Tho once surrounded by fenland, the Abbey of Glastonbury--a veritable
treasure-house of legendary lore--stands now amid orchards and level
pasture lands engirt by the river Bure. The majestic Tor overshadows this
spot, where, undoubtedly, the first British Christian settlement was
established. The name of the new builder of the first early church can
never be ascertained, so that in want of more substantial evidence the old
legend of St. Joseph of Arimathaea must be accepted, however slight its
claims to historical authority. Certain it is that Christianity was
introduced into this land on the island of Yniswytryn, or "Isle of Glass"
(so called on account of its crystal streams), in the very early
centuries.
According to the Arthurian legends, St. Philip, Lazarus, Martha, Mary and
Joseph of Arimathaea, having been banished by their countrymen, journeyed
to Marseilles, from whence Joseph, with twelve companions and holy women,
was sent by St. Philip to Britain. They landed on the southwest coast and
made their way to Glastonbury, then Avalon (and so named in allusion to
its apple orchards), and by means of preaching and many miraculous deeds
persuaded the people to adopt Christianity. Gaining the good will of King
Arviragus, they built a church of wattle and twigs on the ground given to
them by their royal patron. The Benedictine, with its later developments
in Norman times of Augustine and Cluniac orders, was the first religious
order introduced into this country. It was instituted in Italy early in
the sixth century by St. Benedict of Nursia. Many monasteries established
before the Conquest came under its sway, and were, centuries later, after
the Dissolution, converted into cathedral churches.
A sharp distinction should be drawn between the monasteries established
previous to the Conquest and those subsequently founded by the Cistercian
and other orders. The former were national houses--in every way belonging
to the English people and untouched by Papal influence; while the latter,
which were under the immediate control of the Bishop of Rome, were
essentially of foreign foundation....
King Ina, persuaded by St. Aldhelm, rebuilt and reendowed the abbey in the
eighth century, renounced his royal state, and lived as an ordinary
civilian, being induced to do so by extraordinary devices on the part of
his wife Ethelburgh. On one occasion, after King Ina had given a great
feast to his barons, he and his queen left the castle and proceeded to
another of the royal residences. Before leaving, Ethelburgh had commanded
the servants to strip the castle of all its valuables, furniture, etc.,
and to fill it with rubbish, and to put a litter of pigs in the king's
bed. A short distance on their journey, Ethelburgh persuaded the king to
return, and, showing him over the desecrated palace, exhorted him to
consider the utter worthlessness of all earthly splendor and the
advisability of joining her on a pilgrimage to Rome. Imprest by her words,
Ina acted as she advised, and later endowed a school in Rome in which
Anglo-Saxon children might become acquainted with the customs of foreign
countries. Ina and Ethelburgh spent the remainder of their days in privacy
in the Holy City.
The famous Dunstau, one of the greatest of ecclesiastical statesmen, was
born in Glastonbury, and, after proving his many marvelous capabilities
and aptitude for learning, was made abbot of the Benedictine house in his
native town in the reign of Edmund the Magnificent. Many strange stories
are told of him--the most fantastic, perhaps, being that of his interview
with the natural enemy of man, the Devil himself, during which the
reverend man became either so irritated or terrified that he was provoked
to seize the nose of his ghostly visitor with a pair of red-hot
pincers....
The fame belonging to this noble foundation exceeded that of any other
great building in England. An old writer tells us, "Kings and queens, not
only of the West Saxons, but of other kingdoms; several archbishops and
bishops; many dukes; and the nobility of both sexes thought themselves
happy in increasing the revenues of this venerable house, to ensure
themselves a place of burial therein." The story of the burial of St.
Joseph of Arimathaea at Glastonbury, to us a mere shadowy legend, was
accepted as a fact in the early English ages, and that it figured in the
mind of these worthies as endowing Glastonbury with extraordinary sanctity
is beyond doubt.
At the time of the Dissolution no corruption whatever was revealed at
Glastonbury, nor any blame recorded against its management. It was still
doing splendid work, having daily services and extending its educational
influence for miles around. There was but scanty comfort for its inmates,
who rested on a straw mattress and bolster on their narrow bedstead in a
bare cell, and whose food, duties and discipline were marked by an austere
simplicity. Nor were they idle, these monks of Glastonbury--some taught in
the abbey school, others toiled in the orchards, and the beauty of the
stained glass, designed within the abbey walls, found fame far and wide.
Richard Whiting was Abbot of Glastonbury when, in 1539, Henry VIII.
ordered inquiries to be made into the condition and property of the abbey.
Altho he recognized the monarch as supreme head of the church, he
respected the Glastonbury traditions and met the "visitors" in a spirit of
passive resistance. With the object of preserving them from desecration,
the abbot had concealed some of the communion vessels, and for this
offense the venerable man was tried and condemned to death. His head,
white with the touch of eighty years, was fixt upon the abbey gate, and
the rest of his body quartered and sent to Bath, Wells, Bridgwater, and
Ilchester. The abbey building--one of the most perfect examples of
architecture in the land--served as a stone quarry, much of the material
being used to make a road over the fenland from Glastonbury to Wells. The
revenue at the time of the Dissolution was over £3,000, a big income in
those days.