonbury. One book alone the abbey has
given us, but that one book is worth a thousand chronicles."
The original manuscript of the Chronicle occupies 43 folios (121-163)
of a thick quarto volume on vellum once in the library of Bury Abbey,
afterwards in the hands of the family of Bacon of Redgrave, then
belonging to Bishop Stillingfleet of Worcester, and now preserved in
the British Museum amongst the Harleian Manuscripts. The contents of
this _Liber Albus_ (Harl. MS. 1005) are very varied; and a complete
list of the 144 items in it which relate to the Abbey will be found on
pp. 122-4 of the 1821 Edition of the _Monasticon_. (Another copy of
the Chronicle was in the Cottonian MS. Vitellius DXV., burnt in the
fire of 1731.) Three facsimiles of portions of the MS. are given in
the Camden Society's Edition of the Latin text (to be presently
referred to), and the writing is there ascribed to the end of the 13th
or beginning of the 14th century.
=Previous Editions of the Chronicle.=--In the year 1840, John Gage
Rokewode, F.R.S. (1786-1842), Director of the Society of Antiquaries,
brought out for the Camden Society a thin quarto book in the familiar
green cover, which he entitled "Chronica Jocelini de Brakelonda de
rebus gestis Samsonis Abbatis Monasterii Sancti Edmundi." It was this
book that attracted the attention of Carlyle, with the results already
stated. Rokewode was a scion of the distinguished family of Gage of
Hengrave, near Bury, and took the additional name of Rokewode on
inheriting in 1838 the estates of the Rookwood family. He was a very
learned genealogist, and the author of a History of Hengrave and of
the Hundred of Thingoe. His observations on Suffolk families and
topography are therefore to be relied upon, though subsequent
investigation has corrected some of his notes on historical matters.
Rokewode's text was in the original Latin; but to meet the popular
demand for the Chronicle caused by Carlyle's published appreciation of
it in "Past and Present" (1843), a translation into English was made
by Thomas Edlyne Tomlins (1804-1872), and was published in 1844 by
Whitaker & Co. in the "Popular Library of Modern Authors," under the
title of "Monastic and Social Life in the Twelfth Century."
Mr. T. E. Tomlins was a nephew of the better known Sir Thomas Edlyne
Tomlins (1762-1841), assistant counsel to the Treasury, who wrote "The
Law of Wills" and other well-known text-books. The younger Thomas was
an attorney, and also wrote on legal subjects. Tomlins' translation of
Jocelin was issued in the somewhat forbidding form of a tall
paper-covered book of 64 pages of double columns of small type,
without any break from start to finish: the few notes at the end being
mostly on legal points, and none of them of great merit.
It does not appear that Mr. Tomlins had any special knowledge of his
subject; and, as a consequence, his translation contained a quantity
of errors, both of omission and commission. His book has been used as
the ground-work for the present edition, but the alterations made in
the text have been so numerous and important as to be practically
equivalent to a new translation altogether. The three Appendices
(pages 215-278) are wholly new.
The task of rendering the Latin text into satisfactory and accurate
English has been made easier by the publication in 1890-6 of Mr.
Thomas Arnold's three volumes of "Memorials of St. Edmund's Abbey"
(No. 96 of the Rolls Series). "Tom" Arnold (1823-1900) was the second
son of Arnold of Rugby and the younger brother of Matthew Arnold; and
he undertook a quantity of work for the Rolls Series, not all of which
he was able to carry through with the completeness that he desired.
Especially with regard to the Annals of St. Edmundsbury there was a
quantity of material that he could not deal with in the leisure at his
command. But so far as concerns the Chronicle of Jocelin (which
occupies 228 pages of his Volume I.), his edition of the original
Latin text was carefully revised and annotated.
=The Chronicler.=--Of Jocelin of Brakelond very little is certainly
known beyond what he himself tells us in the Chronicle. There are two
streets in Bury St. Edmunds known as the Long and Short Brackland or
Braklond, and probably Jocelin took his name from his place of birth.
In the text of the Chronicle, however, and in other 13th century
documents in which his name is recorded, he appears simply as Jocelin.
He tells us he took the habit in 1173, "the year when the Flemings
were taken captive without the town" (page 1); and that he then came
under the care of Samson, at that time master of the novices, who told
him some of his own experiences by way of warning against interference
with the constituted authorities (6).
At the time of Samson's election as Abbot, in 1182, Jocelin was
prior's chaplain, but within four months he was made abbot's chaplain,
"noting many things and committing them to memory" (39): for which all
students of English history are eternally grateful to him. In his
capacity as Samson's chaplain, Jocelin was "constantly with him by day
and night for six years, and had the opportunity of becoming fully
conversant with the worthiness of his life and the wisdom of his rule"
(56).
Jocelin evidently starts at first with an admiration for Samson's
vigorous and independent regime (see especially pages 52-3); but later
on his faith in his master seems to have been a little shaken, and
Samson's action in practically "jockeying" his favourite Herbert into
the office of prior takes Jocelin's breath away. The eventful meeting
of the chapter over, he sits down stupefied in the porch of the guest
chamber (he being then hospitarius), and reflects on the situation
(198). He cannot approve, moreover, Samson's action with regard to
John Ruffus and Adam the Infirmarer, where he more than hints at the
Abbot's acceptance of a bribe (200). The banking up by Samson of the
fishpond at Babwell, thus flooding the pastures and gardens of others,
he describes as "another stain of evil doing" (201): the Abbot's
passionate retort that "his fish pond was not to be spoilt on account
of our meadows," obviously offending Jocelin's sense of the
proprieties. He demurs, moreover, to the willingness of certain of the
monks to strip even the shrine of St. Edmund himself to obtain an
exemption of the Abbey from episcopal visitation, pointing out that
there might come a time when the convent might need the control of a
bishop, archbishop, or legate, over a tyrannous or spendthrift abbot
(7).
It is perhaps for these reasons that we find Jocelin, at a date after
Samson's death, on the side of the party of caution and moderation in
the disputes over the election of a new abbot. The author, whoever he
was, of the interpolated narrative in the Chronicle relating to Henry
of Essex (101 _et seq._) refers to "Master Jocelin our almoner, a man
of exalted piety, powerful in word and in deed"; and there can hardly
be any doubt that this was our Jocelin. In the highly complicated
story (printed in Mr. Arnold's second volume) of the preliminaries to
the final approval by King John of Samson's successor, Abbot Hugh II.,
Jocelin the almoner took the side of Robert of Gravelee, the sacrist,
who advocated the adoption of the plan followed when the previous
vacancy occurred, of submitting to the king names from whom he could
make a selection (as indeed John had asked might be done by letter
dated 25 July, 1213), instead of asking him, as they did, to confirm
an election already made. Jocelin, in a speech delivered in the
chapter-house, seems indeed to have been the first to start the view
that the convent had made a mistake, and that it ought to put itself
right with the king. He again insisted on this at a second debate in
December, 1213, and took a prominent part in the subsequent
discussions, his name being recorded in the division list of June,
1214, when 30 voted on his side, and 32 for adherence to the claims of
the Abbey.
The three delegates, the Abbot of Wardon, the Prior of Dunstable, and
the Dean of Salisbury, who had been appointed by the Pope on May 18,
1214, to inquire into the Bury election, held the last but one of
their numerous sittings on February 12, 1215, at which Jocelin was
present. At last the delegates announced on March 10 their judgment
confirming the election, which, with considerable trouble, they
persuaded the sacrist and his party to accept, and to exchange with
the new abbot the kiss of peace.
When, on April 24, 1215, the abbot elect, unsuccessful in obtaining
John's favour, and refusing to bribe the king, though advised to do so
by the courtiers, appointed certain officials to the custody of Abbey
manors, he took the advice, amongst other high officers, of Jocelin
the almoner; and this is the last we hear of our Chronicler.
Jocelin himself mentions (23) that he had written a book on the many
signs and wonders in connection with the martyrdom by the Jews of the
boy Robert, who was buried in the Abbey Church; but this work is not
known to be extant. The inaccurate Bale also ascribes to him the
authorship of the tract _Super Electione Hugonis_ (also in the Liber
Albus), from which the above facts as to Jocelin's later life have
been gleaned. But there is no authority for this; and, as Mr. Arnold
points out (i. lix.), the style of that work is different from the
Chronicle.
Whatever criticisms one might be tempted to pass on Carlyle's
appreciation of Samson, there need be no dissentient voice to his
summing up of Jocelin's character:--
An ingenious and ingenuous, a cheery-hearted, innocent, yet withal
shrewd, noticing, quick-witted man; and from under his monk's cowl
has looked out on the narrow section of the world in a really human
manner.... The man is of patient, peaceable, loving, clear-smiling
nature; open for this or that.... Also he has a pleasant wit, and
loves a timely joke, though in mild, subdued manner. A learned, grown
man, yet with the heart as of a good child.
=The Central Figure of the Chronicle.=--Whatever his other merits,
Jocelin's strong point was certainly not chronological sequence. With
the assistance of the Table of Dates printed on pages 261-267, the
reader will, it is hoped, get some useful sort of idea of the busy
life of Abbot Samson, both within and without the walls of the
monastery, whilst it was under his vigorous rule; and as to his
personal characteristics, virtues and foibles, they are writ large in
almost every chapter of the Chronicle.
He was obviously of humble origin, and his dialect was that of his
native county of Norfolk (62). He seems to have lost his father early,
for we read of his conferring, soon after he became Abbot, a benefice
upon the son of a man of lowly station who had been kind to him in his
youth and looked after his interests (66). As a child of nine, he had
been taken by his mother to a pilgrimage to St. Edmund, after a dream
which presaged his future service under that saint (56). When he was a
poor clerk, William, the schoolmaster of Diss, had given him free
admission to his school: a favour which he requited by giving Walter,
son of William, the living of Chevington (67). Similarly, he helped
those of his kinsmen who had recognized him when he was a poor clerk,
provided they were worthy; but with those who had then held aloof from
him he wished to have no dealings (66).
At some early date Samson went to Paris to study, a friend who then
supported him there by the proceeds of the sale of holy water
receiving afterwards a benefice from him (66). Just as he did not
forget the friends who had helped him in his early struggles so he
remembered past kindnesses shown to him when he was a poor monk and
out of favour with the authorities. When Hugh, his predecessor,
clapped him into irons, Hugh's cupbearer Elias brought him some wine
to quench his prison thirst (67); and when he needed a night's lodging
on his return from Durham on the business of the Abbey, a resident at
Risby gave him the shelter which a neighbour refused (68). Neither
favour was forgotten when Elias and William of Risby came before him
as landlord.
By 1160 Samson was back from abroad as master of the schools at Bury,
though he did not become a professed monk till 1166. Meanwhile he had
been sent on an errand to Rome, with reference to the church at
Woolpit, in which his native wit showed itself (73, 74). He seems to
have been successful in his mission, getting from Pope Alexander III.
a reversion for the monastery of the Woolpit living; but, perhaps
because he returned too late to prevent Geoffrey Ridel being appointed
by the king (74), Abbot Hugh banished him, on his return, to Castle
Acre. Here he remained in exile a long time (74), and he was sent
there again after he had become a cloister monk, and had spoken up
"for the good of our Church" in opposition to the Abbot (6).
=Samson in Subordinate Offices.=--Much as Hugh disliked Samson, he
seems to have been a little afraid of him; and, to reconcile matters,
he made Samson subsacrist. "Often accused," says Jocelin, "he was
transferred from one office to another, being successively guest
master, pittance master, third prior, and again subsacrist" (9). But
he could not be induced to fawn on and flatter the Abbot, as other
officials did; and Hugh declared that "he had never seen a man whom he
could not bend to his will, except Samson the subsacrist" (10).
When at length Hugh's trying dispensation came to an end, through his
horse accident at Canterbury in 1180, Samson was, as subsacrist, busy
with new building operations for the Church (14). His superior
officer, the bibulous William Wiardel, the sacrist, was jealous of
him, and persuaded the wardens of the Abbey to stop any further
expense for works during the vacancy (15). But Samson knew some things
to William's financial and moral discredit, on which he was later able
to base the sacrist's dismissal from office (46-7).
The gossip amongst the monks as to which of the brethren should fill
Hugh's place is admirably told by Jocelin (Chap. ii.). Whilst the rest
were babbling at blood-letting season, Samson the subsacrist sat
smiling but saying nothing (21). The receipt of Henry II.'s order or
permission to make choice of a new Abbot put the monastery in a
flutter; and the selection of the deputation to wait upon the King,
and their interview with their liege lord, is most naively described
in chapter iii. The secret ballot at Bury for three names was a
surprise to the higher officials (31), and they did what they could to
diminish Samson's chances. But after some fencing the Bishop of
Winchester asked the deputation point blank whom they wanted, and the
answer was--Samson: "no one gainsaying this" (34).
=Samson as Abbot.=--And so the once oppressed and obscure monk
returned to Bury the absolute ruler of the foundation, with the king's
remark in his ears when he noted, with apparent admiration at Bishop's
Waltham, how Samson comported himself in the royal presence: "By the
eyes of God, this Abbot elect thinks himself worthy to govern an
abbey!" (35). So indeed he did, setting to work at once after his
ceremonial installation (37) to institute reforms of all sorts. As
Carlyle says, and his words must suffice in this place:--
How Abbot Samson, giving his new subjects seriatim the kiss of
fatherhood in the St. Edmundsbury chapter-house, proceeded with
cautious energy to set about reforming their disjointed, distracted
way of life; how he managed with his Fifty rough Milites (Feudal
Knights), with his lazy farmers, remiss refractory monks, with Pope's
Legates, Viscounts, Bishops, Kings; how on all sides he laid about
him like a man, and putting consequence on premiss, and everywhere
the saddle on the right horse, struggled incessantly to educe organic
method out of lazily fermenting wreck,--the careful reader will
discern, not without true interest, in these pages of Jocelin
Boswell.
To tell the story of all this would be to paraphrase the Chronicle;
and the reader is therefore referred to the List of Contents for
instances of the Abbot's capacity and resourcefulness in dealing with
the complicated interests under his control.
But there is one aspect of his busy life to which allusion may perhaps
here be made, as showing the influence and importance of the Abbot of
St. Edmundsbury outside the monastery walls.
=Relations with Church and State.=--Samson's abbacy extended over
the pontificates of five Popes and the reigns of three Kings, by all
of whom his strength of character and wisdom of counsel seem to have
been appreciated. Pope Lucius III., who had succeeded, in 1181,
Alexander III., to whom Samson had twenty years before paid a visit on
behalf of the Abbey (72), appointed the new abbot a judge in the
ecclesiastical courts within seven months of his election (51). Urban
III. granted Samson in 1187-8, the privilege of giving the episcopal
benediction (84) and other concessions. Celestine III. placed him in
1197 on the commission for restoring the expelled monks at Coventry
(142); and Innocent III. granted on December 1, 1198, without
hesitation, on Samson's application, an exemption of Bury Abbey from
episcopal visitation even by a legate unless he were a legate _a
latere_ (124).
King Henry II., who had apparently formed a favourable opinion of
Samson from his demeanour on his election (35), practically decided in
his favour on February 11, 1187, in his dispute with Archbishop Hubert
concerning his abbatial jurisdiction over Monk's Eleigh, where a case
of homicide had occurred (78). In the same year, the king at Clarendon
favourably considered Samson's petition with reference to the immunity
of Bury Abbey from certain taxes (96). Having taken the Cross on
January 21, 1188, Henry II. came to Bury within a month to pay a
pilgrimage to St. Edmund, when Samson endeavoured, without success, to
obtain the king's permission to do likewise (81).
In the next year Henry died at Chinon (July 6, 1189), and Samson had
to deal with a new sovereign: at whose coronation on September 3,
1189, he was present. One of Richard's earliest acts was the sale of
offices, crown rights, crown property, and royal favours to fill his
military chest; saying indeed that he would sell London if he could
find a purchaser. Amongst the bargains of this sort was the sale to
Samson of the manor of Mildenhall for 1,000 marks, after the astute
abbot had offered him half that amount (70). The queen-mother was
entitled by custom of the realm to 100 marks as a perquisite in
connection with this transaction, and took in lieu thereof a gold cup
which had been given to the abbey by Henry II. This same cup came back
to Bury in exchange for 100 marks (71), when the 70,000 marks required
to ransom King Richard was being raised in England (147).
When the news of Richard's capture reached England, Samson rose in his
place in the King's Council to express his readiness to seek the king
in Germany, either in disguise or any other way: "by reason whereof,"
says Jocelin, "he obtained great approbation" (81). Later on he did go
to Germany, "and visited the king with many gifts" (82).
Towards the end of Richard's reign, in 1198, Samson tried to avoid
sending four of his knights to Normandy, in obedience to the King's
orders, and went to see him, with the result that Richard accepted
four mercenaries, and afterwards a hundred pounds to discharge the
obligation (128-30). He brought back with him on this occasion for the
adornment of the abbey church a golden cross and a valuable copy of
the Gospels (130); and Jocelin records that so often as he returned
from beyond sea on his numerous visits abroad, he brought back with
him some offering for the church (131), besides making gifts to it on
other occasions.
In 1198 a serious quarrel took place between Richard and Samson over
the wardship of Nesta of Cockfield, the daughter of a family whose
tenure of lands from the Abbey is recorded with wearisome iteration in
the Chronicle. Samson would not give way, despite the threats of the
King, which he "very wisely passed over without notice," and in the
end Richard yielded with a good grace, asking the abbot if he would
send him some of his dogs. The abbot of course complied, and added
some horses and other valuable gifts, in exchange for which Richard
sent him a ring given to him by the new Pope, Innocent III. (147-9).
Just as Samson had "obtained the favour and grace of King Richard by
gifts and money, so that he had good reason to believe that he could
succeed in all his undertakings, the King died, and the abbot lost all
his labour and outlay" (178). It became therefore necessary to
propitiate Richard's successor. King John made an early pilgrimage to
St. Edmund, but left in bad odour with the monastery, which had spent
much money on his entertainment, but had only received in return
thirteenpence offered by the king at the shrine of the Saint on the
day of his departure, besides a silken cloth borrowed for the occasion
from the sacrist and never paid for (178). John must, however, have
thought highly of the abbot to summon him over sea in 1203 to confer
with him as to the Pope's letter concerning the dispensation of
Crusaders from their vows (207).
=Samson as an Author.=--Once when Jocelin asked why he had been
sighing so heavily and was so wakeful at nights, Samson confided to
him how greatly he felt the burden of his charge; and on another
occasion said that if he had known what it involved, he would, rather
than be abbot and lord, have preferred to be keeper of the books, "for
this office he had ever desired above all others" (55).
Jocelin hints a polite incredulity; but there are evidences that
Samson was fond of books, and was indeed an author. There is a small
volume, Titus A viii. in the Cottonian collection, which includes in
its contents a work in two books, entitled _De Miraculis Sancti
Aedmundi_. From a number of marginal notes, of even date with the
fourteenth century text, and which ascribe to Samson, amongst other
writers, the authorship of various passages in the great legendary
life of St. Edmund in the Bodleian Library (MS. 240), Mr. Arnold
arrived at the conclusion that "the writer of the work was
unquestionably Abbot Samson." For the evidence the reader is referred
to Appendix I. (pages 215-21); but it would appear that the work was
written before the date when he became abbot, and perhaps before he
had been appointed to any one of the numerous offices in the monastery
to which he was from time to time transferred by the capricious Hugh
(9).
Whenever any new event was recorded in his patron saint's honour,
Samson caused it to be recorded: hence at his desire the episode of
Henry of Essex, whom St. Edmund had "confounded in the very hour of
battle" (102), was reduced to writing at Reading, and interpolated by
some other monk in Jocelin's chronicle.
=Samson's Masterfulness.=--Samson, like his prototype of Scripture,
was a "strong man," and as such he came into constant conflict with
those who sought to try conclusions with him, usually to their own
regret. From instances innumerable, the following may be selected as
typical. At his very first general court of his knights, Thomas of
Hastings tried to press the claim of his nephew Henry--a minor--to the
hereditary stewardship of the Abbey; but Samson said he would consider
the matter when Henry could perform the duties (41). Richard, Earl of
Clare, demanded his guerdon of five shillings for the office of
Standard-bearer of St. Edmund. Samson retorted that the payment of the
money would not inconvenience the Abbey; but there were two other
claimants for the post, and Richard must settle first with them. The
Earl said he would confer with Roger Bigot his kinsman, "and so the
matter was put off even to this day" (86).
Geoffrey Ridel, the Bishop of Ely, sent a blundering messenger to the
abbot to ask for timber from woods at Elmswell, meaning Elmsett.
Samson assented to the request for Elmswell, and meanwhile sent his
foresters to Elmsett and cut down a great quantity of oaks, branding
them as the property of the Abbey. The bishop overwhelmed his stupid
servant with reproaches, and sent him back to explain. But it was too
late, "and the bishop, if he wanted timber, had to get it elsewhere"
(107).
Herbert the dean erected a windmill upon the Haberdon, and tried to
brazen it out with Samson. But the abbot bade him begone, and told him
that before he had come to his house, he should hear what had befallen
his mill. Whereupon the trembling dean had the mill pulled down
himself, so that when the servants of the sacrist came to the spot,
they found their work already done for them (90).
In the domestic quarrel with his monks over the case of Ralph, the
gate porter, who had been punished by Robert the prior with the assent
of all the monastery, Samson upset the proceedings on his return from
London, and, after a violent struggle, got his own way (179-83).
There is a pleasing affectation of impartiality in the case of another
Herbert, the junior candidate for the office of Prior, on the
much-worried Robert's death in 1200. The monks were conscious that
Samson "would seek the advice of each with great show of formality,"
but that the affair would end as he had all along intended (193). On
the day of election the Precentor was egged on by one of the elder
brethren in an audible aside to nominate Herbert. Samson behaved as if
this was a new light to him, but offered no objection to receive
Herbert if the convent willed. And so, after a protestation of his
unworthiness, Herbert was elected (196); and Jocelin tried, after
these bare-faced proceedings, to recover his equanimity in the porch
of the guest-chamber (197).
=Samson as an Administrator.=--Samson seems to have been something
of a financial genius; he certainly freed the monastery from debt, and
brought its internal affairs and its landed estates from chaos into
order. He was undoubtedly more of an administrator than an
ecclesiastic. He obviously enjoyed his ceremonial duties as
Commissioner for the King or for the Pope. He went to the siege of
Windsor in 1193 in martial array, though Jocelin is constrained to
admit that he was "more remarkable there for counsel than for piety"
(82). He appeared to be in his highest spirits when he went to
Coventry in January, 1198, to help to restore the monks there who had
been ejected by their somewhat truculent Bishop, Hugh de Nonant.
Samson gave magnificent entertainments at Oxford, where the Commission
sat, and "never in his life did he seem so joyful as at that time"
(143).
He was fond, too, of country life, spending much time at his manors of
Melford and elsewhere, "enclosing many parks, which he replenished
with beasts of chase, and keeping a huntsman with dogs," though
Jocelin is careful to add that he "never saw him take part in the
sport" (43). With some of these dogs Samson appeased Richard's wrath
when he flouted the king as to a disputed wardship (149). One of the
complaints against him by those who chafed under his rule was that he
was fond of betaking himself to his manors, and Jocelin's excuse for
him is that "the abbot is more in spirits and in good humour elsewhere
than at home" (53). Jocelin took him to task over this, but had a text
from Ecclesiasticus hurled at his head, which induced him to "hold his
peace henceforth" (54).
With broader outlook than his obedientiaries, Samson recognized the
necessity of granting greater freedom to the inhabitants of the town
of Bury, and, despite the grumbling of his monks, he gave the
burgesses a Charter in 1194 (116). The resentment against him in the
monastery ran so high in 1199 that he professed to be afraid of his
life (182). Though matters were then patched up, the old feeling of
indignation against his concessions to the townsfolk endured, and an
occasion for manifesting it arose when, early in 1203, Samson was
summoned by King John to advise him on a brief sent by the Pope as to
the dispensation of certain Crusaders from their vows. To the
undisguised astonishment of Jocelin, Samson sought the advice of the
monastery, "a thing he heretofore had seldom done" (207); but he was
boldly asked what he proposed to do to get back the lost privileges of
the Abbey (210). He was then "weakened by infirmity of body, humbled,
and (as was not his wont) timid" (207); and it must be remembered that
he was by this time not far short of seventy years of age. He spoke
the monks fair, promised redress, and "that upon his return he would
co-operate with us in everything, and make just order and disposition,
and render to each what was justly his" (211).
Jocelin hints by a quotation from Ovid that there was some
apprehension that this promise would remain unfulfilled: and then in
Carlyle's words--
Jocelin's Boswellian narrative, suddenly shorn through by the
scissors of Destiny, ends. Impenetrable Time-curtains rush down.
Monks, Abbot, Hero-Worship, Government, Obedience, Coeur de Lion,
and St. Edmund's Shrine, vanish like Mirza's vision; and there is
nothing left but a mutilated black ruin amid green botanic expanses.
=Epilogue.=--As to what happened to Samson after he returned from
the visit to his sovereign, we have no information whatever from any
known source. Perhaps when he had reached the allotted span of life,
he came to feel that the time had arrived to take things more easily,
and to be less inelastic in his governance of the Abbey. The last nine
years of his chequered life are an absolute blank so far as the
available records are concerned, if we except his execution of certain
formal documents included in the Suffolk Feet of Fines. But when at
last, at the ripe age of 77, he died on the 30th December, 1211, at
twilight (_inter lupum et canem_), on the night of the feast of St.
Thomas the Martyr, a tenderer feeling towards him obviously existed
amongst his monks.
The compiler of the _Annales Sancti Edmundi_ (who from the last phrase
but one would seem to have been a contemporary) thus records his
decease:--
On the sixth day of Christmas, at St. Edmund's, died Samson, of pious
memory, the venerable abbot of this place. Who, after he had for
thirty years prosperously ruled the Abbey committed to him, and had
freed it from a load of debt,--had enriched it with privileges,
liberties, possessions, and spacious buildings, and had restored the
worship of the church, both internally and externally, in the most
ample manner, bidding his last farewell to his sons, by whom the
blessed man deserved to be blessed for evermore, while they all were
standing by, and gazing with awe at a death which was a cause for
admiration, not for regret (_non miserabilem sed mirabilem_), in the
fourth year of the interdict rested in peace (Arnold, ii. 19, 20).
"In the fourth year of the Interdict": there is a significance in
these words not perhaps immediately apparent. During the last few
years of Samson's life, public worship in his beloved abbey was
stopped; the altars were stripped, and the church doors closed, in
view of the interdict hurled at the recalcitrant John by the Pope in
March, 1208. More trying than this to the feelings of the age was the
requirement that the dead should be buried in silence and in
unconsecrated ground. So Samson was laid by his sorrowing monks in the
bosom of mother earth "in pratello," where he remained until after the
Interdict was removed in July, 1214. The writer of the _Electio
Hugonis_ records, in barbarous Latin (Arnold, ii. 85), that on August
9 of that year the sacrist raised the question as to the proper
interment of Samson "of venerable memory." The prior (Herbert), the
cantor and Master Thomas of Walsingham, with other high officials,
thought Samson ought, for greater honour, to be buried in the Abbey
church. The sacrist--William of Gravelee, of whose uncompromising
character we have had a glimpse before--was alone in resisting this,
saying that so long as he had any power in the matter, neither Samson
nor any one else should be buried in the church. As the sacrist was
the responsible official this objection could apparently not be got
over, and so on August 12, 1214, the remains of Samson were exhumed,
and reburied in the chapter-house, which in the days of his life had
resounded to that eloquence of which Jocelin speaks (62).
What happened to the chapter house after the suppression of the Abbey
in 1539 is not known; but it seems probable that when the lead of its
roof was stripped off, it was left to crumble to decay by itself, for
some recent excavations in the winter of 1902-3 brought to light
quantities of beautifully worked stone, granite and marble columns,
and fragments of stained glass.
On New Year's Day of this year five stone coffins, each with a
skeleton within, and a sixth skeleton (uncoffined) were found under
the floor of the chapter-house in the exact positions in which a MS.
of circa 1425, now preserved at Douai, records the burial places of
Samson, two of his predecessors, and three of his successors as
Abbots; and there can be no reasonable doubt therefore that those who,
like myself, were privileged to be associated with these excavations,
have gazed upon the mortal remains of one of the grandest and most
picturesque figures of Angevin times.
* * * * *
I am indebted to many friends for hints and suggestions in the
preparation of the Notes in Appendix II., especially to Lord Francis
Hervey, Dr. Montague R. James, and Mr. Francis Ford, all three of whom
have intimate personal knowledge of Bury St. Edmunds and its history.
In addition, Dr. James has been good enough to critically compare the
English text of the Chronicle with the Latin original, and has made
many valuable improvements, for which my especial thanks are due to
him. Mr. R. W. Chambers, M.A., Librarian of University College, has
also given me much assistance in the revision of the text in the
compilation of the Index.
13A, HANOVER SQUARE, W.
_May_, 1903.
And to procede ferthere in this mater,
Yf ye list aduertise in your mynde,
An exaumplaire and a meror cler,
In this story ye shal now seen and fynde.
So as I kan, in soth I will nat spare
But heer in ordre reherse by wrytyng,
Folwyng myn auctours in euery maner thyng,
As in substance vpon the lettre in deede,
To do plesance to them that shal it reede.
JOHN LYDGATE.
(_Harleian MS._ 2278: _lines_ 417-20, 426-30.)
CHAPTER I
BURY ABBEY UNDER ABBOT HUGH
That which I have heard and seen have I taken in hand to write, which
in our days has come to pass in the Church of St. Edmund, from the
year when the Flemings were taken captive without the town, at which
time I took upon me the religious habit, being the same year wherein
prior Hugh was deposed, and Robert made prior in his stead: and I have
mingled in my narration some evil deeds by way of warning, and some
good by way of profit.
Now, at that time, Hugh the abbot was old, and his eyes were somewhat
dim. A pious and kind man was he, a good and religious monk, yet not
wise or far-sighted in worldly affairs; one who relied too much on his
officers, and put faith in them, rather taking counsel of others than
abiding by his own judgment.
To be sure, the Rule and the religious life, and all pertaining
thereto were healthy enough in the cloister, but outdoor affairs were
badly managed; inasmuch as every one serving under a simple and
already aged lord did what he would, not what he should.
The townships of the abbot and all the hundreds were set to farm, the
forests were destroyed, the manor houses threatened to fall,
everything daily got worse and worse. One resource only the abbot had,
and that was to take up moneys on interest, so that thereby he might
be able in some measure to keep up the dignity of his house. There
befel not a term of Easter or St. Michael, for eight years before his
decease, but that one or two hundred pounds at least increased in
principal debt; the securities were always renewed, and the interest
which accrued was converted into principal.
This laxity descended from the head to the members, from the superior
to the subjects. Hence it came to pass that every official of the
house had a seal of his own, and bound himself in debt at his own
pleasure, to Jews as well as to Christians. Oftentimes silken copes
and golden cruetts, and other ornaments of the church, were pledged
without the knowledge of the convent. I myself saw a security passed
to William Fitz Isabel for one thousand and forty pounds, but I never
could learn the consideration or the cause. I also saw another
security passed to Isaac, the son of Rabbi Joce, for four hundred
pounds, but I know not wherefore. I also saw a third security passed
to Benedict, the Jew of Norwich, for eight hundred and eighty pounds;
and this was the origin of that debt.
Our parlour was destroyed, and it was given in charge to William the
sacrist, will he, nill he, that he should restore it. He privily
borrowed from Benedict the Jew forty marks at interest, and gave him a
security sealed with a certain seal, which used to hang at the shrine
of St. Edmund, wherewith the gilds and letters of fraternity were wont
to be sealed: a seal which later on, but alas! too late, was broken by
order of the convent. Now, when this debt had increased to one hundred
pounds, the Jew came bearing a letter from our lord the King, touching
the debt of the sacrist; and then it was that all that had been secret
from the abbot and convent was laid bare.
The abbot waxed exceedingly wroth, and wished to depose the sacrist,
alleging that he possessed a privilege of our lord the pope, giving
him power of deposing William, his sacrist, whensoever it pleased him.
Howbeit, some one went to the abbot, and excusing the sacrist, so
wheedled the abbot that he permitted a security to be passed to
Benedict the Jew for four hundred pounds, payable at the end of four
years, namely, for one hundred pounds, which had then already accrued
for interest, and also for another hundred pounds, which the same Jew
had advanced to the sacrist for the use of the abbot. And the sacrist
in full chapter undertook for the whole of that debt to be paid, and a
deed was drawn up and sealed with the conventual seal: the abbot
dissimulating, and not affixing his own seal, as if that debt was no
concern of his.
But at the end of the four years, there were no means of discharging
the debt; and then a fresh deed was executed for eight hundred and
eighty pounds, payable at set terms, at the rate of eighty pounds a
year. Moreover, the same Jew had many other securities of smaller
account, and one which was for fourteen years; so this debt alone came
to one thousand and two hundred pounds, besides the interest that had
accrued.
Now R., the almoner of our lord the King, coming to us, signified to
the abbot that such and such information had reached the King
concerning such and such debts. Thereupon, after consultation had
between the prior and a few others, the almoner was conducted into the
chapter house, where all of us being seated, and holding our peace,
the abbot said, "Look you, here is the King's almoner, our and your
lord and friend, who, moved by the love of God and of St. Edmund, has
intimated to us that the King has heard something wrong of us and you,
and particularly that the affairs of the church, both internally and
externally, are being badly managed; and therefore I desire and
command that, upon your vow of obedience, ye state and explain openly
how things really are." Hereupon the prior, standing up and speaking
as one for all, said that the church was in good order, that the Rule
was strictly and religiously observed indoors, and that matters out of
doors were carefully and discreetly conducted, save some slight debt,
in which ourselves, like our neighbours, were involved; but that, in
fact, there was no debt which could embarrass us. The almoner, hearing
this, said he was rejoiced that he had heard the testimony of the
convent concerning this matter: meaning, what the prior had said.
The very same words the prior upon another occasion used, as did
Master Geoffry of Constantine, speaking on behalf of and excusing the
abbot, when Richard the archbishop, in virtue of his office as legate,
visited our chapter, before we had such exemption as we now enjoy.
I myself, who was at that time a novice, on a convenient occasion,
talked these things over with the master who instructed me in the
Rule, and to whose care I was committed,--namely, Master Samson, who
afterwards became abbot. "What is this," I said, "that I hear? How can
you hold your tongue while you see and hear such things, you who are a
cloistered monk, and desire not offices, and fear God more than man?"
But he answering, said, "My son, the newly burnt child dreads the
fire; so it is with me and many others. Hugh, the prior, has been
lately deprived of his office and sent into exile; Dennis and Hugh and
Roger of Hengham have but lately returned home from exile. Even I, in
like manner, was imprisoned, and afterwards sent to Acre, because we
spoke for the good of our church, in opposition to the abbot. This is
the hour of darkness; this is the time when flatterers rule and are
believed, and their might is strengthened, and we can do nothing
against it; these things must be borne with for a time. 'Let the Lord
look upon it and judge.'"
Now a rumour reached Abbot Hugh that Richard, Archbishop of
Canterbury, proposed coming to make a visitation of our church by
virtue of his authority as legate; and thereupon the abbot, after
consultation, sent to Rome and sought a privilege of exemption from
the power of the aforesaid legate. On the messenger's return from Rome
there was not wherewith to discharge what he had promised to our lord
the pope and the cardinals, except, indeed, under the special
circumstances of the case, the cross which was over the high altar,
the little image of the Virgin, and the St. John (which images
archbishop Stigand had adorned with a vast quantity of gold and
silver, and had given to St. Edmund).
There were certain of our convent who, being on terms of intimacy with
the abbot, said that the shrine of St. Edmund itself ought to be
stripped, as the means of obtaining such a privilege. But these
persons did not consider the great peril that the possession of such a
privilege might entail; for if there should hereafter be any abbot of
ours who chose to waste the possessions of the church, and to despoil
his convent, then there would be no one to whom the convent could
complain touching the wrongs done by an abbot, as he would have no
reason to fear a bishop, archbishop, or legate, and his impunity would
lend him the courage to transgress.
In these days the cellarer, as well as other officials, borrowed
moneys at interest from Jurnet the Jew (without apprising the
convent), upon a security sealed with the above-mentioned seal. Now,
when that debt had mounted up to sixty pounds, the convent was
summoned to pay the cellarer's debt. The cellarer was deposed,
although he said it was hard to deal thus with him, stating that for
three years he had entertained in the guest-house by the abbot's
orders, whether the abbot were in residence or not, all the guests
which the abbot ought himself to entertain, according to the rule of
the abbey.
Master Dennis was made cellarer in his stead, and by his
circumspection and good management he reduced the debt of sixty pounds
to thirty pounds; towards which debt we applied those thirty marks
which Benedict of Blakenham gave to the convent for holding the manors
of Nowton and Whepsted. But the securities of the Jew have remained
with the Jew even to this day, wherein are contained the twenty-six
pounds of principal and interest of the cellarer's debt.
Now, on the third day after Master Dennis became cellarer, three
knights with their esquires were received in the guest-house that they
might there be refreshed, the abbot then being at home, and abiding in
his inner chamber; all which, when this great-souled Achilles had
heard, not willing to pay toll in his own domain, as the others had
done, he rose up and took the key of the cellar, and taking with him
those knights to the abbot's hall, and approaching the abbot, said,
"My lord, you well know that the rule of the abbey is, that knights
and lay folk should be entertained in your hall, if the abbot be at
home. I neither will nor can receive those guests whom it belongs to
you to entertain; else take back the keys of your cellar, and appoint
some other cellarer at your good pleasure." The abbot hearing this,
nill he, will he, entertained those knights, and ever afterwards
entertained knights and lay folk according to the ancient rule, and so
they are still received when the abbot is at home.
Once upon a time, Abbot Hugh, wishing to conciliate Master Samson,
appointed him sub-sacrist; and he, often accused, was often
transferred from one office to another. At one time he was appointed
guest-master, at another time pittance-master, at another time third
prior, and again sub-sacrist; and many were then his enemies who
afterwards flattered him. But he, not acting as the other officials
did, never could be induced to turn flatterer; whereupon the abbot
said that he had never seen a man whom he could not bend to his will,
except Samson the sub-sacrist.
In the twenty-third year of his abbacy, Abbot Hugh bethought him that
he would go to St. Thomas for the purpose of performing his devotions.
He had nearly got to the end of his journey, on the morrow of the
nativity of the Blessed Mary, when, near Rochester, he most unhappily
fell from his horse, so that his knee-pan was put out and lodged in
the ham of his knee. The physicians came about him, and sorely
tormented him, but they healed him not. He was brought back to us in a
horse-litter, and received with great attention, as was most fitting.
What more? His leg mortified, and the disorder mounted to his heart.
The pain brought on a tertian fever, and on the fourth fit he expired,
and rendered his soul to God on the morrow of St. Brice.
Ere he was dead, everything was snatched away by his servants, so that
nothing at all remained in the abbot's house except the stools and the
tables, which could not be carried away. There was hardly left for the
abbot his coverlet and two quilts, old and torn, which some, who had
taken away the good ones, had placed in their stead. There was not
even a single article of a penny's worth that could be distributed
among the poor for the good of his soul.
The sacrist said it was not his business to have attended to this,
alleging that he had furnished the expenditure of the abbot and his
household for one whole month, because neither the firmars who held
the vills would pay anything before the appointed time, nor would
creditors advance anything, seeing that he was sick even unto death.
Luckily, the farmer of Palgrave furnished us with fifty shillings to
be distributed among the poor, by reason that he entered upon the farm
of Palgrave on that same day. But those very fifty shillings were
afterwards again refunded to the King's bailiffs, who demanded the
whole farm-rent for the King's use.
CHAPTER II
THE MONKS DISCUSS THE VACANCY
Hugh the abbot being buried, it was ordered in chapter that some one
should give intelligence to Ranulf de Glanville, the justiciar of
England, of the death of the abbot. Master Samson and Master R.
Ruffus, our monks, quickly went beyond seas, to report the same fact
to our lord the King, and obtained letters that those possessions and
rents of the monastery, which were distinct from those of the abbot,
should be wholly in the hands of the prior and convent, and that the
remainder of the abbey should be in the hands of the King. The
wardship of the abbey was committed to Robert of Cockfield and Robert
of Flamville, the steward, who forthwith put by gage and safe pledges
all those servants and relatives of the abbot to whom the abbot had,
after the commencement of his illness, given anything, or who had
taken anything away belonging to the abbot, and also the abbot's
chaplain (a monk of the house), whom the prior bailed. Entering into
our vestiary, they caused all the ornaments of the church to be noted
down in an inventory.
During the vacancy in the abbacy, the prior, above all things, studied
to keep peace in the convent, and to preserve the honour of the church
in entertaining guests, being desirous of irritating no one, of not
provoking anybody to anger; in fact, of keeping all persons and things
in quietude. He nevertheless winked at some acts in our officials
which needed reformation, and especially in the sacrist, as if he
cared not how that officer dealt with the sacristy. Yet during the
vacancy, the sacrist neither satisfied any debt nor erected any
building, but the oblations and incomings were foolishly frittered
away.
Wherefore the prior, who was the head of the convent, seemed by the
greater part to be highly censurable, and was said to be remiss; and
this thing our brethren called to mind among themselves, when it came
to the point of making choice of an abbot.
Our cellarer entertained all guests, of whatsoever condition they
were, at the expense of the convent. William the sacrist, on his part,
gave and spent as he chose, kind man! giving alike what he should and
should not; "blinding the eyes of all with gifts."
Samson the sub-sacrist, being master over the workmen, did his best
that no breach, chink, crack or flaw should be left unrepaired so far
as he was able; whereby he acquired great favour with the convent, and
especially with the cloister monks. In those days our choir was
erected by Samson's exertion; and he arranged the order of the
paintings, and composed elegiac verses for them. He also made a great
draught of stone and sand for building the great tower of the church.
Being asked whence he procured the money for his work, he answered
that certain of the burgesses had privily given him moneys for
building and completing the tower.
Nevertheless, certain of our brethren said that Warin, a monk of our
house and keeper of the shrine, together with Samson the sub-sacrist,
had conspired to remove some portion of the offerings to the shrine,
in order that they might disburse the same for the necessary purposes
of the church, and in particular for the building of the tower; being
the more ready to believe this when they saw that the offerings were
expended for extraordinary purposes by others, who, to speak plainly,
stole them. And these before-named two men, in order to remove from
themselves the suspicion of any such pious theft, made a certain
hollow trunk, with a hole in the middle or at the top, and fastened
with an iron lock. This they caused to be set up in the great church,
near the door without the choir, where the common people usually pass,
so that persons should put their contributions therein for the
building of the tower.
Now William the sacrist had a jealousy of his companion Samson, as had
many others who took part with the same William, Christians as well as
Jews; the Jews, I say, to whom the sacrist was said to be father and
protector, whose protection they indeed enjoyed, having free ingress
and egress, and going all over the monastery, rambling about the
altars and by the shrine while high mass was being celebrated.
Moreover, their moneys were kept safe in our treasury, under the care
of the sacrist, and, what was still more improper, their wives with
their little ones were lodged in our pittancy in time of war. His
enemies or opponents having, therefore, consulted together how they
might suddenly overcome Samson, they conferred with Robert of
Cockfield and his colleague, who were wardens of the abbey, and
persuaded them to this--that they should, on behalf of the King,
forbid any one to erect any fabric or building so long as the abbacy
was vacant; but that, on the other hand, the moneys from the offerings
should be collected, and kept for the purpose of discharging some
debt.
And thus was Samson beguiled, and his "strength departed from him,"
nor could he from thenceforth labour as he had desired. Indeed, his
opponents were able to delay, but not annul, his purpose; for having
regained his strength, and "pulled down the two pillars," that is,
having removed the two wardens of the abbey, upon whom the malice of
others relied, the Lord gave him, in process of time, the means of
fulfilling his desire of building the aforesaid tower, and of
finishing it even as he wished. And so it was, as if it had been said
to him from above, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant; thou
hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many
things."
During the time that the abbacy was vacant we oftentimes, as was our
duty, besought God and the holy martyr St. Edmund that they would
vouchsafe to us and our church a meet shepherd, thrice every week
singing the seven penitential psalms prostrate in the choir, after
going forth from chapter. There were some amongst us who, had it been
known who was to be abbot, would not have prayed so devoutly.
As concerned the choice of an abbot, assuming the King gave us free
election, divers men spoke in divers ways--some publicly, some
privately; and "so many men, so many opinions."
One said of another, "That brother is a good monk, a likely person; he
is well conversant with the Rule and custom of the house; although he
may not be so perfect a philosopher as certain others, he would make a
very good abbot. Abbot Ording was not a learned man, and yet he was a
good abbot, and governed this house wisely: we read, too, in the
fable, that it had been better for the frogs to have chosen a log for
a king, upon whom they might rely, than a serpent, who venomously
hissed, and after his hisses devoured his subjects."
Another would answer, "How may this be? How can an unlearned man
deliver a sermon in chapter, or to the people on festivals? How can he
who does not understand the Scriptures attain the knowledge of
'binding and loosing'? seeing that the cure of souls is the art of
arts and science of sciences. God forbid that a dumb image should be
set up in the Church of St. Edmund, where many learned and studious
men are well known to be."
Also said one of another, "That brother is a good clerk, eloquent and
careful, strict in the Rule; he has much loved the convent, and has
undergone many hardships in respect of the possessions of the church:
he is worthy to be made abbot." Another answered, "From good clerks,
Good Lord, deliver us: that it may please Thee to preserve us from the
barrators of Norfolk, we beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord."
Moreover, one said of another, "That brother is a good manager, which
is proved from his department, and from the offices which he has well
served, and by the buildings and reparations which he has performed.
He is able to travail for and defend the house, and is, moreover,
something of a clerk, although 'much learning has not made him mad':
he is worthy to be made abbot." Another answered, "God forbid that a
man who can neither read nor chant, nor perform Divine service--a
wicked and unjust man, and a grinder of the faces of the poor--should
be abbot."
Also said one of another, "That brother is a kind man, affable and
amiable, peaceful and well-regulated, open-hearted and liberal, a
learned man and an eloquent, a proper man enough in looks and
deportment, and beloved by many, indoors as well as out; and such a
man might, with God's permission, become abbot to the great honour of
the church." The other answered, "It is no honour, but rather a
burden, to have a man who is too nice in his meat and drink; who
thinks it a virtue to sleep long; who is expert in spending much, and
yet gets little; who is snoring when others are awake; who always is
desirous to be in plenty, nor yet cares for the debts which increase
from day to day, nor considers the means of discharging expenses;
hating anxiety and trouble; caring for nought so long as one day comes
and another goes; a man cherishing and fostering flatterers and liars;
a man who is one thing in name and another in deed. From such a
prelate defend us, O Lord!"
Also said a certain one of his fellow, "That man is almost wiser than
all of us put together, both in secular and ecclesiastical matters; a
wonderful counsellor, strict in rule, learned and eloquent, and of
proper stature; such a prelate would do honour to our church."
The other answered, "True, if he were of known and approved
reputation. His character is questionable; report may lie, or it may
not. And although the man you mean is wise, of lowly carriage in
chapter, devout in psalmody, strict in the cloister whilst he is in
the cloister, yet it is mere outward show with him. What if he do
excel in any office? He is too scornful, lightly esteems the monks, is
closely intimate with secular persons; and should he be angry,
scarcely returns an answer with a good grace to any brother, or to one
even asking a question of him."
I heard in like manner one brother disparaged by some, because he was
slow of speech; of whom it was said that he had paste or malt in his
mouth when he was called upon to speak. And as for myself, being at
that time a youth, "I understood as a youth, I spoke as a youth;" and
said I never could consent that any one should be made abbot unless he
knew somewhat of dialectics, and knew how to discern truth from
falsehood. Again, a certain person, who in his own eyes seemed very
wise, said, "May the almighty Lord bestow on us a foolish and simple
shepherd, so that it should be the more needful for him to get help
from us!"
I heard in like manner a certain studious and learned man, and
honourable by the nobility of his family, disparaged by some of our
seniors merely for this reason--because he was a novice. The
novices, on the other hand, said of the elders, that old men were
valetudinarians, by no means fit to govern a monastery. And thus many
persons spoke many things, "and each was fully persuaded in his own
mind."
I observed Samson the sub-sacrist as he was sitting along with the
others at blood-letting season (at which time monks are wont to reveal
to each other the secrets of the heart, and to talk over matters with
each other). I saw him, I say, sitting along with the others, smiling
and saying nothing, but noting the words of each, and after a lapse of
twenty years calling to mind some of the before-written opinions. In
whose hearing I used to reply to these critics, that if we were to put
off the choice of an abbot until we found one who was above
disparagement or fault, we never should find such a one, for no one
alive is without fault, and "no estate is in all respects blessed."
Upon one particular occasion I was unable to restrain myself but must
needs blurt out my own private opinion, thinking that I spoke to
trusty ears. I then said that a certain person who formerly had a
great regard for me, and had conferred many benefits upon me, was
unworthy of the abbacy, and that another was more worthy; in fact, I
named one for whom I had less regard.
I spoke according to my own conscience, rather considering the common
weal of the church than my own advancement; and what I said was true,
as the sequel proved. And, behold, one of the sons of Belial disclosed
my saying to my friend and benefactor; for which reason, even to this
day, never could I since, neither by entreaty nor good offices, regain
his goodwill to the full. "What I have said I have said." "And the
word once spoken flies without recall."
One thing remains, that I take heed to my ways for the future; and if
I should live so long as to see the abbacy vacant, I shall consider
carefully what, to whom, and when I speak on such a matter, lest I
either offend God by lying, or man by speaking unreasonably. I shall
then advise (should I last so long), that we choose not too good a
monk, nor yet an over-wise clerk, neither one too simple nor too weak;
lest, if he be over wise in his own conceit, he may be too confident
in his own judgment, and contemn others; or, if he be too boorish, he
may become a byword to others; I know that it has been said, "In the
middle you will be safest," also that "Blessed are they who hold a
middle course."
Perhaps, after all, it may be the best course to hold my peace
altogether, and say in my heart, "He that is able to receive it, let
him receive it."
The abbacy being vacant, Augustine, the Archbishop of Norway, took up
his abode with us, in the house of the abbot, receiving by the King's
precept ten shillings a day from the revenues of the abbey. He was of
considerable assistance in obtaining for us our free election, bearing
witness of what was well, and publicly declaring before the King what
he had seen and heard.
At that time the holy child Robert suffered martyrdom, and was buried
in our church; and many signs and wonders were wrought among the
people, as we have elsewhere written.
CHAPTER III
THE CHOICE OF A NEW ABBOT
One year and three months having elapsed since the death of Abbot
Hugh, the King commanded by his letters that our prior and twelve of
the convent, in whose mouth the judgment of our body might agree,
should appear on a certain day before him, to make choice of an abbot.
On the morrow, after the receipt of the letters, we all of us met in
chapter for the purpose of discussing so important a matter. In the
first place the letters of our lord the King were read to the convent;
next we besought and charged the prior, at the peril of his soul, that
he would, according to his conscience, name twelve who were to
accompany him, from whose life and conversation it might be depended
upon that they would not swerve from the right; who, acceding to our
charge, by the dictation of the Holy Ghost named six from one side and
six from the other side of the choir, and without gainsaying satisfied
us on this point. From the right-hand choir were named--Geoffrey of
Fordham, Benedict, Master Dennis, Master Samson the sub-sacrist, Hugh
the third prior, and Master Hermer, at that time a novice; from the
left-hand side--William the sacrist, Andrew, Peter de Broc, Roger the
cellarer, Master Ambrose, Master Walter the physician.
But one said, "What shall be done if these thirteen cannot agree
before our lord the King in the choice of an abbot?" A certain one
answered that that would be to us and to our church a perpetual shame.
Therefore, many were desirous that the choice should be made at home
before the rest departed, so that by this forecast there should be no
disagreement in the presence of the King. But that seemed a foolish
and inconsistent thing to do, without the King's assent; for as yet it
was by no means a settled thing that we should be able to obtain a
free election from the King.
Then said Samson the sub-sacrist, speaking by the spirit of God, "Let
there be a middle course, so that from either side peril may be
avoided. Let four confessors be chosen from the convent, together with
two of the senior priors of the convent, men of good reputation, who,
in the presence of the holy relics, shall lay their hands upon the
Gospels, and choose amongst themselves three men of the convent most
fit for this office, according to the rule of St. Benedict, and put
their names into writing. Let them close up that writing with a seal,
and so being closed up, let it be committed to us who are about to go
to the court. When we shall have come before the King, and it shall
appear that we are to have a free election, then, and not till then,
shall the seal be broken, and so shall we be sure as to the three who
are to be nominated before the King. And let it be agreed amongst us,
that in case our lord the King shall not grant to us one of ourselves,
then the seal shall be brought back intact, and delivered to the six
under oath, so that this secret of theirs shall remain for ever
concealed, at the peril of their souls." In this counsel we all
acquiesced, and four confessors were then named; namely, Eustace,
Gilbert of Alveth, Hugh the third prior, Anthony, and two other old
men, Thurstan and Ruald. Which being done, we went forth chanting
"Verba mea," and the aforesaid six remained behind, having the rule of
St. Benedict in their hands; and they fulfilled that business as it
had been pre-ordained.
Now, whilst these six were treating of their matter, we were thinking
differently of different candidates, all of us taking it for granted
that Samson would be one of the three, considering his travails and
perils of death in his journey to Rome for the advancement of our
church, and how he was badly treated and put in irons and imprisoned
by Hugh the abbot, merely for speaking for the common weal; for he
could not be induced to flatter, although he might be forced to hold
his tongue.
After some delay, the convent being summoned returned to chapter; and
the old men said they had done as they were commanded. Then the prior
asked, "How shall it be if our lord the King will not receive any of
those three who are nominated in the writing?" And it was answered
that whomsoever our lord the King should be willing to accept should
be adopted, provided he were a professed monk of our house. It was
further added, that if those thirteen brethren should see anything
that ought to be amended by another writing, they should so amend it
by common assent or counsel.
Samson the sub-sacrist, sitting at the feet of the prior, said, "It
will be profitable for the church if we all swear by the word of truth
that upon whomsoever the lot of election shall fall, he should treat
the convent according to reason, nor change the chief officers without
the assent of the convent, nor surcharge the sacrist, nor admit any
one to be a monk without assent of the convent." And to this we all of
us assented, holding up our right hands in token of assent. It was,
moreover, provided, that if our lord the King should desire to make a
stranger our abbot, such person should not be adopted by the thirteen,
unless upon counsel of the brethren remaining at home.
Upon the morrow, therefore, those thirteen took their way to court.
Last of all was Samson, the purveyor of their charges, because he was
sub-sacrist, carrying about his neck a little box, in which were
contained the letters of the convent--as if he alone was the servant
of them all--and without an esquire, bearing his frock in his arms,
and going out of the court, he followed his fellows at a distance.
In their journey to the court, the brethren conversing all together,
Samson said that it would be well if they all swore that whosoever
should be made abbot should restore the churches of the lordships
belonging to the convent to the purposes of hospitality; whereto all
agreed, save the prior, who said, "We have sworn enough already; you
may so restrict the abbot that is to be, that I shall not care to
obtain the abbacy." Upon this occasion they swore not at all, and it
was well they did so, for had they sworn to this, the oath would not
have been observed.
On the very day that the thirteen departed we were all sitting
together in the cloister, when William of Hastings, one of our
brethren, said, "I know that we shall have one of our convent to be
abbot." And being asked how he came to be so certain of this, he
replied, that he had beheld in a dream a prophet clothed in white,
standing before the gates of the monastery, and that he asked him, in
the name of God, whether we should have an abbot of our own. And the
prophet answered, "You shall have one of your own body, but he shall
rage among you as a wolf"; of which dream the interpretation followed
in part, because the future abbot cared more to be feared than loved,
as many were accustomed to say.
There also sat along with us another brother, Edmund by name, who
asserted that Samson was about to be abbot, and told a vision he had
seen the previous night. He said he beheld in his dream Roger the
cellarer and Hugh the third prior, standing before the altar, and
Samson in the midst, taller by the shoulders upward, wrapt round with
a long gown down to his feet, looped over his shoulders, and standing
as a champion ready to do battle. And, as it seemed to him in his
dream, St. Edmund arose from his shrine, and, as if sickly, showed his
feet and legs bare. When some one approached and desired to cover the
feet of the saint, the saint said, "Approach me not; behold, he shall
veil my feet," pointing with his finger towards Samson. This is the
interpretation of the dream: By his seeming to be a champion is
signified that the future abbot should always be in travail; at one
time moving a controversy against the Archbishop of Canterbury,
concerning pleas of the Crown, at another time against the knights of
St. Edmund, to compel them to pay their escuages in full; at another
time with the burgesses for standing in the market; at another time
with the sokemen for the suits of the hundreds; even as a champion who
willeth by fighting to overcome his adversaries that he may be able to
gain the rights and liberties of his church. And he veiled the feet of
the holy martyr when he perfectly completed the towers of the church,
commenced a hundred years before.
Such dreams as these did our brethren dream, which were immediately
published throughout the cloister, afterwards through the court lodge,
so that before the evening it was a matter of common talk amongst the
townsfolk, they saying this man and that man are elected, and one of
them will be abbot.
At last the prior and the twelve that were with him, after many
fatigues and delays, stood before the King at Waltham, the manor of
the Bishop of Winchester, upon the second Sunday in Lent. The King
graciously received them; and, saying that he wished to act in
accordance with the will of God and the honour of our church,
commanded the brethren by prolocutors--namely, Richard the Bishop of
Winchester, and Geoffrey the chancellor, afterwards Archbishop of
York--that they should nominate three members of our convent.
The prior and brethren retiring as if to confer thereupon, drew forth
the sealed writing and opened it, and found the names written in this
order--Samson, sub-sacrista; Roger, celerarius; Hugo, tercius prior.
Hereupon those brethren who were of higher standing blushed with
shame; they also marvelled that this same Hugh should be at once
elector and elected. But, inasmuch as they could not alter what was
done, by mutual arrangement they changed the order of the names; first
naming Hugh, because he was third prior; secondly, Roger the cellarer;
thirdly, Samson, thus literally making the last first and the first
last.
The King, first inquiring whether they were born in his realm, and in
whose lordship, said he knew them not, directing that with those
three, some other three of the convent should be nominated. This being
assented to, William the sacrist said, "Our prior ought to be
nominated because he is our head," which was directly allowed. The
prior said, "William the sacrist is a good man"; the like was said of
Dennis, and that was settled. These being nominated before the King
without any delay, the King marvelled, saying, "These men have been
speedy in their work; God is with them."
Next the King commanded that, for the honour of his kingdom, they
should name three persons of other houses. On hearing this, the
brethren were afraid, suspecting some craft. At last, upon conference,
it was resolved that they should name three, but upon this
understanding, that they would not receive any one of those three,
unless by assent of the convent at home. And they named these
three--Master Nicholas of Waringford, afterwards (for a season) Abbot
of Malmesbury; Bertrand, Prior of St. Faith's, afterwards Abbot of
Chertsey; and Master H. of St. Neot's, a monk of Bec, a man highly
religious, and very circumspect in spiritual as well as temporal
affairs.
This being done, the King thanked them, and ordered that three should
be struck off of the nine; and forthwith the three strangers were
struck off, namely, the Prior of St. Faith's, afterwards Abbot of
Chertsey, Nicholas, a monk of St. Albans, afterwards Abbot of
Malmesbury, and the Prior of St. Neot's. William the sacrist
voluntarily retired, two of the five were struck out by command of the
King, and, ultimately, one out of the remaining three. There then
remained but two, the prior and Samson.
Then at length the before-named prolocutors of our lord the King were
called to the council of the brethren: and Dennis, speaking as one for
all, began by commending the persons of the prior and Samson, saying,
that each of them was learned, each was good, each was of meritorious
life and good character. But always in the corner of his discourse he
gave prominence to Samson, multiplying words in his praise, saying
that he was a man strict in life, severe in reforming excesses, and
ready to work hard; heedful, moreover, in secular matters, and
approved in various offices. The Bishop of Winchester replied, "We see
what it is you wish to say; from your address we gather that your
prior seems to you to have been somewhat remiss, and that, in fact,
you wish to have him who is called Samson." Dennis answered, "Either
of them is good, but, by God's help, we desire to have the best." To
whom the bishop, "Of two good men the better should be chosen. Speak
out at once; is it your wish to have Samson?" Whereupon several, in
fact the majority, answered clearly, "We do wish Samson." No one
gainsaid this, though some studiously held their peace, being fearful
of offending either one or the other.
Samson was then named to the King, and after a brief consultation with
those about him, the King called all in, and said, "You present to me
Samson--I know him not; had you presented to me your prior, I should
have accepted him, because I know and am well acquainted with him; but
now I will do as you desire me. Take heed to yourselves; by the very
eyes of God, if you have done ill, I shall call you to severe
account." And he inquired of the prior, whether he assented to this
choice and agreed thereto; who replied that he was well content it
should be so, and that Samson was worthy of a much greater dignity.
Then the elect, falling down at the King's feet and kissing them,
hastily arose, and forthwith went towards the altar, erect in gait,
and with unmoved countenance, singing "Miserere mei Deus," together
with his brethren.
The King, observing this, said to the bystanders, "By the eyes of God,
this abbot-elect thinks himself worthy to govern an abbey!"
CHAPTER IV
SAMSON'S INSTALLATION
Now when the news of the election arrived at the monastery, it
gladdened all the cloister monks and some of the officers also, but
only a few. "It is well," many said, "because it is well." Others
said, "Not so; verily we are all deceived." The elect, before he
returned to us, received his benediction from my lord of Winchester,
who, at the same time, placing the mitre on the head of the abbot, and
the ring on his finger, said, "This is the dignity of the abbots of
St. Edmund; my experience long since taught me this." The abbot,
therefore, keeping three monks with him, despatched the others
homewards, sending word by them of his intended arrival on Palm
Sunday, and giving charge to certain of them to provide the things
necessary for his day of festival.
As he returned homewards, a multitude of new relations came about him
offering to serve him, but he answered all of them that he was content
with the servants of the prior, nor could he retain others until he
had obtained the assent of the convent. Nevertheless, he retained one
knight who was well spoken and learned in the law, not so much upon
the score of relationship, but on account of his usefulness, he being
well practised in secular suits.
This knight he took, while he was fresh to the work, as an assessor in
secular controversies; for he was a new abbot, and inexperienced in
such concerns, as he himself was free to declare: indeed, before he
received the abbacy, he had never been present where gage and safe
pledge had been given.
With the accustomed honours, and with a procession, was he received by
his convent on Palm Sunday. The abbot's reception was in this wise:
overnight he lay at Kentford, and we, at the proper moment, went forth
from the chapter-house to meet him with great solemnity, up to the
gate of the cemetery, with ringing of bells inside the choir and
without. He himself was surrounded by a multitude of men, and when he
espied the fraternity, he dismounted from his horse outside the
threshold of the gate. Causing his shoes to be taken off, he was
received barefooted within the door, and conducted on each side by the
prior and sacrist.
We chanted the responses "Benedictus Dominus," in the office of the
Trinity, and then "Martyri adhuc," in the office of St. Edmund,
leading the abbot up to the high altar. This being finished, the
organs and bells were silenced, and the prayer, "Omnipotens sempiterne
Deus miserere huic," was said by the prior over the abbot, who was
prostrate. An offering was then made by the abbot, and kissing the
shrine, he returned into the choir. There Samson the precentor took
him by the hand and led him to the abbot's throne at the west end;
where, the abbot still standing, the precentor straight-way began, "Te
Deum laudamus," and whilst this was being sung, the abbot was kissed
by the prior and the whole convent in order. This done, the abbot
proceeded to the chapter-house, the whole convent following him, with
many others.
"Benedicite" having been said, in the first place he gave thanks to
the convent that they had chosen him--who was, he said, the least of
them all--to be their lord and shepherd, not on account of his own
merits, but solely by the will of God. And beseeching them briefly
that they would pray for him, he addressed his discourse to the clerks
and knights, requiring them that they should assist him with their
advice according to the burden of the charge entrusted to him. And
Wimer the sheriff, answering for them all, said, "We are ready to
stand by you in counsel and assistance on every occasion, as we did by
our dear lord whom God has called to his glory, and to the glory of
the holy martyr St. Edmund." And then were the charters of the King
concerning the gift of the abbacy produced and read in full audience.
Lastly, after a prayer by the abbot himself, that God might guide him
according to his Divine grace, and "Amen" being responded by all, he
retired to his chamber, spending his day of festival with more than a
thousand dinner guests with great rejoicing.
While these things were taking place I was the prior's chaplain, and
within four months was made the abbot's chaplain, noting many things,
and committing them to memory. On the morrow of his feast the abbot
called to him the prior and some few besides, as if seeking advice
from others, though he himself knew what he would do. He said that a
new seal should be made with a mitred effigy of him, although his
predecessors had not the like; but for a time he used the seal of our
prior, subscribing at the end of all letters, that he had no seal of
his own and therefore he used for the time that of the prior.
Afterwards, setting his household in order, he appointed divers
servants to various duties, saying that he had decided to have
twenty-six horses in his courtyard, and that a child must first creep
and then stand upright and walk. He enjoined this to his servants
beyond all things, that they should take heed that in his new state he
be not dishonoured by a lack of meat and drink, but rather that they
in all things should anxiously provide for the hospitality of the
house. In ordering and appointing these and all other things, he fully
relied upon God's providence and his own understanding, and judged it
beneath him to require counsel at another's hand as if he were not
able to look after his own affairs.
The monks marvelled, the knights were discontented, accusing him of
arrogance, and, in some measure censuring him at the King's court,
saying that he refused to govern according to the advice of his own
freemen. As for him, he removed from his own private counsel the heads
of the abbey, lay as well as clerical; indeed, all those without whose
advice and assistance the abbey, as it seemed, could not be governed.
By reason of this circumstance, Ranulf de Glanville, Justiciary of
England, at first held him in distrust, and was less gracious to him
than was fitting, until it was made clear, by good evidence, that the
abbot had been acting with due caution and prudence in respect of
indoor as well as external matters.
A general court having been summoned, all the barons, knights and
freemen appeared to do homage on the fourth day of Easter; when,
behold, Thomas of Hastings, with a great multitude of knights, came
introducing Henry his nephew, not yet a knight, claiming the
stewardship with its perquisites, according to the tenor of his
charter. To whom the abbot replied, "I do not refuse Henry his right,
nor do I wish so to do. If he were competent to serve me in his own
person, I would assign him necessaries for ten men and eight horses in
my own court-lodge, according to the tenor of his charter. If you
present to me a steward, his deputy, who is competent and able to
perform the duty, I will receive him in the same manner as my
predecessor retained him at the time of his decease, namely, with four
horses and their appurtenances. And if this does not content you, I
shall carry the plaint before the King or his chief justice." Hereupon
the business was deferred.
Ultimately there was presented to him a simple and foolish steward,
Gilbert by name, of whom, before he received him into his household,
he spoke to his friends as follows: "If there be a default in the
administration of the King's justice through the unskilfulness of the
steward, he will be in mercy of the King, and not I, for this, that he
claims the office by hereditary right; and therefore I had much rather
receive him for the present than a sharper witted man to deceive me.
By God's assistance I trust I shall be my own steward."
* * * * *
After receipt of the homages, the abbot sued for an aid from the
knights, who promised each twenty shillings; but immediately they took
counsel together and withheld twelve pounds in respect of twelve
knights, alleging that those twelve ought to assist the other forty in
keeping their castle-guards, and for their escuages, as well as in
respect of the abbot's aid. The abbot, hearing this, waxed wroth, and
said to his intimate friends that if he lived long enough he would
give them turn for turn and wrong for wrong.
CHAPTER V
THE NEW ABBOT'S REFORMS
After these things the abbot caused inquisition to be made throughout
each manor, concerning the annual quit rents from the freemen, and the
names of the labourers and their tenements, and the services due from
each; and he reduced all into writing. Likewise he repaired those old
halls and unroofed houses round which hovered kites and crows. He
built new chapels, and likewise inner chambers and upper stories in
many places where there never had been any dwelling-house at all, but
only barns. He also enclosed many parks, which he replenished with
beasts of chase, keeping a huntsman with dogs; and, upon the visit of
any person of quality, sat with his monks in some walk of the wood,
and sometimes saw the coursing of the dogs; but I never saw him take
part in the sport.
He cleared much land, and brought it into tillage, in all things
looking forward to the benefit likely to accrue to the abbey; but I
wish he had been equally careful in assigning the manors of the
convent. Nevertheless, he, for a time, kept our manors of Bradfield
and Rougham in hand, making up the deficiencies of the rents by the
expenditure of forty pounds. These he afterwards reassigned to us when
he heard that dissatisfaction was expressed in the convent, on account
of his keeping our manors in his own hand. Likewise in managing these
manors, as well as in all other matters, he appointed keepers who were
far more careful than their predecessors--some monks, some laymen, to
look after us and our lands more carefully.
He also held the eight hundreds in his own hand, and, after the death
of Robert of Cockfield, he took in hand the hundred of Cosford, all
which he committed to the keeping of those servants who were of his
own table; referring matters of greater moment to his own decision,
and deciding by means of others upon matters of lesser import--indeed,
wringing everything to his own profit.
Moreover, by his command, a general survey was made throughout the
hundreds of the leets and suits, of hidages and foddercorn, of
hen-rents, and of other dues and rents and issues, which, for the
greater part, had ever been concealed by the farmers. He reduced it
all to writing, so that within four years from the time of his
election, there was not one who could defraud him of the rents of the
abbey to the value of a single penny, whereas he himself had not
received from his predecessors any writing touching the management of
the abbey, except one small schedule, wherein were the names of the
knights of St. Edmund and the names of the manors, and what rent was
due on each farm. This book he called his kalendar, wherein also were
entered the debts he had satisfied; and this same book he almost daily
perused, as if in the same he were beholding the face of his honesty
in a glass.
The first day that he held a chapter, he confirmed to us, under his
new seal, sixty shillings from Southrey, which his predecessors had
unjustly received from Edmund, surnamed the golden monk, for the
liberty of holding the same vill to farm all the days of his life. He
also proposed, as a general rule, that from thenceforth no one should
pledge the ornaments of the church without the assent of the convent,
as had been the custom heretofore, nor that any charter should be
sealed with the convent seal, unless in chapter in the presence of the
convent. He appointed Hugh as sub-sacrist, ordering that William the
sacrist should not have anything to do with the sacristy, either in
the matter of receipt or disbursement, unless by his consent. After
this, but not on the same day, he transferred the former keepers of
the offerings to other offices; lastly, he deposed the same William:
wherefore those who liked William said, "Behold the abbot! Lo, here is
the wolf of whom it was dreamed! See how he rages!"
And some of them would have entered into a conspiracy against the
abbot. When this was disclosed to him, he, not caring to be altogether
silent, nor yet to disquiet the convent, entered the chapter-house on
the morrow, and pulled out a little bag full of cancelled deeds, the
seals yet hanging thereto, consisting of the securities, partly of his
predecessor, partly of the prior, partly of the sacrist, partly of the
chamberlain, and other officials, whereof the total was three thousand
and fifty-two pounds and one mark without alloy, besides the interest
that had accrued thereupon, the amount of which could never be
ascertained. All these he had arranged for within one year after his
election, and within twelve years entirely discharged. "Behold," said
he, "the good management of William, our sacrist; look at the
multitude of securities signed with his seal, whereby he has pledged
silken copes, dalmatics, censers of silver and books ornamented with
gold, without the knowledge of the convent, all which I have redeemed
and have restored to you."
He likewise added many other things, showing why he had deposed the
said William: howbeit he suppressed the real cause, not wishing to put
him to open shame. And when he put Samson the precentor in his place,
a person approved by us, and above all objection, everything was quiet
again. Furthermore, the abbot commanded that the houses of the sacrist
in the cemetery should be entirely plucked up, as though they were not
worthy to stand upon the earth, by reason of the frequent
wine-bibbings, and certain other acts not to be named, which he, with
grief and indignation, had witnessed while he was sub-sacrist. So
completely did he obliterate the whole that, within a year, upon the
spot where a noble dwelling had stood, we saw beans growing, and where
casks of wine had lain, nettles abounding.
After the end of Easter, the abbot went over every one of his and our
manors, as well as over those we had confirmed to the farmers in fee,
requiring from all of them aid and acknowledgment, according to the
law of the land. Thus every day he was increasing in secular
knowledge, and was turning his attention to the learning and method of
ordering outdoor affairs. Now when he had come to Warkton, where he
slept at night, there came to him a voice saying, "Samson, arise up
quickly"; and, again, "Get up without delay." Getting up astonished,
he looked around him, and perceived a light in a necessary house,
namely, a candle ready to fall down upon the straw, which Reiner the
monk had carelessly left there. When the abbot had put it out, going
through the house, he perceived the door (which was the sole entrance)
so fastened that it could only be opened by a key--likewise the
windows fastened: so that if a fire had arisen, he, and all with him,
who slept upon that floor, had surely perished, for there was no place
whence they might get out or escape.
At that time, wheresoever the abbot went, there came about him Jews as
well as Christians, demanding debts, and worrying and importuning him
so that he could not sleep. Thereupon he became pale and thin, and was
constantly repeating, "My heart will never rest until I know the
extent of my debts." The feast of St. Michael being come, he took all
his manors into his own hand, with but small store of live or dead
stock; he freely forgave Walter of Hatfield nineteen pounds arrears,
that he might absolutely take back four manors which Hugh the abbot
had confirmed to him, namely, Hargrave and Saxham and Chevington and
Stapleford; Harlow, indeed, the abbot deferred to take to himself on
the present occasion.
Once on a time, as we passed through the forest in returning from
London, I inquired in the hearing of my lord abbot, from an old woman
passing by, whose was this wood, and of what town, who was the lord,
and who was the keeper? She answered that the wood belonged to the
abbot of St. Edmund, as part of the town of Harlow, and that the name
of the keeper was Arnald. When I inquired further, how Arnald
conducted himself towards the men of the town, she answered, that he
was a devil incarnate, an enemy of God, and one to flay the poor
alive; but now, she added, he is afraid of the new abbot of St.
Edmund, whom he believes to be prudent and vigilant, and therefore he
treats the men gently. On hearing this, the abbot was delighted, and
deferred taking to the manor for a season.
At that time there came unexpectedly the news of the death of the wife
of Herlewin of Rungton, who had a charter to hold the same town for
her life; and the abbot said, "Yesterday, I would have given sixty
marks to have freed the manor from this incumbrance, but now God has
freed it." And as he was going thither without delay, that he might
take that town into his own hand, and on the morrow was going to
Tillener, a part of that manor, there came a certain knight offering
thirty marks for the tenure of that carucate of land, with the
appurtenances, by the old rent-service, to wit, four pounds, whereto
the abbot could not agree; and he had therefrom in that year
twenty-five pounds, and the second year twenty pounds.
These and such like things induced him to hold everything in his own
keeping; as it is written elsewhere, "Caesar was all in all." In the
first place, far from being inert, he commenced building barns and
byres, above all things solicitous to dress the land for tillage, and
watchful in preserving the woods, in respect whereof, either in giving
or diminishing, he confessed himself to be a very miser. There was but
one manor, and that was Thorpe, which by his charter he confirmed to
one of English birth, a villein, whose honesty he trusted the more, as
he was a good husbandman, and could not speak French.
Scarcely seven months had elapsed since his election, when, behold!
there were presented to him the letters of our lord the Pope,
appointing him a judge to determine causes, for the execution of which
he was incompetent and inexperienced, although he was thoroughly
imbued with liberal arts and divinity, as befitted a man of learning,
a literate man, educated in the schools and a master in them, known
and approved in his own province. Wherefore he invited two clerks,
learned in the law, and associated them to himself. Of their advice he
availed himself in ecclesiastical matters, employing himself upon the
decrees and decretal epistles, when an opportunity offered; so that
within a short time, as well by references to books as by the handling
of causes, he became reputed a discreet judge, proceeding in every
suit according to form of law; so a certain person said, "Cursed be
the court of this abbot, where neither gold nor silver can help me to
confound my adversary."
In process of time, becoming somewhat practised in secular causes, and
taught by an inborn commonsense, he became of so subtle a wit that all
marvelled; indeed, by Osbert Fitz-Hervey, the under-sheriff, it was
said, "This abbot is a wrangler; if he goes on as he has begun, he
will outwit us all, many as we be." Now the abbot becoming an expert
man in causes of this description, was made a justice errant, but yet
he preserved himself from error and corruption. But "envy aims at the
highest." When his men made their plaints to him in the court of St.
Edmund, because he was unwilling to give hasty judgment, or to
"believe every spirit," but preferred to proceed in due course of law,
well knowing that the merits of causes are developed by the
allegations of the parties, it was said of him that he would not do
justice to any complainant, unless by the intervention of money given
or promised.
Because his aspect was acute and penetrating, with a Cato-like
countenance, rarely smiling, it was said that he inclined to severity
rather than kindness. In receiving amerciaments for any forfeiture, it
was said that "Mercy rejoices against judgment"; for as it seemed to
many, when it became an affair of receiving money, he seldom remitted
what by law he was entitled to take.
In like manner as he advanced in wisdom, so did he advance in
thoughtful care, in respect of keeping and acquiring property, and in
creditably regulating his expenses. But even here many backbiters took
their ground, saying that he resorted to the sacristy at his own
pleasure, sparing his own purse, letting his corn lie by for a dear
season, and taking to his manors in other sort than his predecessors
did, charging the cellarer with the entertainment of those guests he
himself was bound to receive; so that by this craft it might be said
that the abbot was careful and well stocked at the end of the year;
while, on the other hand, the convent and officials were to be
accounted careless and improvident. In reply to these back-bitings, I
used to observe, that if he took anything from the sacrist, he turned
it to the good account of the church, and this none of these
slanderers could deny. And in good truth, greater and more numerous
works were carried out by the help of the offerings to the sacristy
within fifteen years after his election than in the forty years before
it.
To the other objections, that the abbot was fond of betaking himself
to his manors, I was wont to answer, and did excuse him, saying, "The
reason is because the abbot is more in spirits and in good humour
elsewhere than at home." And this was true enough, whether it were by
reason of the frequency of suitors who came about him, or from the
tale-bearers, wherefore it frequently happened that by the appearance
of severity in his face he lost much favour and grace in the eyes of
his guests, notwithstanding they fared well in eating and drinking. I
noticed this, and took an opportunity, when I was with him in private,
to say, "There are two things in which I am much surprised at you."
When he had inquired what these things might be, "One is that in spite
of your position you still encourage the doctrine of the school of
Melun, which says that from a false premiss no conclusion can follow,
and other idle sayings."
To which, when he had said his say, I added, "The other indeed is,
that when you are at home you do not exhibit the same gracious
demeanour you do when elsewhere, nor do you mix in society with those
brethren who have a strong regard for you, and have chosen you for
their lord; but contrariwise, you seldom associate with them, nor do
you, as they say, make yourself on sociable terms with them." Hearing
this, he changed countenance, and hanging down his head, said, "You
are a simpleton, and speak foolishly; you ought to know what Solomon
says--'Hast thou many daughters: show not thyself cheerful toward
them.'" I indeed held my peace from thenceforth, setting a watch on my
mouth.
On another occasion I said, "My lord, I heard you this night after
matins wakeful and sighing heavily, contrary to your usual wont." He
answered, "No wonder; you are partaker of my good things, in meat and
drink, in riding abroad, and such like, but you have little need to
care concerning the conduct of the house and household of the saints,
and arduous business of the pastoral care which harasses me and makes
my spirit to groan and be heavy." Whereto I, lifting up my hands to
heaven, made answer, "From such anxiety, almighty and most merciful
Lord, deliver me!"
I have heard the abbot say, that if he could have been as he was
before he became a monk, and could have had five or six marks of
income wherewith he could have been supported in the schools, he never
would have been monk or abbot. On another occasion he said with an
oath, that if he could have foreseen what and how great a charge it
had been to govern the abbey, he would rather than abbot and lord have
been master of the almonry, and keeper of the books, for this office
he said he had ever desired above all others. Yet who would credit
this? Scarcely myself; and not even myself, except that being
constantly with him by day and night for six years, I had had the
opportunity of becoming fully conversant with the worthiness of his
life and the wisdom of his rule.
He once related to me, that when he was a child of nine years old, he
dreamed that he was standing before the gates of the cemetery of the
church of St. Edmund, and that the devil, with outspread arms, would
have seized him, had not St. Edmund, standing by, taken him in his
arms; whereupon he screamed whilst dreaming in his sleep, "St. Edmund,
save me!" and thus calling upon him whose name he had never heard, he
awoke. His mother was alarmed at such an outcry, but having heard the
dream, took him to St. Edmund for the purpose of praying there; and
when they had come to the gate of the cemetery he said, "See, mother,
this is the place, this is the very same gate which I saw in my dream
when the devil was about to seize me"; and he knew the place as well,
to use his own words, as if he had seen it before with his natural
eyes. The abbot himself interpreted this dream thus: By the devil were
signified the pleasures of this mortal state, which would fain have
drawn him away; but St. Edmund threw his arms around him when he made
him a monk.
Once when he was told that certain of the convent grumbled at some act
of his, he said to me as I sat by him, "Good God! there is need enough
that I should remember that dream wherein it was dreamed of me, before
I was made abbot, that I was to rage among them as a wolf. True it is
that above all earthly things I dread lest the convent behave in such
a way that I shall be compelled so to rage. But even so it is, when
they say or do anything against my will, I bring to mind that dream of
theirs, and although I do rage in my own soul, growling and gnashing
my teeth in secret, I do violence to myself lest I should actually
rage in word or deed," and "My hidden grief chokes me and my heart
surges within me."
Although by nature he was quick to wrath, and easily kindled to anger,
yet with a great struggle he mostly restrained his temper in view of
the dignity he held. Concerning which he sometimes used to boast,
"This and that I saw, this and that I heard, yet I held my peace." The
abbot once said, seated in chapter, certain words by which he seemed
to eagerly desire the good-will of the monastery. "I do not wish," he
said, "that any one should come to me to accuse another, unless he is
willing to say the same openly. If any one does otherwise, I will
publicly proclaim the name of the accuser. I wish also that every
cloister monk shall have free access to me, that he may speak to me,
whenever he chooses, concerning all things necessary to him." This he
said, because our leaders in the days of Abbot Hugh, wishing that
nothing should be done in the monastery except through them, had
decreed that no cloister monk should speak with the abbot unless he
had first told the abbot's chaplain what he wished to speak about.
On a certain day he made an order in chapter, that every one who had a
seal of his own should give it up to him, and so it was accordingly
done, and there were found three-and-thirty seals. He himself
explained the reason of this order, forbidding that any official
should incur any debt above twenty shillings without the assent of the
prior and convent, as had been the custom heretofore. To the prior and
to the sacrist, indeed, he returned their seals, but kept the rest
himself.
At another time he ordered to be delivered up to him all the keys of
the chests, cupboards, and hanapers, strictly enjoining that
thenceforth none presume to have a chest or anything locked up, unless
by special permission, or otherwise possess anything beyond what the
rule allows. Notwithstanding this he gave general licence to every one
of us to have money to the amount of two shillings, if so much
happened to have been given to us by way of charity; so that it might
be expended upon poor relations, or for purposes of piety.
On another occasion the abbot said, that he was desirous of adhering
to our ancient custom respecting the entertainment of guests; that is,
when the abbot is at home, he is to receive all guests of whatsoever
condition they may be, except religious and priests of secular habit,
and except their men who present themselves at the gate of the court
in the name of their masters; but if the abbot be not at home, then
all guests of whatsoever condition are to be received by the cellarer
up to thirteen horses. But if a layman or clerk shall come with more
than thirteen horses, they shall be entertained by the servants of the
abbot, either within the court-lodge, or without, at the expense of
the abbot. All religious men, even bishops if they happen to be monks,
are to be charged upon the cellary and at the expense of the convent,
unless the abbot will do any one special honour, and entertain him in
his own hall at his own expense.
CHAPTER VI
SAMSON'S PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS
The abbot Samson was of middle stature, nearly bald, having a face
neither round nor yet long, a prominent nose, thick lips, clear and
very piercing eyes, ears of the nicest sense of hearing, arched
eyebrows, often shaved; and he soon became hoarse from a short
exposure to cold. On the day of his election he was forty and seven
years old, and had been a monk seventeen years. He had then a few grey
hairs in a reddish beard, and a very few in a black and somewhat curly
head of hair. But within fourteen years after his election it became
as white as snow.
He was a man remarkably temperate, never slothful, of strong
constitution, and willing to ride or walk till old age gained upon him
and moderated such inclination. On hearing the news of the Cross being
taken, and the loss of Jerusalem, he began to use under garments of
horsehair and a horsehair shirt, and to abstain from flesh and flesh
meats. Nevertheless, he desired that meats should be placed before him
at table for the increase of the alms dish. Sweet milk, honey and such
like sweet things he ate with greater appetite than other food.
He abhorred liars, drunkards and talkative folk; for virtue ever is
consistent with itself and rejects contraries. He also much condemned
persons given to murmur at their meat or drink, and particularly monks
who were dissatisfied therewith, himself adhering to the uniform
course he had practised when a monk. He had likewise this virtue in
himself, that he never changed the mess set before him.
Once when I, then a novice, happened to be serving in the refectory, I
wished to prove if this were true, and I thought I would place before
him a mess which would have displeased any other than him, in a very
black and broken dish. But when he looked at it, he was as one that
saw it not. Some delay took place, and I felt sorry that I had so
done; and snatching away the dish, I changed the mess and the dish for
a better, and brought it to him; but this substitution he took in ill
part, and was angry with me for it.
An eloquent man was he, both in French and Latin, but intent more on
the substance and method of what was to be said than on the style of
words. He could read English books most admirably, and was wont to
preach to the people in English, but in the dialect of Norfolk, where
he was born and bred; and so he caused a pulpit to be set up in the
church for the ease of the hearers, and for the ornament of the
church. The abbot also seemed to prefer an active life to one of
contemplation, and rather commended good officials than good monks. He
very seldom approved of any one on account of his literary
acquirements, unless he also possessed sufficient knowledge of secular
matters; and whenever he chanced to hear that any prelate had resigned
his pastoral care and become an anchorite, he did not praise him for
it. He never applauded men of too compliant a disposition, saying, "He
who endeavours to please all, ought to please none."
In the first year of his being abbot, he appeared to hate all
flatterers, and especially among the monks; but in process of time it
seemed that he heard them more readily, and was more familiar with
them. It once happened that a certain brother of ours, skilled in this
art, had bent the knee before him, and under the pretence of giving
advice, had poured the oil of flattery into his ears. I, standing
apart, smiled. The brother having departed, I was called and asked why
I had smiled. I answered, "The world is full of flatterers." And the
abbot replied, "My son, it is long that I have known flatterers; I
cannot, therefore, avoid hearing them. There are many things to be
passed over and taken no notice of, if the peace of the convent is to
be preserved. I will hear what they have to say, but they shall not
deceive me if I can help it, as they did my predecessor, who trusted
so unadvisedly to their counsel that for a long time before his death
he had nothing for himself or his household to eat, unless it were
obtained on trust from creditors; nor was there anything to be
distributed among the poor on the day of his burial, unless it were
the fifty shillings which were received from Richard the farmer, of
Palgrave, which very fifty shillings the same Richard on another
occasion had to pay to the King's bailiffs, who demanded the entire
farm-rent for the King's use." With this saying I was comforted. His
study, indeed, was to have a well-regulated house, and enough
wherewith to keep his household, so managing that the usual allowance
for a week, which his predecessor could not make last for five days,
sufficed him for eight, nine or even ten days, if so be that he was at
his manors without any extraordinary arrival of guests. Every week,
indeed, he audited the expenses of the house, not by deputy, but in
his own person, which his predecessor had never been wont to do.
For the first seven years he had only four courses in his house,
afterwards only three, except presents and game from his parks, or
fish from his ponds. And if at any time he retained any one in his
house at the request of a great man, or of a particular friend, or
messengers, or minstrels, or any person of that description, by taking
the opportunity of going beyond sea or travelling afar off, he
prudently disencumbered himself of such hangers-on.
The monks with whom the abbot had been the most intimate, and whom he
liked best before he became abbot, he seldom promoted to offices
merely for old acquaintance' sake, unless they were fit persons.
Wherefore certain of our brethren who had been favourable to his
election as abbot, said that he cared less for those who had liked him
before he became abbot than was proper, and particularly that those
were most favoured by him who both openly and in secret had spoken
evil of him, nay, had even publicly called him, in the hearing of
many, a passionate unsociable man, a proud fellow, and Norfolk
barrator. But on the other hand, as after he had received the abbacy
he exhibited no indiscreet partiality for his old friends, so he
refrained from showing anything like hatred or dislike to many others
according to their deserts, returning frequently good for evil, and
doing good to them that persecuted him.
He had this way also, which I have never observed in any other man,
that he had an affectionate regard for many to whom he seldom or never
showed a countenance of love; according to the common proverb which
says, "Where love is, there is the regard of love." And another thing
I wondered at in him was, that he knowingly suffered loss in his
temporal matters from his own servants, and confessed that he winked
at them; but this I believe to have been the reason, that he might
watch a convenient opportunity when the matter could be advisedly
remedied, or that by passing over these matters without notice, he
might avoid a greater loss.
He loved his kinsmen indifferently, but not less tenderly than others,
for he had not, or assumed not to have, any relative within the third
degree. I have heard him state that he had relations who were noble
and gentle, whom he never would in any wise recognize as relations;
for, as he said, they would be more a burden than an honour to him, if
they should happen to find out their relationship. But he always
acknowledged those as kinsmen who had treated him as such when he was
a poor monk. Some of these relations (that is, those whom he found
useful and suitable) he appointed to various offices in his own house,
others he made keepers of manors. But those whom he found unworthy, he
irrevocably dismissed from his presence.
A certain man of lowly station, who had managed his patrimony
faithfully, and had served him devotedly in his youth, he looked upon
as his dearest kinsman, and gave to his son, who was a clerk, the
first church that fell vacant after he came to the charge of the
abbey, and also advanced all the other sons of this man.
He invited to him a certain chaplain who had maintained him in the
schools of Paris by the sale of holy water, and bestowed upon him an
ecclesiastical benefice sufficient for his maintenance by way of
vicarage. He granted to a certain servant of his predecessor food and
clothing all the days of his life, he being the very man who put the
fetters upon him at his lord's command when he was cast into prison.
To the son of Elias, the cupbearer of Hugh the abbot, when he came to
do homage for his father's land, he said, in full court, "I have for
these seven years deferred taking your homage for the land which the
abbot Hugh gave your father, because that gift was to the damage of
the manor of Elmswell. Now I am overcome when I call to my mind what
your father did for me when I was in fetters, for he sent to me a
portion of the very wine whereof his lord had been drinking, and bade
me be strong in God." To Master Walter, the son of Master William of
Diss, suing at his grace for the vicarage of the church of Chevington,
he replied, "Your father was master of the schools, and at the time
when I was a poor clerk he granted me freely and in charity an
entrance to his school, and the means of learning; now I, for the sake
of God, do grant you what you ask."
He addressed two knights of Risby, William and Norman, at the time
when they were adjudged to be in his mercy, publicly in this wise:
"When I was a cloister monk, sent to Durham upon business of our
church, and thence returning through Risby, being benighted, I sought
a night's lodging from Norman, and I received a blank refusal; but
going to the house of William, and seeking shelter, I was honourably
entertained by him. Now, therefore, those twenty shillings, which are
'the mercy,' I will without mercy exact from Norman; but contrariwise,
to William I give thanks, and the amerciament of twenty shillings that
is due from him I do with pleasure remit."
A certain young girl, seeking her food from door to door, complained
to the abbot that one of the sons of Richard, the son of Drogo, had
forced her; and at length, by the suggestion of the abbot, for the
sake of peace, she took one mark in satisfaction. The abbot, moreover,
took from the same Richard four marks for licence to agree; but all
those five marks he ordered forthwith to be given to a certain
chapman, upon the condition that he should take this poor woman to
wife.
In the town of St. Edmund, the abbot purchased stone houses, and
assigned them for the use of the schools, so that thereby the poor
clerks should be for ever free from house-rent, towards payment
whereof all the scholars, whether rich or poor, were compelled twice
in the year to subscribe a penny or a halfpenny.
The recovery of the manor of Mildenhall for one thousand and one
hundred marks of silver, and the expulsion of the Jews from the town
of St. Edmund, and the founding of the new hospital at Babwell, are
proofs of great virtue.
The lord abbot sought from the King letters enjoining that the Jews
should be driven away from the town of St. Edmund, he stating that
whatsoever is within the town of St. Edmund, or within the banlieue
thereof, of right belongs to St. Edmund: therefore the Jews ought to
become the men of St. Edmund, otherwise they should be expelled from
the town. Licence was accordingly given that he might put them forth,
saving, nevertheless, that they had all their chattels and the value
of their houses and lands. And when they were expelled, and with an
armed force conducted to divers towns, the abbot gave order that all
those that from henceforth should harbour or entertain Jews in the
town of St. Edmund should be solemnly excommunicated in every church
and at every altar. Howbeit it was afterwards conceded by the King's
justices that if the Jews should come to the great pleas of the abbot
to demand their debts from their debtors, on such occasion they might
for two days and two nights lodge within the town, and on the third
day be permitted to depart freely.
The abbot offered King Richard five hundred marks for the manor of
Mildenhall, stating that the manor was worthy sixty and ten pounds by
the year, and for so much had been recorded in the great roll of
Winchester. And when he had conceived hopes of success in his
application, the matter rested till the morrow. In the meanwhile there
came a certain person to the King, telling him that this manor was
well worth yearly a hundred pounds. On the morrow, therefore, when the
abbot urged his suit, the King said, "It is of no avail my lord abbot,
what you ask me; you shall either give a thousand marks, or you shall
not have the manor." And whereas the Queen Eleanor, according to the
custom of the realm, ought to have one hundred marks where the King
receives a thousand, she took of us a great gold cup of the value of a
hundred marks, and gave us back the same cup for the soul of her lord,
King Henry, who first gave the same cup to St. Edmund. On another
occasion, when the treasure of our church was carried to London for
the ransom of King Richard, the same Queen redeemed that cup for one
hundred marks, and restored it to us, taking in return our charter
from us as an evidence of our most solemn promise, that we should
never again alienate that cup from our church upon any occasion
whatever.
Now, when all this money, which was got together with great
difficulty, had been paid, the abbot held a chapter, and said he ought
to have some portion of the great advantage derivable from so valuable
a manor. And the convent answered that it was just, and "Let it be
according to your wish." The abbot replied that he could well claim
the half part as his own right, demonstrating that he had paid towards
this purchase more than four hundred marks, with much inconvenience to
himself. But he said that he would be content with a certain allotment
of that manor called Icklingham, which was most freely granted him by
the convent. When the abbot heard this, he said, "And I do accept this
part of the land to my own use, but not that I intend to keep the same
in my own hand, or that I shall give it to my relations, but for the
good of my soul and for all your souls in common, I give the same to
the new hospital at Babwell, for the relief of the poor, and the
maintenance of hospitality." As he said, so it was done, and
afterwards confirmed by the King's Charter.
These and all other like things worthy to be written down and lauded
for ever did the abbot Samson. But he said he had done nothing, unless
he could have our church dedicated in his lifetime; which done, he
said he wished to die. For the solemnization of this act, he said he
was ready to pay two thousand marks of silver, so that the King should
be present, and the affair be completed with the reverence it
demanded.
The abbot was informed that the church of Woolpit was vacant, Walter
of Coutances being chosen to the bishopric of Lincoln. He presently
convened the prior and great part of the convent, and taking up his
story thus began: "You well know what trouble I had in respect of the
church of Woolpit; and in order that it should be obtained for your
exclusive use I journeyed to Rome at your instance, in the time of the
schism between Pope Alexander and Octavian. I passed through Italy at
that time when all clerks bearing letters of our lord the Pope
Alexander were taken. Some were imprisoned, some hanged, and some,
with nose and lips cut off, sent forward to the pope, to his shame and
confusion. I, however, pretended to be Scotch; and putting on the garb
of a Scotchman, and the gesture of one, I often brandished my staff,
in the way they use that weapon called a gaveloc, at those who mocked
me, using threatening language, after the manner of the Scotch. To
those that met and questioned me as to who I was, I answered nothing,
but, 'Ride ride Rome, turne Cantwereberei.' This did I to conceal
myself and my errand, and that I should get to Rome safer in the guise
of a Scotchman.
"Having obtained letters from the pope, even as I wished, on my return
I passed by a certain castle, as my way led me from the city; and
behold the officers thereof came about me, laying hold upon me, and
saying, 'This vagabond who makes himself out to be a Scotchman is
either a spy or bears letters from the false pope Alexander.' And
while they examined my ragged clothes, and my boots, and my breeches,
and even the old shoes which I carried over my shoulders, after the
fashion of the Scotch, I thrust my hand into the little wallet which I
carried, wherein was contained the letter of our lord the pope, placed
under a little cup I had for drinking. The Lord God and St. Edmund so
permitting, I drew out both the letter and the cup together, so that
extending my arm aloft, I held the letter underneath the cup. They
could see the cup plain enough, but they did not see the letter; and
so I got clear out of their hands, in the name of the Lord. Whatever
money I had about me they took away; therefore I had to beg from door
to door, without any payment, until I arrived in England.
"But hearing that this church had been given to Geoffrey Ridel, my
soul was heavy, because I had laboured in vain. Coming, therefore,
home, I crept under the shrine of St. Edmund, fearing lest the abbot
should seize and imprison me, although I deserved no punishment; nor
was there a monk who durst speak to me, or a layman who durst bring me
food except by stealth. At last, upon consideration, the abbot sent me
to Acre in exile, and there I remained a long time.
"These and innumerable other things have I endured on account of this
church of Woolpit, but, blessed be God, who works all things together,
behold! this very church, for which I have borne so many sufferings is
given into my hand, and now I have the power of presenting it to
whomsoever I will, because it is vacant. And now I restore it to the
convent, and I assign to its exclusive use, the ancient custom or
pension of ten marks, which you have lost for upwards of sixty years.
I had much rather have given it to you entire, could I have done so;
but I know that the Bishop of Norwich might gainsay this; or even if
he did grant it, he would make it an occasion to claim to himself such
subjection and obedience from you as it is not advisable or expedient
you should acknowledge. Therefore let us do that which by law we may;
that is, put a clerk in as vicar, who shall account to the bishop for
the spiritualities, and to yourselves for ten marks. I propose, if you
all agree, that this vicarage be given to some kinsman of Roger de
Hengham, a monk, and one of your brethren who was joined with me in
that expedition to Rome, and was exposed to the same perils as myself,
and in respect of the very same matter."
* * * * *
This said, we all rose and gave thanks; and Hugh, a clerk, brother of
the said Roger, was nominated to the aforesaid church, saving to us
our pension of ten marks.
CHAPTER VII
THE ABBOT AS PEER OF PARLIAMENT
In that manor of the monks of Canterbury which is called Eleigh, and
is within the hundred of the abbot, a case of homicide occurred; but
the men of the archbishop would not permit that those manslayers
should stand their trial in the court of St. Edmund. Thereupon the
abbot made his plaint to King Henry, stating that Baldwin the
archbishop was claiming for himself the liberties of our church, under
authority of a new charter, which the King had given to the church of
Canterbury after the death of St. Thomas. The King hereupon made
answer, that he had never made any grant in derogation of the rights
of our church, nor did he wish to take away from St. Edmund anything
that had ever belonged to him.
On this intelligence, the abbot said to his most intimate advisers,
"It is the better counsel that the archbishop should have to complain
of me than I of the archbishop. I will put myself in seisin of this
liberty, and afterwards will defend myself thereupon by the help of
St. Edmund, whose right our charters testify it to be." Therefore
suddenly and at daybreak, by the assistance of Robert of Cockfield,
there were dispatched about fourscore men to the town of Eleigh, who
took by surprise those three manslayers, and led them bound to St.
Edmund, and cast them into the body of the gaol there.
Now, the archbishop complaining of this, Ranulf de Glanville, the
justiciary, commanded that those men be put by gage and pledges to
stand their trial in that court wherein they ought to stand trial; and
the abbot was summoned to come before the King's court to answer
touching the violence and injury which he was said to have done to the
archbishop. The abbot thereupon offered himself several times without
any essoin.
At length, upon Ash Wednesday, they stood before the King in the
chapter house of Canterbury, and the charters of the King on one side
and the other were read in court. And our lord the King said: "These
charters are of the same age, and emanate from the same King, Edward.
I know not what I can say, unless it be that these charters contradict
each other." To whom the abbot said: "Whatever observations may apply
to the charters, we are seised, and hitherto have been; and of this I
am willing to put myself upon the verdict of the two counties of
Norfolk and Suffolk, if they do allow this to be the case."
But Archbishop Baldwin, having first conferred with his advisers, said
that the men of Norfolk and Suffolk greatly loved St. Edmund, and that
great part of those counties was under the control of the abbot, and
therefore he was unwilling to stand by their decision. The King at
this waxed wroth, and in indignation got up, and in departing said,
"He that is able to receive it, let him receive it." And so the matter
was put off, and the case is yet undecided.
However, I observed that some of the men of the monks of Canterbury
were wounded even to death by the country folk of the town of Milden,
which is situate in the hundred of St. Edmund; and because they knew
that the prosecutor ought to make suit to the jurisdiction wherein the
culprit is, they chose to be silent and to put up with it, rather than
make complaint thereupon to the abbot or his bailiffs, because in no
wise would they come into the court of St. Edmund to plead there.
After this the men of Eleigh set up a certain cucking-stool, whereat
justice was to be done in respect of deceits in the measuring of bread
or corn; whereof the abbot complained to the Lord Bishop of Ely, then
justiciary and chancellor. But he was anything but desirous to hear
the abbot, because it was said that he was smelling after the
archbishopric, which at that time was vacant. Some time afterwards,
when he had come on a visitation, being entertained as legate, before
he departed he made a speech at the shrine of the holy martyr. The
abbot, seizing the opportunity, said to all present, "My lord bishop,
the liberty which the monks of Canterbury claim for themselves is the
right of St. Edmund, whose body is here present; and because you do
not choose to render me assistance to protect the privileges of his
church, I place that plaint between him and you. Let him from
henceforth get justice done to himself." The chancellor deigned not to
answer a single word; but within a year from that time was driven from
England, and experienced divine vengeance.
Now when the same chancellor, on his return from Germany, had arrived
at Ipswich, and rested the night at Hitcham, news was brought that he
wished to take St. Edmund in his way, and would hear mass with us on
the morrow. The abbot, therefore, gave strict injunctions that the
offices of the church should not be celebrated so long as the
chancellor was present in the church; for he said he had heard at
London that the Bishop of London had pronounced in the presence of six
bishops that the Chancellor was excommunicate, and had left England
excommunicate, particularly for the violence he committed upon the
Archbishop of York at Dover.
Therefore when the chancellor came to us on the morrow, he found no
one, neither clerk nor monk, who would sing a mass. Indeed, not only
the priest standing at the first mass, and beginning the canon of the
mass, but the other priests standing before the altars, ceased,
remaining with unmoved lips until a messenger came, saying that he had
departed from the church. The chancellor put up with it at the time,
but did many injuries to the abbot, until at length, by the
intervention of friends, both parties returned to the kiss of peace.
When King Henry had taken the Cross, and had come to us within a month
afterwards to pay his devotions, the abbot privily made for himself a
cross of linen cloth, and holding in one hand the cross and a needle
and thread, he requested licence from the King to take upon himself
the cross. But this privilege was denied him, upon the suggestion of
John, Bishop of Norwich, who said that it was not expedient for the
country, or indeed safe for the counties of Norfolk and Suffolk, that
the Bishop of Norwich and the Abbot of St. Edmund should be both away
at the same time.
When the news came to London of the capture of King Richard and his
imprisonment in Germany, and the barons met to take counsel thereupon,
the abbot started up before them all, saying that he was quite ready
to seek his lord the King, either in disguise or any other way, until
he had discovered where he was, and had gained certain intelligence of
him; by reason whereof he obtained great approbation.
When the chancellor, the Bishop of Ely, filled the office of legate,
and in that capacity was holding a council at London, he proposed
certain decrees against the black monks, taking notice of their
wandering to St. Thomas and St. Edmund, on the excuse of pilgrimage,
and inveighed against abbots, restricting them in the number of their
horses. Abbot Samson replied, "We do not admit any decree against that
rule of St. Benedict which allows the abbots the free and absolute
government of their monks. I keep the barony of St. Edmund and his
kingdom; nor are thirteen horses sufficient for me as they may be for
some abbots, unless I have more to enable me to execute the King's
justice."
Whilst there was war throughout England, during the captivity of King
Richard, the abbot, with his whole convent, solemnly excommunicated
all movers of the war and disturbers of the public peace, not fearing
the Earl John, the King's brother, nor any other, so that he was
styled the "stout-hearted abbot." After this he went to the siege of
Windsor, where he appeared in armour with certain other abbots of
England, having his own standard, and retaining many knights at heavy
charges, being more remarkable there for his counsel than for his
piety. But we cloister folk thought this act rather perilous, fearing
lest in consequence some future abbot might be compelled to attend in
person upon any warlike expedition. On the conclusion of a truce he
went into Germany, and there visited the King with many gifts.
After the return of King Richard to England, licence was granted for
holding tournaments; for which purpose many knights met between
Thetford and St. Edmund. The abbot forbade them; but they, resisting,
fulfilled their desire. On another occasion there came twenty-four
young men with their followers, sons of noblemen, to have their
revenge at the aforesaid place; which being done, they returned into
the town to put up there. The abbot hearing of this, ordered the gates
to be locked, and all of them to be kept within. The next day was the
vigil of Peter and Paul the apostles. Therefore, having passed their
word and promising that they would not go forth without permission,
they all dined with the abbot on that day. After dinner, when the
abbot retired to his chamber, they all arose and began to carol and
sing, sending into the town for wine, drinking and then shouting,
depriving the abbot and convent of their sleep, and doing everything
in scorn of the abbot. They spent the day until the evening in this
manner; and refused to desist, even when the abbot commanded them. But
when evening was come, they broke open the gates of the town and went
forth by force. The abbot, indeed, solemnly excommunicated all of
them, yet not without first consulting Archbishop Hubert, at that time
justiciary; and many of them came, promising amendment and seeking
absolution.
The abbot often sent his messengers to Rome, by no means empty-handed.
The first he sent, immediately after he was consecrated, obtained in
general terms all the liberties and privileges which had been granted
of yore to his predecessors, even in the time of the schism. Next he
obtained, first among the abbots of England, that he might be able to
give episcopal benediction solemnly, wheresoever he might happen to
be, and this he obtained for himself and for his successors.
Afterwards he obtained a general exemption for himself and his
successors, from all Archbishops of Canterbury, which Abbot Hugh had
only acquired for himself personally. In these confirmations Abbot
Samson caused to be inserted many new privileges for the greater
liberty and security of our church.
There once came a certain clerk to the abbot, bearing letters of
request for procuring a benefice. And the abbot, drawing forth from
his desk seven apostolic writings, with the leaden seals hanging to
them, made answer: "Look at these apostolic writings, whereby divers
popes require that certain benefices should be given to divers clerks.
When I shall have quieted those who have come before you, I will give
you your rent; for he who first cometh to the mill ought first to have
his grist."
There was a general court summoned for the hundred of Risbridge, to
hear the plaint and trial of the Earl of Clare, at Witham. He, indeed,
accompanied by many barons and knights, including the Earl Alberic and
many others, stated that his bailiffs had given him to understand that
they were accustomed to receive yearly for his use five shillings from
the hundred and the bailiffs of the hundred, and that this was now
unjustly detained; and he alleged that the land of Alfric, the son of
Withgar, who had in ancient time been lord of that hundred, had been
granted to his predecessors at the conquest of England. But the abbot,
taking thought for his own interest, without stirring from his place,
answered, "It is a strange thing, my lord earl; your case fails you.
King Edward the Confessor gave, and by his charter confirmed, to St.
Edmund, this entire hundred; and of those five shillings there is no
mention made therein. You must tell us for what service, or for what
reason, you demand those five shillings." And the earl, after advising
with his attendants, replied that it was his office to carry the
standard of St. Edmund in battle, and for that cause the five
shillings were due to him. The abbot answered, "Of a truth it seems a
mean thing that such a man as the Earl of Clare, should receive such a
petty gift for such a service. To the Abbot of St. Edmund, it is but a
slight grievance to give five shillings. The Earl Roger Bigot holds
himself as seised, and asserts that he is seised, of the office of
bearing the standard of St. Edmund; indeed, he actually did bear it
when the earl of Leicester was taken and the Flemings destroyed.
Thomas of Mendham also claims this as his right. When, therefore, you
shall have proved against these your right, I will with great pleasure
pay you the five shillings you now seek to recover of me." The earl
upon this said that he would talk the matter over with the Earl Roger,
his kinsman, and so the matter was put off even to this day.
On the death of Robert of Cockfield, there came Adam, his son, and
with him many of his relations, the Earl Roger Bigot, and many other
great men, and made suit to the abbot for the tenements of the
aforesaid Adam, and especially for the half hundred of Cosford, to be
held by the annual payment of one hundred shillings, just as if it had
been his hereditary right; indeed, they all said that his father and
his grandfather had held it for fourscore years past and more.
When the abbot got an opportunity of speaking, putting his two fingers
up to his two eyes, he said, "May I be deprived of these eyes on that
day, nay, in that hour, wherein I grant to any one a hundred to be
held in hereditary right, unless indeed the King, who is able to take
away from me the abbey and my life with it, should force me to do so."
Explaining to them the reason of that saying, he averred, "If any one
were to hold a hundred as an inheritance, and he should make forfeit
to the King in any wise, so that he ought to lose his inheritance,
forthwith will the Sheriff of Suffolk and the King's bailiffs have
seisin of the hundred, and exercise their own power within our
liberties; and if they should have the ward of the hundred, the
liberty of the eight hundreds and a half will be endangered."
And then addressing himself to Adam, he said, "If you, who claim an
inheritance in this hundred, should take to wife any free woman who
should hold but one acre of land of the King in chief; the King, after
your death, would possess himself of all that your tenement, together
with the wardship of your son, if he be under age; and thus the King's
bailiffs would enter upon the hundred of St. Edmund, to the prejudice
of the abbot. Besides all this, your father acknowledged to me that he
claimed nothing by right of inheritance in the hundred; but because
his service was satisfactory to me, I permitted him to hold it all the
days of his life, according as he deserved of me."
Upon the abbot saying thus much, money was offered; but he could not
be persuaded by words or money. At last it was settled between them
thus: Adam disclaimed the right which he had by word of mouth claimed
in the hundred, and the abbot confirmed to him all his other lands;
but touching our town of Cockfield, no mention was made of that, nor
indeed is it believed that he had a charter thereof; Semer and Groton
he was to hold for the term of his life.
Herbert the dean erected a windmill upon Haberdon. When the abbot
heard of this, his anger was so kindled that he would scarcely eat or
utter a single word. On the morrow, after hearing mass, he commanded
the sacrist, that without delay he should send his carpenters thither
and overturn it altogether, and carefully put by the wooden materials
in safe keeping.
The dean, hearing this, came to him saying that he was able in law to
do this upon his own frank fee, and that the benefit of the wind ought
not to be denied to any one. He further said that he only wanted to
grind his own corn there, and nobody else's, lest it should be
imagined that he did this to the damage of the neighbouring mills. The
abbot, his anger not yet appeased, answered, "I give you as many
thanks as if you had cut off both my feet; by the mouth of God I will
not eat bread until that building be plucked down. You are an old man,
and you should have known that it is not lawful even for the King or
his justiciary to alter or appoint a single thing within the banlieue,
without the permission of the abbot and convent; and why have you
presumed to do such a thing? Nor is this without prejudice to my
mills, as you assert, because the burgesses will run to you and grind
their corn at their pleasure, nor can I by law turn them away, because
they are freemen. Nor would I endure that the mill of our cellarer,
lately set up, should stand, except that it was erected before I was
abbot. Begone," he said, "begone; before you have come to your house,
you shall hear what has befallen your mill."
But the dean being afraid before the face of the abbot, by the counsel
of his son, Master Stephen, forestalled the servants of the sacrist,
and without delay caused that very mill which had been erected by his
own servants to be overthrown. So that when the servants of the
sacrist came thither, they found nothing to be pulled down.
The abbot was sued in respect of the advowson of certain churches, and
gained the case. Certain others he also retained, although his right
thereto was challenged, viz., the church of Westley, of Meringthorp,
of Brettenham, of Wendling, of Pakenham, of Nowton, of Bradfield in
Norfolk, the moiety of the church of Boxford, the church of Scaldwell,
and the church of Endgate. All these, although the right was
challenged by others, he retained, and he restored to his own right of
patronage three portions of the church of Dickleburgh, and brought
back the tenements belonging to those shares to the frank fee of the
church, saving the service which was due therefrom to the manor of
Tivetshall. But the church of Boxford being void, when an inquest was
summoned thereupon, there came five knights tempting the abbot, and
inquiring what it was they ought to swear.
The abbot would neither give nor promise to them anything, but said,
"When the oath shall be administered, declare the right according to
your consciences." They, indeed, being discontented, departed, and by
their inquest took away from him the advowson of that church, namely,
the last presentation. Nevertheless, he ultimately recovered it after
many charges, and for a fine of ten marks.
The abbot also retained the church of Honington. This had not become
vacant, but the right was challenged in the time of Durand of
Hostesley, although he produced as evidence of his right the charter
of William, Bishop of Norwich, wherein it was specified that Robert of
Valognes, his father-in-law, had given that church to Ernald Lovell.
The moiety of the church of Hopton being void, a controversy arose
thereupon between the abbot and Robert of Elm; and a day of hearing
being appointed at Hopton, after much altercation, the abbot being
guided by I know not what sudden impulse, said to the aforesaid
Robert, "Do you but swear that this is your right, and I will allow
that it shall be so." And since that knight refused to swear, it was
by the consent of each party, referred to the oath of sixteen lawful
men of the hundred, who swore that this belonged to the abbot as his
right. Gilbert Fitz-Ralph and Robert of Cockfield, lords of that fee,
were there present and consenting thereto.
Thereupon, Master Jordan de Ros, who had the charter of abbot Hugh, as
well as the charter of the aforesaid Robert, starting forward, urged
that whichever of them succeeded in proving his claim to the church,
he (Jordan) might hold the parsonage, that he was parson of the whole
church, and that the clerk last deceased had been his vicar, rendering
him a yearly payment for that moiety. In proof thereof he produced the
charter of Walchelin the archdeacon.
The abbot, greatly moved and angry with him, never received him in a
friendly manner, until the said Jordan, in a chapter of the monks at
Thetford, at the abbot's instance, resigned into the hands of the
bishop there present that very moiety, without any reservation or
expectation of afterwards recovering the same, before a great
multitude of clerks. This done, the abbot said, "My lord bishop, I am
engaged by promise to bestow the rent upon some one your clerk; and I
now give this moiety of this church to whomsoever of your clerks you
will." Then the bishop requested that in a friendly manner it should
be given to the same Master Jordan; and so upon the presentation of
the abbot, Jordan got it back again.
Afterwards a controversy arose between the abbot and the same Jordan,
touching the land of Herard in Harlow, whether it were the frank fee
of the church or not. And when there was summoned a jury of twelve
knights to make inquest in the king's court, the inquest was taken in
the court of the abbot at Harlow, by the licence of Ranulf de
Glanville, and the recognitors swore that they never knew that land at
any time to have been separated from the church, but nevertheless that
land owed such service to the abbot as that to which the land of
Eustace, and certain other lands of laymen in the same town were
subject. At length it was agreed between them thus: Master Jordan in
full court acknowledged that land to be lay fee, and that he claimed
nothing therein, unless by the abbot's grace. He will therefore hold
that land all the days of his life, rendering yearly to the abbot
twelve pence for all services.
Since, according to the custom of the English, many persons gave many
presents to the abbot, as being their head, upon the day of the
Circumcision of our Lord, I, Jocelin, thought to myself, What can I
give? And I began to reduce into writing all those churches which are
in the gift of the abbot, as well of our manors as of his, and the
reasonable values of the same, upon the same principle that they could
be fairly set to farm, at a time when corn is at its ordinary standard
price. And, therefore, upon the commencement of a new year, I gave to
the abbot that schedule, as a gift to him, which he received very
gratefully.
I, indeed, because I then was pleasing in his sight, thought in my
heart, that I should hint to him that some one church should be given
to the convent, and assigned for the purposes of hospitality, just as
he had wished when he was a poor cloister monk: for this same thing he
himself had, before his election, suggested the brethren should swear,
that upon whomsoever the lot should fall, that man should do it. But
while I thought upon these things, I remembered that some one
previously had said the very same thing, and that I had heard the
abbot reply, that he could not dismember the barony; in other words,
that he ought not to diminish the liberty and dignity which abbot Hugh
and others his predecessors had had, of giving away churches, which
after all scarcely brought any gain or profit to the convent. On
considering this, I held my peace.
The writing I have alluded to was the following:--
"These are the churches of the manors and socages of the ABBOT: The
church of Melford is worth forty pounds; Chevington, ten marks;
Saxham, twelve marks; Hargrave, five marks; Brettenham, five marks;
Boxford, one hundred shillings; Fornham Magna, one hundred shillings;
Stow, one hundred shillings; Honington, five marks; Elmswell, three
marks; Cotton, twelve marks; Brocford, five marks; Palgrave, ten
marks; Great Horningsherth, five marks; Kingston, four marks; Harlow,
nineteen marks; Stapleford, three marks; Tivetshall, one hundred
shillings; Worlingworth cum Bedingfield, twenty marks; Soham, six
marks; the moiety of the church of Wortham, one hundred shillings;
Rungton, twenty marks; Thorp, six marks; Woolpit, over and above the
pension, one hundred shillings; Rushbrook, five marks; the moiety of
the church of Hopton, sixty shillings; Rickinghall, six marks; three
parts of the church of Dickleburgh, each part being worth thirty
shillings and upwards; the moiety of the church of Gislingham, four
marks; Icklingham, six marks. Concerning the church of Mildenhall,
which is worth forty marks, and of the moiety of the church of
Wetherden, what shall I say? Wendling, one hundred shillings; the
church of Len, ten marks; the church of Scaldwell, five marks; the
church of Warkton ...
"These are the churches of the manors belonging to the CONVENT:
Mildenhall, Barton, and Horningsherth, twenty-five marks, besides the
pension; Rougham, fifteen marks, besides the pension; Bradfield, five
marks; Pakenham, thirty marks; Southrey, one hundred shillings;
Risby, twenty marks; Nowton, four marks; Whepstead, fourteen marks;
Fornham St. Genevieve, fifteen marks; Herringswell, nine marks;
Fornham St. Martin, three marks; Ingham, ten marks; Lackford, one
hundred shillings; Elveden, ten marks; Cockfield, twenty marks;
Semer-Semer, twelve marks; Groton, five marks; the moiety of the
church of Fressingfield, fourteen marks; Beccles, twenty marks; Broc,
fifteen marks; Hinderclay, ten marks; Warkton, ten marks; Scaldwell,
five marks; Westley, five marks; the church in Norwich, two marks,
over and above the payment of herrings; and two churches in
Colchester, three marks, over and above the pension of four
shillings; Chelsworth, one hundred shillings; Meringthorp, four
marks; the moiety of the church of Bradfield in Norfolk, three marks;
staffacres and fouracres, and the third part of the tithes of the
lordships of Wrabness, six marks."
The two counties of Norfolk and Suffolk were put in the "mercy" of the
King by the justices in eyre for some default, and fifty marks were
put upon Norfolk, and thirty upon Suffolk. And when a certain portion
of that common amerciament was assessed upon the lands of St. Edmund,
and was sharply demanded, the abbot, without any delay, went to our
lord the King. We found him at Clarendon; and when the charter of King
Edward, which discharges all the lands of St. Edmund from all gelds
and scots, had been shown to him, the King commanded by his writ that
six knights of the county of Norfolk and six of Suffolk should be
summoned to consider before the barons of the exchequer, whether the
lordships of St. Edmund ought to be quit from common amerciament. To
save trouble and expense, only six knights were chosen, and these for
the reason that they had lands in either county; namely, Hubert of
Briseword, W. Fitz-Hervey, and William of Francheville, and three
others, who went to London with us, and on behalf of the two counties
gave their verdict in favour of the liberty of our church. And
thereupon the justices then sitting enrolled their verdict.
The abbot Samson entered into a contest with his knights--himself
against all, and all of them against him. He had stated to them that
they ought to perform the service of fifty individual knights in
escuages, in aids, and the like, because, as they themselves said,
they held so many knights' fees. The point in dispute was, why ten of
those fifty knights were to be without performing service, or by what
reason or by whose authority the forty should receive the help of
those ten knights. But they all answered with one voice, that such had
ever been the custom, that is to say, that ten of them should assist
the other forty, and that they could not thereupon--nor ought they
thereupon--to answer, nor yet to implead.
When they were summoned in the King's court to answer hereupon, some,
by arrangement, excused themselves from appearing, the others
cunningly appeared, saying that they ought not to answer without their
peers. On another occasion, those presented themselves who had first
absented themselves, saying in like manner, that they ought not to
answer without their peers who were joined with them in the same
plaint. And when they had several times thus mocked the abbot, and had
involved him in great and grievous expenses, the abbot complained of
this to Hubert, the archbishop, then justiciary, who replied in open
court that each knight ought to plead singly, and in respect of his
own tenure, and said straight out that the abbot was clever enough and
able enough to prove the rights of his church against all and every
one of them. Then the earl, Roger Bigot, first of all freely confessed
that, in law, he owed to his superior lord the abbot his service of
three entire knights' fees, in reliefs as well as in escuages and
aids; but, so far as concerned his performing castle-guard at the
castle of Norwich, he said nothing.
Next came two of these knights, then three, and again more, until
nearly all of them had come, and, by the earl's example, acknowledged
the same service. Because such acknowledgment thereupon made in the
court of St. Edmund was not sufficient in law, the abbot took all of
them to London at his own charges, with the wives and women who were
inherited of the lands so held, that they should make the
acknowledgment in the King's court, and they all received separate
charters of the concord thus made. Alberic de Vere and William of
Hastings and two others were in the King's service beyond sea when
this was done, and therefore the plaint concerning them was stayed.
Alberic de Vere was the last who held out against the abbot; but as it
was, the abbot seized and sold his cattle, wherefore it behoved him to
come into court, and answer, as did his fellows. Taking advice upon
it, he at length acknowledged to the abbot and St. Edmund their right.
The knights, therefore, being all defeated, a great profit would have
accrued to the abbot from this victory unless he had been inclined to
spare some of them; for so often as twenty shillings are charged upon
a fee, there will remain twelve pounds to the abbot, and if more or
less are assessed, more or less will remain over as a surplus to him,
according to the strict apportionment. Also the abbot was wont, as
were his predecessors, at the end of every twenty weeks to give seven
shillings for the guard of the castle of Norwich out of his own purse,
for default of three knights, whose fees Roger Bigot holds of St.
Edmund. Each of the knights of four constabularies used to give
twenty-eight pence when they entered to perform their guards, and one
penny to the marshal who collected those pence; and they were
accustomed to give twenty-eight pence and no more, because the ten
knights of the fifth constabulary ought to assist the other forty, so
that whereas they ought to have given three shillings entire, they
only gave twenty-nine pence, and he whose duty it was to enter to
perform his guard service at the end of four months, entered at the
end of twenty weeks. But at the present time all the knights give the
full three shillings, and there remains to the abbot the surplus which
accrues beyond twenty-nine pence, from whence he can re-imburse
himself of the aforesaid seven shillings. It is apparent what force
had the words of the abbot which he spoke the first day, when he took
the homage of his knights, as aforesaid, when all the knights promised
him twenty shillings, and immediately revoked what they had said,
refusing to give him more than forty pounds in one sum, alleging that
ten knights ought to assist the other forty in aids and castle-guards,
and all such like services.
There is certain land in Tivetshall of the abbot's fee, which used to
pay to the watchmen of the castle of Norwich waite-fee, that is,
twenty shillings per annum, payable five shillings on each of the four
Ember fasts. This is an ancient customary payment which the abbot
would well wish to do away with if he could, but considering his
inability to do so, he has up to now held his peace and closed his
eyes to it.
CHAPTER VIII
THE CASE OF HENRY OF ESSEX
[For the purpose of diffusing the knowledge of the blessed King and
martyr, we have annexed this, we hope not irrelevantly, to the
foregoing. Not that I who am so insignificant a person, and of
scarcely any account, should set it forth with a historical title; but
insomuch as Master Jocelin, our almoner, a man of exalted piety,
powerful in word and deed, did so begin it at the request and desire
of his superior, I may look upon it as my own work, because, according
to the precept of Seneca, whatever has been well said by another, I
may without presumption ascribe to myself.
When the abbot came to Reading, and we with him, we were suitably
entertained by the monks of that place, among whom we met Henry of
Essex, a professed monk, who, having obtained an opportunity of
speaking with the abbot, related to him and ourselves as we all sat
together, how he was vanquished in duel, and how and for what reason
St. Edmund had confounded him in the very hour of battle. I therefore
reduced his tale into writing by the command of the lord abbot, and
wrote it in these words.
As it is impossible for us to shun evil unless it be apparent, we have
thought it worthy to commit to historical record the acts and excesses
of Henry of Essex, as a warning and not for imitation. The warnings
that can be enforced by anecdotes are useful and beneficial. The
aforesaid Henry, therefore, while in prosperity was in high esteem
amongst the great men of the realm, a man of much account, of noble
birth, conspicuous by deeds of arms, the king's standard-bearer, and
feared by all on account of his power. His neighbours endowed the
church of St. Edmund, the King and martyr, with possessions and rents;
but he not only shut his eyes to this fact, but also by force and by
injuries, with violence and evil speaking, wrongfully withheld an
annual rent of five shillings, and converted it to his own use. Nay,
indeed, in process of time, when a cause touching the rape of a
certain damsel was prosecuted in the court of St. Edmund, the said
Henry came thither, protesting and alleging that the same plaint by
law ought to be decided in his court, in view of the birthplace of the
same damsel, who was born within his lordship of Lailand; and by
reason of this pretext he presumed to harass the court of St. Edmund
with journeys and innumerable expenses for a long space of time.
In the meantime, in these and such like acts, fortune, smiling upon
his desires, suddenly brought in upon him the cause of perpetual
sorrow, and, under the appearance of a joyful beginning, she contrived
for him a joyless end; for she is wont to smile that she may
afterwards rage, to flatter that she may deceive, to raise up that she
may cast down. All at once, there rose up against him Robert of
Montfort, his kinsman and equal in birth and power, impeaching and
accusing him before the princes of the land, of treason against the
King. For he asserted that Henry, in the war with the Welsh, in the
difficult pass of Coleshill, had traitorously thrown down the standard
of our lord the King, and had with a loud voice proclaimed his death,
and so turned to flight those who were hastening to his assistance. In
point of fact, the aforesaid Henry of Essex did believe that the
famous King Henry the Second, who had been intercepted by the
stratagems of the Welsh, had been killed; and this would indeed have
been the case, if Roger Earl of Clare, illustrious (clarus) by reason
of birth, and more illustrious by deeds of valour, had not come up in
good time with his Clare men, and raised the standard of our lord the
King, to the encouragement and heartening of the whole army. Henry,
indeed, strenuously opposed the aforesaid Robert in a speech, and
absolutely denied the accusation, so that after a short lapse of time
it came to a trial by battle. And they came to Reading to fight in a
certain island hard by the abbey; and thither also came a multitude to
see what issue the matter would take.
Now it came to pass, while Robert of Montfort thundered upon him
manfully with hard and frequent strokes, and a bold onset had promised
the fruit of victory, Henry, his strength a little failing him,
glanced round on all sides, and lo! on the border of the land and
water he saw the glorious King and martyr, Edmund, armed, and as if
hovering in the air, looking towards him with a severe countenance,
shaking his head with threats of anger and indignation. He also saw
with him another knight, Gilbert of Cereville, not only in appearance
inferior, but less in stature from the shoulders, direct his eyes upon
him as if angry and wrathful. This man, by the order of the same
Henry, had been afflicted with chains and torments, and had closed his
days in prison at the instance and on the accusation of Henry's wife;
who, turning her own wickedness upon an innocent person, stated that
she could not endure the solicitations of Gilbert to unlawful love.
Therefore, Henry, on sight of these apparitions, became anxious and
fear-stricken, and remembered that old crime brings new shame.
Becoming wholly desperate, and changing reason into violence, he
assumed the part of one who attacked, not one who was on the
defensive; who, while he struck fiercely, was more fiercely struck;
and while he manfully fought, was more manfully attacked in his turn.
In short, he fell vanquished.
As he was believed to be dead, upon the petition of the great men of
England, his kinsmen, it was permitted that the monks of that place
should give his body the rites of sepulture. Nevertheless, he
afterwards recovered, and now with restored health, he has wiped out
the blot upon his previous life under the regular habit, and in his
endeavour to cleanse the long week of his dissolute life by at least
one purifying sabbath, has so cultivated the studies of the virtues,
as to bring forth the fruit of happiness.]
CHAPTER IX
TROUBLES WITHOUT
Geoffrey Ridel, Bishop of Ely, sought from the abbot some timber for
the purpose of constructing certain great buildings at Glemsford. This
request the abbot granted, but against his will, not daring to offend
him. Now the abbot making some stay at Melford, there came a certain
clerk of the bishop, asking on behalf of his lord, that the promised
timber might be taken at Elmswell; and he made a mistake in the word,
saying Elmswell when he should have said Elmsett, which is the name of
a certain wood at Melford. And the abbot was astonished at the
request, for such timber was not to be found at Elmswell.
Now when Richard the forester of the same town had heard of this, he
secretly informed the abbot that the bishop had the previous week sent
his carpenters to spy out the wood of Elmsett, and had chosen the best
timber trees in the whole wood, and placed his marks thereon. On
hearing this, the abbot directly discovered that the messenger of the
bishop had made an error in his request, and answered that he would
willingly do as the bishop pleased.
On the morrow, upon the departure of the messenger, immediately after
he had heard mass, the abbot went into the before-named wood with his
carpenters, and caused to be branded with his mark not only all the
oaks previously marked, but more than a hundred others, for the use of
St. Edmund, and for the steeple of the great tower, commanding that
they should be felled as quickly as possible. When the bishop, by the
answer of his messenger, understood that the aforesaid timber might be
taken at Elmswell, he sent back the same messenger (whom he
overwhelmed with many hard words) to the abbot, in order that he might
correct the word which he had mistaken, by saying Elmsett, not
Elmswell. But before he had come to the abbot, all the trees which the
bishop desired and his carpenters had marked were felled. So the
bishop, if he wanted timber, had to get other timber elsewhere. As for
myself, when I witnessed this affair, I laughed, and said in my heart,
"Thus art is deceived by art."
On the death of Abbot Hugh, the wardens of the abbey desired to depose
the bailiffs of the town of St. Edmund, and to appoint new bailiffs of
their own authority, saying that this appertained to the King, in
whose hand the abbey then was. But we, complaining thereof, sent our
messengers to lord Ranulf de Glanville, then justiciary. He answered,
that he well knew that forty pounds a year ought to be paid from the
town to our sacrist, specially for the lights of the church; and he
said that Abbot Hugh, of his own will, and in his privy chamber,
without the consent of the convent, had granted the bailiwick as often
as he chose, and unto whom he chose, saving the forty pounds payable
to the altar. And therefore it was not to be wondered at if the King's
bailiffs required this same thing on the King's behalf. Speaking in
bitter language, he called all our monks fools for having permitted
our abbot to do such things, not considering that the chief duty of
monks is to hold their peace, and pass over with closed eyes the
excesses of their prelates; nor yet considering that they are called
barrators if they, whether it be right or wrong, contravene their
superiors in anything; and, further, that sometimes we are accused of
treason and are condemned to prison and to exile. Wherefore it seems
to myself and others the better counsel to die as confessors rather
than as martyrs.
On the return of our messenger home, and on his relating what he had
seen and heard, we, as being unwilling and, as it were, under
compulsion, resolved, so far as we were able, that the old bailiffs of
the town should be deposed, as well with the common consent of the
convent, as by the keepers of the abbey. Samson, then sub-sacrist, was
very reluctant to join in this proposition. However, when Samson was
made abbot, he, calling to remembrance the wrong done to the abbey, on
the morrow after the Easter following his election, caused to be
assembled in our chapter-house the knights and clerks, and a number of
the burgesses, and then in the presence of them all, said that the
town belonged to the convent and to the altar, namely, to find tapers
for the church; and that he was desirous of renewing the ancient
custom, so that in the presence of the convent, and with the consent
of all, some measure should be taken concerning the bailiwick of the
town, and of such like matters which appertained to the convent.
At that time were nominated two burgesses, Godfrey and Nicholas, to be
bailiffs; and a discussion taking place from whose hand they should
receive the horn, which is called the moot-horn, at last they took it
from the hands of the prior, who, next to the abbot, is head over the
affairs of the convent.
Now these two bailiffs kept their bailiwick in peace many years, until
they were said to be remiss in keeping the King's justice. On the
abbot's suggestion that greater security should be given to the
convent upon this point, they were removed, and Hugh the sacrist took
the town into his own keeping, appointing new officers, who were to
answer to him concerning the bailiwick. In process of time, I know not
how, new bailiffs were subsequently appointed, and that elsewhere than
in chapter, and without the concurrence of the church; wherefore a
like or perhaps greater peril is to be apprehended after the decease
of Abbot Samson than even was after the death of Abbot Hugh.
One of our brethren, too, fully relying upon the regard and friendship
of the abbot, upon a fit opportunity and with propriety and decency,
talked over the matter with him, asserting that dissatisfaction was
expressed in the convent. But the abbot upon hearing this was silent
for a long time, as if he was somewhat disturbed. At length he is
reported to have said, "Am not I, even I, the abbot? Does it not
belong to me alone to make order concerning the affairs of the church
committed to my care, provided only that I should act with wisdom and
according to God's will? If there should be default in the
administration of the King's justice in this town, I shall be
challenged for it; I shall be summoned; upon myself alone will rest
the burden of the journey, and the expenses, and the defence of the
town and its appurtenances; I alone shall be deemed a fool, not the
prior, not the sacrist, nor yet the convent, but myself, who am and
ought to be their head. Through me and my counsel, with God's
assistance, will the town be securely preserved to the best of my
ability, and safe also will be those forty pounds payable annually to
the altar. Let the brethren grumble, let them slander me, let them say
amongst themselves what they will, I am still their father and their
abbot; so long as I live 'I will not give my glory to another.'" This
said, that monk departed, and reported these answers to us.
I for my part marvelled at such sayings, and argued with myself in
various ways. At length I was compelled to remain in a state of doubt,
inasmuch as the rule of law says and teaches, that all things should
be under the governance of the abbot.
The merchants of London claimed to be quit of toll at the fair of St.
Edmund. Nevertheless many paid it, unwillingly indeed, and under
compulsion; whereof a great tumult and commotion was made among the
citizens in London at their hustings. They came in a body and informed
Abbot Samson that they were entitled to be quit of toll throughout all
England, by authority of the charter which they had from King Henry
the Second. The abbot answered that were it necessary, he was well
able to vouch the King to warrant that he had never granted them any
charter to the prejudice of our church, or to the prejudice of the
liberties of St. Edmund, to whom St. Edward had granted and confirmed
toll and theam and all regalities before the conquest of England; and
that King Henry had done no more than give to the Londoners an
exemption from toll throughout his own lordships, and in places where
he was able to grant it; but so far as concerned the town of St.
Edmund he was not able so to do, for it was not his to dispose of. The
Londoners, hearing this, ordered by common council that none of them
should go to the fair of St. Edmund. For two years they kept away,
whereby our fair sustained great loss, and the offering of the sacrist
was much diminished. At last, upon the mediation of the Bishop of
London and many others, it was settled between us and them that they
should come to the fair, and that some of them should pay toll, but
that it should be forthwith returned to them, that by such a
colourable act the privilege on both sides should be preserved.
But in process of time, when the abbot had made agreement with his
knights, and as it were slept in tranquillity, behold again "the
Philistines be upon thee, Samson!" Lo! the Londoners, with one voice,
were threatening that they would lay level with the earth the stone
houses which the abbot had built that very year, or that they would
take distress by a hundredfold from the men of St. Edmund, unless the
abbot forthwith redressed the wrong done them by the bailiffs of the
town of St. Edmund, who had taken fifteen pence from the carts of the
citizens of London, who in their way from Yarmouth, laden with
herrings, had made passage through our demesnes. Furthermore, the
citizens of London said that they were quit of toll in every market,
and on every occasion, and in every place throughout all England, from
the time when Rome was first founded, and that London was founded at
the very same time. Also, that they ought to have such an exemption
throughout all England, as well by reason of its being a privileged
city, which was of old time the metropolis and head of the kingdom, as
by reason of its antiquity. The abbot asked that the matter might be
deferred until the return of our lord the King to England, that he
might consult with him upon this; and having taken advice of the
lawyers, he replevied to the claimants those fifteen pence, without
prejudice to the question of each party's right.
In the tenth year of the abbacy of Abbot Samson, by the common counsel
of our chapter, we complained to the abbot in his own hall, stating
that the rents and issues of all the good towns and boroughs of
England were increasing and augmenting, to the profit of the
possessors, and the well-thriving of their lords, all except this our
town, which had long yielded forty pounds, and had never gone beyond
that sum; and that the burgesses of the town were the cause of this
thing. For they held so large and so many standings in the
market-place, of shops and sheds and stalls, without the assent of the
convent, indeed from the sole gift of the bailiffs of the town, who in
old time were but yearly renters, and, as it were, ministers of the
sacrist, and were removable at his good pleasure. The burgesses, being
summoned, made answer that they were under the jurisdiction of the
King's courts, nor would they make answer in derogation of the
immunity of the town and their charters, in respect of the tenements
which they and their fathers had holden well and peaceably for one
year and a day without claim. They also said the old custom had been
that the bailiffs should, without the interference of the convent,
dispose of the places of the shops and sheds in the market-place, in
consideration of a certain rent payable yearly to the bailiwick. But
we, gainsaying this, were desirous that the abbot should disseise them
of tenements for which they had no warranty.
Now the abbot coming to our council, as if he were one of us, said to
us in private, that he was willing enough to do us right, according to
the best of his ability, but that he, nevertheless, was bound to
proceed in due course of law; nor could he, without the judgment of a
court, disseise his free men of their lands or rents, which they had
held for many years, were it justly or unjustly. If he should do this,
he said, he should fall into the King's mercy by the assize of the
realm. Therefore, the burgesses, taking counsel together, offered to
the convent a rent of one hundred shillings for the sake of peace; and
that they should hold their tenements as they had been wont to do. But
we, on the other hand, were by no means willing to grant this, rather
desiring to put that plaint in respite, hoping, perhaps, in the time
of another abbot, to recover all, or change the place of the fair; and
so the affair was deferred for many years.
When the abbot had returned from Germany, the burgesses offered him
sixty marks, and sued for his confirmation of the liberties of the
town, under the same form of words as Anselm, and Ording, and Hugh had
confirmed them; all which the abbot graciously accorded.
Notwithstanding our murmuring and grumbling, a charter was accordingly
made to them in the terms of his promise; and because it would have
been a shame and confusion to him if he had not been able to fulfil
his promise, we were not willing to contradict him, or provoke him to
anger.
The burgesses, indeed, from the period when they had the charter of
Abbot Samson and the convent, became more confident that they, at
least in the time of Abbot Samson, would not lose their tenements or
their franchises; so that never afterwards, as they did before, were
they willing to pay or offer the before-named rent of one hundred
shillings. At length, however, the abbot giving attention to this
matter, discoursed with the burgesses hereupon, saying that unless
they made their peace with the convent, he should forbid their
erecting their booths at the fair of St. Edmund.
They, on the other hand, answered that they were willing to give every
year a silken cope, or some other ornament, to the value of one
hundred shillings, as they had before promised to do; but
nevertheless, upon this condition, that they were to be for ever quit
of the tithes of their profits, which the sacrist sharply demanded of
them. The abbot and the sacrist both refused this, and therefore the
plaint was again put in respite.
In point of fact, we have from that time to the present lost those
hundred shillings, according to the old saying, "He that will not when
he may, when he will he shall have nay."
CHAPTER X
TROUBLES WITHIN
The cellarers quickly succeeded each other, and every one of them at
the year's end became involved in a great debt. There were given to
the cellarer, in aid, twenty pounds out of Mildenhall, but this did
not suffice. After that, fifty pounds were assigned to the cellarer
each year from the same manor; and yet the cellarer used to say that
this was not enough. The abbot, therefore, being anxious to provide
for his security from loss and comfort, as well as for our own,
knowing that in all our wants we must have recourse to him as to the
father of the monastery, associated with the cellarer a certain clerk
of his own table, by name Ranulf, so that he might assist him both as
a witness and companion in the expenses and receipts. And lo! many of
us speak many things, murmurings thicken, falsehoods are invented,
scandals are interwoven with scandals, nor is there a corner in the
house which does not resound with venomous hissing.
One says to another, "What is this that is done? Who ever saw the
like? There never was such an insult offered to the convent before.
Behold! the abbot has set a clerk over a monk; see, he has made a
clerk a master and keeper over the cellarer, as if he could do no good
without him. The abbot thinks but lightly of his monks; he suspects
his monks; he consults clerks; he loves clerks. 'How is the gold
become dim! How is the fine gold changed!'" Also one friend says to
another, "We are become a reproach to our neighbours. All of us monks
are either reckoned faithless or improvident; the clerk is believed,
the monk is not. The abbot had rather trust the clerk than the monk.
Now is this clerk a whit more faithful or wise than a monk would be?"
And again, one friend would say to another, "Are not the cellarer and
sub-cellarer, or can they not be, as faithful as the sacrist or the
chamberlain? The consequence is, that this abbot or his successor will
put a clerk along with the sacrist, a clerk with the chamberlain, a
clerk with the sub-sacrists to collect the offerings at the shrine,
and so on with all the officials, wherefore we shall be a
laughing-stock and derision to the whole people."
I, hearing these things, was accustomed to answer, "If I, for my part,
were cellarer, I had rather that a clerk were a witness for me in all
my transactions; for if I did well he would bear witness of the good.
If, again, I had, at the end of the year, become laden with debt, I
should be able to gain credence and to be excused by the testimony of
that clerk."
I heard, indeed, one of our brethren, a man truly discreet and
learned, say something upon this subject which struck myself and
others very much. "It is not," he said, "to be wondered at, should the
lord abbot interpose his exertions in the safe conduct of our affairs,
especially as he wisely manages that portion of the abbey which
belongs to him, and is discreet in the disposing of his own house, it
being his part to supply our wants in case of our carelessness or
inability to do so. But there is one thing," he added, "which will
prove dangerous after the death of the abbot Samson, such as has never
come to pass in our days or in our lives. Of a surety the King's
bailiffs will come, and will possess themselves of the abbey, I mean
the barony which belongs to the abbot, as was done in the past after
the deaths of other Abbots. As after the death of Abbot Hugh, the
King's bailiffs likewise desired to appoint new bailiffs in the town
of St. Edmund, alleging as their warrant that Abbot Hugh had done
this, in the same way the King's bailiffs will, in process of time,
appoint their clerk to keep the cellary, in order that everything
shall be done therein by him, and under his discretion. And then we
shall be told that they are entitled to act in this manner because
Abbot Samson did so. Thus they will have the power of intermixing and
confusing all the concerns and rents of the abbot and of the convent;
all which, indeed, Abbot Robert, of good memory, had, with due
consideration, distinguished in account, and had separated one from
the other."
When I heard these and such like expressions from a man of great
thought and foresight, I was astonished, and held my peace, not
wishing either to condemn the lord abbot, or to excuse him.
Hubert Walter, the Archbishop of Canterbury and legate of the
apostolic see, and Justiciary of England, after he had visited many
churches, and had by right of his legation made many changes and
alterations, was on his way home from his natural mother, who lived at
Dereham and was then dying. He sent two of his clerks over to us,
bearing the sealed letters of their lord, wherein it was contained
that we should give credit to what they should say and do. These men
inquired of the abbot and convent whether we were willing to receive
their lord, the legate, who was on his way to us, in such wise as a
legate ought to be received, and, in fact, is received by other
churches. If we were agreed to this, he would shortly come to us, for
the purpose of making order concerning the matters and affairs of our
church according to God's will; but if we were not agreed, those two
clerks could more fully communicate to us their lord's behest.
Thereupon the abbot called together most of the convent, and we came
to the decision that we would give a gracious answer to the clerks
thus sent to us, saying that we were willing to receive their lord as
legate with all honour and reverence, and to send together with them
our own messengers, who, on our part, should communicate the same to
the lord legate.
Our intention was that, in the same way as we had done to the Bishop
of Ely and other legates, we would show him all possible honour, with
a procession and ringing of bells, and would receive him with the
usual solemnities, until it should come to the point, perhaps, of his
holding a visitation in chapter. If he were to proceed in doing this,
then all of us were to oppose him might and main to his face,
appealing to Rome, and standing upon our charters. And the lord abbot
said, "If at this present time the legate will come to us, we will do
as is aforesaid, but if indeed he shall defer his arrival to us for a
time, we will consult the lord Pope, and inquire what force the
privileges of our church ought to have, as being those which have been
obtained from him and his predecessors, against the archbishop who has
now obtained power from the apostolic see over all the privileged
churches of England." Such was our determination.
When the archbishop had heard that we were willing to receive him as
legate, he received our messengers graciously and with giving of
thanks. And he became favourable and kindly disposed towards the lord
abbot in all his concerns, and for certain pressing causes deferred
his visit to us for a time. Therefore, without the least delay, the
abbot sent to the Pope the same letters which the legate had sent to
him and the convent, wherein it was contained that he was about to
come to us by authority of his legation, and by the authority of the
Pope, and, moreover, that to him was given power over all the exempt
churches of England, notwithstanding the letters of exemption obtained
by the church of York or any other.
The abbot's messenger expediting the matter, our lord the Pope wrote
to the lord of Canterbury, asserting that our church, as his spiritual
daughter, ought not to be accountable to any legate, unless he were a
legate of our lord the Pope sent _a latere_, and enjoined him that he
should not stretch forth his hand against us; and our lord the Pope
added as from himself a prohibition against his exercising
jurisdiction over any other exempt church. Our messenger returned to
us, and this was kept a secret for many days. Nevertheless, the same
was intimated to the lord of Canterbury by some of his adherents at
the court of our lord the Pope.
When, at the end of the year, the legate made his visitation through
Norfolk and Suffolk, and had first arrived at Colchester, the legate
sent his messenger to the abbot, privately letting him thereby know
that he (the legate) had heard say that the abbot had obtained letters
contravening his legation, and requesting that he, in a friendly way,
would send him those letters. And it was done accordingly, for the
abbot had two counterparts of these letters. The abbot, indeed, did
not pay a visit to the legate, either by himself or by proxy, so long
as he was in the diocese of Norwich, lest it should be thought that he
wished to make fine with the legate for his entertainment, as other
monks and canons had done. The legate, disconcerted and angry and
fearing to be shut out if he came to us, passed by Norwich, by Acre
and by Dereham to Ely, on his way to London.
The abbot meeting the legate within the month, between Waltham and
London, on the King's highway, the legate censured him for having
refused to meet him, as being justiciary of our lord the King whilst
he was in that country. The abbot answered that he had not travelled
as justiciary, but as legate, making visitation in every church; and
alleged the reason of the time of year, and that the passion of our
Lord was nigh at hand, and that it behoved him to be concerned with
Divine services and cloister duties.
When the abbot had opposed words to words, and objections to
objections, and could neither be bent nor intimidated by threatening
language, the legate replied with scorn that he well knew him to be a
keen wrangler, and that he was a better clerk than he, the legate,
was. The abbot, therefore, not timidly passing by matters inexpedient
to allude to, nor yet arrogantly speaking upon matters that were to be
discussed, in the hearing of many persons made answer that he was a
man who would never suffer the privileges of his church to be shaken
either for want of learning or money, even if it should come to pass
that he lost his life, or was condemned to perpetual banishment.
However, these and other altercations being brought to a close, the
legate began to flush in the face, upon the abbot lowering his tone
and beseeching him that he would deal more gently with the church of
St. Edmund, by reason of his native soil, for he was native born of
St. Edmund, and had been his fosterling. And, indeed, he had reason to
blush, because he had so unadvisedly outpoured the venom which he had
bred within him.
On the morrow it was communicated to the Archbishop of Canterbury,
that the lord Archbishop of York was about to come as legate into
England, and that he had suggested many evil things to the Pope
concerning him, stating that he had oppressed the churches of England
by reason of his visitation to the extent of thirty thousand marks,
which he had received from them. The legate, therefore, sent his
clerks to the abbot, begging him that he would, with the other abbots,
write to our lord the Pope and justify him.
This the abbot willingly did, and thereby offered his testimony that
the lord of Canterbury had not been to our church, nor had he
oppressed any other church, speaking according to his conscience. And
when the abbot had delivered those letters to the messengers of the
archbishop, he said before us all that he did not fear, even if it
were the archbishop's wish to deal deceitfully with those letters. The
clerks answered on the peril of their souls, that their lord did not
contemplate any subtle dealings, but only wished to be justified. And
so the archbishop and the abbot were made friends.
CHAPTER XI
SAMSON'S CONTESTS WITH KNIGHTS, MONKS AND TOWNSMEN
King Richard commanded all the bishops and abbots of England that for
every nine knights of their baronies they should make a tenth knight,
and that without delay those knights should go to him in Normandy,
with horses and arms, in aid against the King of France. Wherefore it
behoved the abbot to account to him for sending four knights. And when
he had caused to be summoned all his knights, and had conferred with
them thereon, they made answer that their fees, which they had holden
of St. Edmund, were not liable to this charge, neither had they or
their fathers ever gone out of England, although they had, on some
occasions, paid escuage by the King's writ.
The abbot was indeed in a strait; on one hand observing that hereby
the liberty of his knights was in peril, on the other hand
apprehending that he might lose the seisin of his barony for default
in the King's service, as indeed had befallen the Bishop of London and
many English barons. So he forthwith we
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