impossible for inland monasteries to have fish enough, to eat flesh
became unavoidable.[74] However, to the great rule all their articles of
food bore relation; namely, bread, beer, soup, beans for soup, all Lent;
oats for gruel, on Thursdays and Saturdays, in that season; flour for
pottage, every day in the same season; fried dishes, _wastels_, or fine
bread for dinner and supper, on certain feasts; _formictæ_, or fine
flour cakes, in Advent, Christmas, against Lent, Easter, Pentecost, and
certain feasts; ‘fat things,’ which appear to have been bacon,[75] were
frequent with the Præmonstratenses; black beans and salt, with the
Clugniacks; general bad fare with the <g>Cistercians</g>. In certain
solemnities, we are told the convent was in the habit of retiring with
the Abbot, leaving a few in the refectory, in order to eat meat
elsewhere; and that they frequently dined in ‘extra-cloister’
apartments, where “they used to invite women (devout nuns, perhaps) to
talk, eat, and drink with them.”[76]
<g>Diet</g> was strictly prescribed; variety of viands was forbidden; flesh was
allowed only to the sick or invalids; fish, eggs, milk, butter, and
cheese, were not to be used on common days, but only on special
occasions, as dainties or “pittances.”[77] None but their guests and the
sick were allowed any other than brown bread; they might use the common
herbs of the country; but pepper and other spices were forbidden.
These observations, quoted from various authorities, apply to the
monastic Orders generally, among whom the regulations of the refectory
appear to have been nearly the same; but that order to which the Abbey
of <g>Tinterne</g> belonged, professed the greatest abstinence, mortified diet,
and abhorrence of all luxuries. To the devout taste of St. <g>Bernard</g>, the
most rigid rules were the most agreeable; and hence he became a
<g>Cistercian</g>, the strictest of the monastic orders in France. At that time
they were but few in number, for, owing to their excessive austerities,
men were discouraged from joining them. Bernard, however, by his
superior genius, his eminent piety, and his ardent zeal, gave to this
<g>Order</g> a permanent lustre and celebrity. At the age of twenty-three, with
more than thirty companions, he entered into the monastery, and was
afterwards appointed Abbot of <g>Clairval</g>. To those noviciates who desired
admission, he used to say--“If ye hasten to those which are within,
dismiss your bodies which ye brought from the world; let the spirit
alone enter here; the flesh profiteth nothing.” “Yet, amidst all these
disagreeable austerities,” says his biographer, “the soul of Bernard was
inwardly taught of God; and as he grew in the divine life, he learned to
correct the harshness and asperities of his sentiments.”
The <g>Cistercian</g> habit, as shown in the preceding woodcut, was a white
robe in the nature of a cassock, with a black scapular and hood. Their
garment was girt with a black girdle of wool; in the choir, they had
over it a white cowl, and over that a hood, with a rochet hanging down,
bound before to the waist, in a point behind to the calf of the leg.
When they went abroad, they wore a cowl and a great hood, all black,
which was also the choir habit.
<g>The Lay Brothers</g> of this Order were clad in a dark colour; their
scapular hung down about a foot in length before, and was rounded at the
bottom. Their hood was like that which the priests wore over their cowl,
excepting the difference of the colour. In the choir they wore a cloak
or mantle, reaching to the ground, and of the same colour as the habit.
<g>The Novices</g>, who were clerks, wore the same habit in the church, but it
was all white; their scapular was not of the same length in all places,
for sometimes it reached only half-way down the thigh, in others to the
midleg, or even to the heels.[78]
The sumptuary regulations extended even to the ornaments of their
churches, and the vestments of the ministers. The altar cloth, the
_alb_, and the service, were to be of plain linen; the stole and
maniple, which were at first of cloth, were allowed afterwards to be of
silk. Palls, capes, dalmatics, and tunics, were forbidden. The crosses
were to be of wood, painted; and it was forbidden to have them made of
carved work, or of silver or gold. The cruets for the service of the
altar, were not to be of gold or silver: the <g>chalice</g> and fistula might
be of silver gilt; the <g>candlesticks</g> were to be iron, and the <g>censers</g> of
iron or copper. Pictures or painted glass were not to be allowed in
their churches; which in all monasteries of this order were dedicated to
<g>God</g>, under the invocation of the <g>Virgin Mary</g>.
[Illustration]
<g>Cistercians</g>, according to the reformed rule, were obliged to perform
their devotions together seven times every twenty-four hours. The
_Nocturnal_, the first of these services, was performed at two o’clock
in the morning; two Matins, or _Prime_, commenced at six o’clock;
_Tierce_, at nine o’clock; the _Sexte_, at twelve o’clock; the _None_,
at three in the afternoon; _Vespers_, at six; and the _Compline_, at
seven o’clock in the evening. As the monks retired to bed at eight,
they had six hours to sleep before the Nocturnal began; and if they
again betook themselves to rest, after that service, it was not
considered any fault or infringement of the rule; but after matins, they
were not permitted to have the same indulgence. At the first stroke of
the convent-bell for prayers, they were to suspend all matters of
business in which they might happen to be engaged at the moment; and
those who copied books, or were employed in any kind of writing--even if
they had begun a text letter--were not allowed to finish it. They were
to fast every day in <g>Lent</g>, till six o’clock in the evening. During
meals, as already mentioned in these pages, the Scriptures were read to
them by one of the brethren, who performed this and other offices in
weekly rotation. After the Compline, all conversation was prohibited,
and they silently retired to rest. The dormitory was a long barrack-like
room, not divided into separate cells, where each monk had his own bed
furnished with a mat, blanket, coverlet, and a pillow which was not to
exceed a foot and a half in length. When any of the fraternity went
abroad, they always walked in couples, so that each might be a check
upon the other, and incite him to edifying thoughts.[79]
At a General Chapter of the Cistercian Order, held in the year 1134, it
was resolved that the rules of St. Benedict regarding diet, clothing,
morals, and divine service, should continue to be strictly observed; and
to these were added many new regulations for the suppression of luxury.
It was directed that their monasteries, as already observed, should be
founded in the most retired and solitary places; that the members of the
Order should provide the necessaries of life by the labour of their
hands. They were allowed, however, to possess lands, rivers, woods,
vineyards, and meadows; with sheep, oxen, horses, and other domestic
animals; but no deer nor bears, nor other animals kept merely[80] for
pleasure. They were forbidden to possess tithes, the advowsons or
revenues of churches, dues of ovens or mills, bond-servants, or even
rents of lands.[81] The reason for these restrictions was, that they
might not live by the labour of others; yet, upon the pretext of
enabling the monks to live in greater retirement and abstraction from
the world, they were allowed to admit into their community a certain
number of lay brothers, called converts, whose office consisted in
managing the secular business of the Convent, including the cultivation
of their lands, in which they were permitted to employ hired servants.
These lay brethren did not take the monastic vow; but in every other
respect they were treated exactly like the professed monks.
With regard to the extension of their order, no convent was allowed to
send forth a colony, unless the community consisted of at least sixty
monks, and held a license, both from the general chapter, and from the
archbishop, or bishop. Each monastery, as we have said, was to consist
of at least twelve monks and their superiors;[82] and before they could
be brought to their new residence, the buildings required for their
immediate accommodation were to be provided; namely, an oratory, a
dormitory, a stranger’s cell, and a porter’s lodge. The books required
for divine service, were also to be got ready. The superior of the new
establishment was bound to pay a visit to the parent monastery once a
year; and the Abbots of all the monasteries of the <g>Cistercian</g> order,
were obliged to attend the General Chapter held annually at
Cisteaux,[83] those only excepted, who were excused by sickness or
distance. Abbots in Scotland, Ireland, and Sicily, were obliged to be
present only every fourth year. In some cases it was even allowed to
send delegates.[84]
[Illustration: P]<g>rofessions.</g>--No person desirous of becoming a monk was
suffered to enter upon his noviciate under fifteen years of age. The
candidate having made his petition to be admitted, was, after four days,
brought before the abbot, and a select number of the monks in the
Chapter-house, where he threw himself down with his face to the ground.
Being asked by the Abbot what he desired, he replied,--“The mercy of God
and yours.” Upon this the Abbot made him stand up, and explained to him
the strictness of the rules, and the self-denial required in keeping
them; after which, he asked him if he was willing to submit to the
restraint they imposed. Upon his replying in the affirmative, the Abbot
admonished him, and when he concluded with these words,--“May GOD finish
the good work which he hath begun in thee;” all who were present said,
_Amen!_ and then the candidate bowed, and retired to the guest-chamber.
A similar ceremony was observed when he was again introduced into the
<g>Chapter-house</g> next day, after having read the rules of the Order. On the
third day, he was admitted into the cell of the novices, and began the
year of his probation; during which he was prepared and instructed for
taking the vows, by a person called the Master of the Novices, who was
usually one of the oldest and most learned of the monks. At the
conclusion of the twelvemonth’s probation, when it was supposed he had
had a sufficient trial of their discipline and manner of life, he was
again formally interrogated; and if he persisted in his request, he was
allowed to make his profession, and become a regular member of the
Order.[85] The following is a copy of the formulary used in English
monasteries on such occasions:--
“The first petycion in the Collogium: ‘Syr, I besyche yow and alle the
Convent for the luffe of God, our Ladye Sanct Marye, Sanct John of
Baptiste, and alle the hoyle cowrte of hevyne, that ye wolde resave me
to lyve and dye here emongs yow, in the state of a monke, a prebendarye
and servant unto alle, to the honour of God, solace to the companye,
prouffet to the place, and helth unto my sawle.’
“The answer unto the examinacyon: ‘Syr, I tryste through the helpe of
God, and your good prayers, to keep alle these thyngs ye have now heyr
rehersede.’
“The first petycion before the profession: ‘Syr, I have beyn heyr now
this twellmonth nere hand, and lovyde be God, me lykes ryght well both
the ordour and the companye. Whereupon I besyche yow, and all the
companye, for the luffe of God, our Ladye Sanct Marye, Sanct John of
Baptiste, and alle the hoyle companye of hevyn, that ye will resave me
unto my profession, at my twellmonth day, according to my petycion which
I made when I was first resaved heyr emongs yow.’”[86]
<g>The Cistercians</g>, much to their honour, took considerable pains to
cultivate and promote learning. The transcribing of books was one of the
principal occupations in all their monasteries. A certain number of the
brotherhood were constantly employed in the <g>Scriptorium</g>, in making
copies of the most esteemed works, to furnish and augment the common
library. None, however, were permitted to write new books, without first
obtaining a license to that effect from the General Chapter. In the
principal monasteries a chronicle was kept, in which the monks recorded,
in Latin, the most remarkable events, both of general and local
interest, that occurred within their knowledge.[87] The chronicle of
<g>Tinterne</g> Abbey, as partly transcribed in the Monasticon, contains copies
of those deeds and charters, by which former rights and privileges were
confirmed, and new benefactions added; but it includes no chronicle of
passing events, public or private.
Many and great were the privileges, franchises, and immunities granted
to this <g>Order</g> in general, by sundry kings and pontiffs; and on some
particular houses were conferred very special favours. The brothers of
the order were exempted from appearing in any court, or at the trial of
any cause whatever, if the distance from the monastery exceeded two
days’ journey. They were exempted from tithes; the ordinary could not
call upon, nor punish them for any crime; neither could their houses be
visited by any one, except their own abbot. Their benefactors, those who
frequented their mills [molendini], as well as their friends and
servants, were all exempted from the ban of excommunication.[88]
<g>Boniface</g> XI. made an effort to relieve them still farther, by exempting
them from the payment of tithes for their lands, though let out to
others; but this was rejected by King Henry IV., who would not permit
the bull for that purpose to be executed. The monks of Tinterne, in
common with their brethren of that order, enjoyed all the privileges and
immunities here named. They were great proficients in the science of
agriculture; and from the skill manifested in the cultivation of the
abbey lands, and in those occupied by their tenants, produced the
happiest effects on that important branch of rural economy.
<g>The Cloister</g>, which is so often described in poetry as the abode of
religious harmony, was nevertheless subject, at times, to all those
unruly passions which in the world engender strife amongst brethren, and
destroy the quiet of secular life. Every monastery contained within its
own walls, those elements of malice and dissension, which it required no
common energy on the part of the abbot to regulate and subdue. Perverse
men, clothed in the robe of meekness, were a constant source of trial to
those patterns of monastic discipline, who laboured to correct and
reform them.[89] Persecution within the cloister existed occasionally
under two forms: men of eminent sanctity suffered it from degenerate
brethren, sometimes, simply on account of their superior justice; and at
others, in consequence of their endeavours to reform them. Sometimes
when the monastery fell under the dominion of an evil superior, the
monks who persevered in sanctity fled from his persecution.[90]
The character of a good <g>Cistercian</g> monk, contrasted with one of an
opposite disposition, is thus drawn:--It happened that the pious <g>Gobert</g>,
a monk of Villars, having to undertake a journey for the arrangement of
certain affairs, set out accompanied by one of the brothers named Peter.
Arriving late in the evening at a town where they were to pass the
night, they were fatigued and exhausted with the labour and heat of the
day; and Peter, causing a table to be spread, drew from the bag he
carried, abundant provisions, and then ordered cups to be served, and
many things made ready for their repast. To the pious Gobert, all this
seemed to be more than necessary, more than was consistent with perfect
moderation, and his conscience silently accused him of yielding too
readily to the force of temptation. But after both had supped, he did
not venture to give utterance to the compunctious feelings that were
then passing in his mind. Next morning, however, as they were again
prosecuting their journey through umbrageous lanes, he began meekly and
humbly to disclose his thoughts; expressing his fears that the expense
of the previous day had exceeded their wants; adding, that the patrimony
of <g>Christ</g> ought not to be spent in superfluities, but given to the poor;
that beneficed clerks are only dispensers of the <g>Church</g>, not lords of
its substance; that when, in the words of St. Ambrose, we _assist the
poor, we give nothing of our own, but only that which the church
appoints us to dispense_; and, therefore, that ecclesiastical goods
belong not to clerks, but to the poor.[91]
Saying these and other things that pressed heavily on his mind, Gobert
lamented that he should have squandered the money which did not belong
to him. But brother Peter did not receive this reproof with a humble
mind; on the contrary, he became so angry that he did not answer him a
word. Thus they rode on for nearly three hours, Peter all the while
preserving a sullen and painful silence, which the holy Gobert
observing, he tried to soothe and turn away his displeasure, by
addressing him in terms of mild and brotherly affection. At last, seeing
that he could make no impression upon him, he said, “My brother, it is
time for us to discharge the service of hours to our Creator!”
Whereupon, according to the custom of the <g>Cistercians</g>, they dismounted
and knelt down to begin the office. In this posture of devotion, while
brother Peter was prostrate on the earth, Gobert, with clasped hands
turned towards him, and bursting into tears, humbly implored his
forgiveness for having, by words of admonition and seeming reproof,
moved his resentment. But as this did not appear to soften the monk’s
obdurate heart, he continued his entreaties, and declared that he would
not rise from his knees until he had forgiven him. At last, touched and
overcome by so much Christian humility, brother Peter relented; and,
taking Gobert by the hand, with feelings of mingled shame and
contrition, raised him up; and having freely forgiven him,[92] and
received his forgiveness, they went on their way rejoicing.
Thus far the chronicle, which the reader will find quoted in the Ages of
Faith. “But,” says the learned author, “it was chiefly as _reformers_ of
their respective communities, that the holy men of monastic life
suffered persecution.” In estimating the fortitude of those who laboured
in this vineyard, it is to be observed, that specious arguments were
never wanting to excuse the evil for which they sought a remedy. The
monks of St. Benedict, according to Orderic Vitalis, who resisted the
reform introduced by the Abbot Robert,[93] defended themselves on this
ground, urging that the different circumstances of the times required a
life different from that of the hermits of Egypt. “God forbid,” said
they, “that valiant knights, that subtile philosophers, and eloquent
doctors, merely because they have renounced the world, should be
obliged as mean slaves to occupy themselves in ignoble works.[94] On
these occasions, however, the real source of hostility was seldom
avowed. Much was advanced in the time of St. Bernard, in respect to the
colour of habits; but St. Peter the Venerable disengaged the question
from its adventitious appendages: “Perhaps,” said he, writing to St.
Bernard, “there is another and a deeper cause for this dissension
between the <g>Clugniacs</g> and the Cistercians--between the ancient and the
modern communities. We are _restorers of piety that was grown cold_; we
are distinguished from others in _manners_, as well as in habits and
customs. This is the secret and urgent cause of the breach of charity
and of tongues, that are sharpened like swords against us. And oh, how
much to be deplored, if the abstinence, the purity of a whole life; if
invincible obedience, if unbroken fasts, if perpetual vigils, if such a
yoke of discipline, if so many palms of patience, if so many
labours--not so much of an earthly, as of a celestial life--should be
dissipated by one hiss of the serpent: how much to be deplored, if the
old dragon should thus, in an instant, with one breath, dissipate all
your treasures collected by the grace of God, and leave you empty in the
sight of the Supreme Judge!”[95]
[Illustration: O]<g>f</g> the miraculous legends connected with these
institutions, the following, taken from the annals of a sister
abbey,[96] may serve as a specimen:--One evening, three strangers
knocked at the abbey gate, and being admitted to lodge there for the
night, were immediately conducted into the church, as the rule of St.
Benedict directs; and having there finished their devotions, they were
led back to the Guest Chamber, and welcomed in by brother Walter.
Thence, as soon as the ceremony of washing their feet was over, they
were summoned to the Refectory; but scarcely had they taken their seats,
when it was discovered that one of the strangers was missing, and his
chair empty. “Where,” said the hospitaller, addressing the other two;
“where is your companion?” “Companion!” said the strangers, greatly
surprised at the question; “thy servants had no companion.” “Nay,” quoth
the friar, “say not so, I pray you; for ’tis but this instant that I
placed three at table, and he who sat betwixt you has left his chair
empty.” “Nay, we assure thee,” rejoined the strangers, “that no _third_
person entered with us, neither have we journeyed hither with any man;
but, being overtaken by night, we came along to the abbey gate, nor have
we spoken to any man, save only thyself.” Strong in his own conviction,
friar Walter was immovable; and calling the porter and another monk to
his assistance, the fact of a third person having entered was confirmed
by their united testimony. Hereupon the strangers could only repeat what
they had already asserted; but to give it more solemnity, they called
St. Benedict himself to witness the truth of their words. All was
amazement; diligent search was made, but no foot had repassed the gate,
nor was any stranger to be found in church or cloisters; so the two
visitors, being spared all further question, were hospitably entertained
for the night, and dismissed with the usual benediction. The next night,
however, the hospitaller had a vision in his sleep: a personage of
angelic features appeared to him; and with a voice like that of
celestial music, said, “<g>Walter</g>, dost thou know me? I am the stranger
whose sudden disappearance last night so greatly moved the warder. Know
then, that by the good pleasure of heaven I am appointed to watch over
this Monastery; to attend the outgoing and the incoming of every holy
brother; and that my present errand is to certify that the alms and
oblations of this community, more especially of your <g>Abbot</g>, have
ascended in sweet memorial to heaven, and are accepted.” Again--
<g>Waltheof</g>, an abbot of whom we read in the Cistercian Annals, had many
severe trials to undergo, not only with refractory monks, but with the
arch-fiend himself, who appeared to have delegated the management of his
other affairs to inferior powers of darkness, in order that he himself
might direct his whole force and strategy against the uncompromising
Waltheof. But the abbot, aware of all these machinations, never lost an
inch of ground; every fresh rencontre was to him a fresh triumph; for
knowing the strength and skill of the enemy, he took up the shield of
faith, and, cased in this armour of proof, met his spiritual foe with a
look of contempt and defiance. To report their numerous conflicts, would
be to recapitulate the days of the life of Waltheof--for it was
literally a warfare. At length, one evening after Compline--when all the
monks had retired to the dormitory--the abbot continued lingering in the
church; for, feeling a weight at heart, he wished to unburden his grief
in solitary prayer and meditation. At such moments, it is well known,
the powers of darkness are always most active--most on the alert; and
Waltheof no sooner looked down the left aisle, than he perceived the
arch-fiend moving stealthily from behind a pillar. In this instance he
had assumed the habit of a monk; but as he cast no shadow behind him,
and caused no sound as he shuffled along the tesselated floor, the abbot
soon recognised his old customer, and calmly waited for him at the foot
of the altar. Seeing himself thus baffled, the fiend suddenly threw
aside his cowl, and assumed the terrific form of a soldier, armed at all
points, and of such gigantic proportions, that in a moment every pillar
in the nave seemed to have dwindled into insignificance. His grand
object, as the abbot foresaw, was to inspire him with sudden terror, and
thus drive him from his sanctuary; but the attempt was vain. He then
brandished a huge spear, and belching forth streams of blue fire as he
approached, made a feint, as if he would have hurled the weapon at his
head. But the abbot, continuing to make the sign of the cross, kept the
great adversary of mankind at bay; yet still finding that he did not
quit the sacred pile, he armed himself with the pix which contained the
sacred wafer; and then advancing, exclaimed, “Behold, thou wicked
soldier, thou base hireling! here is thy judge, who shall quickly send
thee to the bottomless pit! Wait for him if thou darest!” What need of
words; at this sight the foul fiend suddenly collapsed in all his
terrific proportions, and vanished in a cloud of smoke.[97]
These two examples may suffice to give the reader some idea of the
numerous legends with which the monastic annals abound: and, in addition
to what has been already said of the internal administration of this
order, we shall, from time to time, introduce other particulars, drawn
from various sources, but chiefly from their own chronicles.
[Illustration]
<g>Environs.</g>--It would be difficult to name a locality that, within so
small a compass, contains so many richly-varied landscapes, as the Vale
of Tinterne. In whatever direction we move, the eye is arrested by new
features, new combinations of the graceful and picturesque. A saunter
along the river, where it forms a crescent between the abbey and the
village, will gratify every lover of the picturesque, and bring before
him the beauty and freshness of nature, in striking contrast with the
sublime but faded monuments of art. The best hour for enjoying this
scene is about sunset; and, on returning, the tourist may ascend the
Chapel Hill, and thence, in a more extended panorama, look down upon
what would have furnished a rich subject for the pencil of Claude. The
river, with its fantastic windings, here clamorous among shallows--there
gliding away with the rapid but inaudible march of time--masses of brown
rock overhanging the pass, gleaming in confused blocks through the trees
that clamber up their
[Illustration: _The Vale of Tintern._