“--------------------------------------- Claustrum
MARTYRIS ALBANI, sit tibi tuta quies!
Hic locus ætatis nostræ primordia novit,
Annos felices lætitiæque dies!
Hic locus ingenuis pueriles imbuit annos
Artibus, et nostræ laudis origo fuit.
Hic locus insignes magnosque creavit alumnos.
Felix eximio martyre, gente, situ,
Militat hic Christo, noctuque dieque labori
Indulget sancto religiosa cohors.”
The profound interest connected with the Abbey of St. Albans, has been
much increased of late years by the prospect still held out of seeing
its magnificent church converted into a cathedral. That this may be
speedily and permanently effected, is a hope which every admirer of
ecclesiastical architecture, every lover of that soil which has been
hallowed by the blood of martyrs, will rejoice to see realised.
[Illustration]
In the short historical introduction to this subject, we shall adopt the
testimony of the old chroniclers, whose names, with other authorities,
will be found, chronologically arranged at the end of the chapter, so
that the reader may know where to apply for such copious details as
cannot be comprised within the limits of the present work. This plan
will be carefully adhered to in the successive portions of the work, so
that the inconvenience arising from a multiplicity of notes, and the
frequent repetition of names and authorities, in the same chapter, may
be effectually obviated.
That the first bishops in England were of Roman origin is obvious from
their very names: and that wherever St. Augustin appointed a bishop he
founded a monastery, is a fact established by the history of every
cathedral. But in cases where the metropolitan did not found a monastery
and appoint a bishop at the same time, it appears that a monastic
establishment was formed shortly after by the newly appointed bishop. By
the time of Offa, king of the Mercians, about twenty great monasteries
had been established in England, with nearly the same number of
episcopal sees. Of the latter, several were not conjoined with the
former; the general design of both being to civilise and instruct
mankind by inculcating the doctrines of divine truth and revelation; but
in ways that differed much in after ages, not only between the several
bodies, but also between the superiors to whom they respectively
adhered. Offa’s zeal prompted him to do, what many of his crowned
predecessors had done before him; and feeling perhaps the acute pangs of
a guilty conscience, in reference to the death of Ethelbert, he sought
peace of mind and reconciliation with Heaven, by erecting some splendid
monument of his penitence and remorse. It were needless to remind the
reader how many of the great ecclesiastical establishments of
Christendom have originated from similar causes: how many propitiatory
Altars have been raised, only to attest those “compunctious visitings”
by which their noble or royal founders were driven from the glittering
pageants of state, to seek hope and refuge in the sanctuaries of
religion--in the lowly cell
[Illustration]
of the anchorite. What made monastic endowments part of a dying man’s
charity, was the special provision it secured for his safety and welfare
in another world. Here was an institution in which the “rich profligate”
was deeply interested; in which, after he himself had long passed away,
he might still benefit by the prayers and devotion of those who
ministered within its walls, and blessed the munificence of the founder.
Such were the hopes, such was the resolution, of King Offa, when
intending to finish a life of great earthly glory, sullied with many
crimes, he bethought him of building “a house where God might dwell.”
With regard to the precise site of the Abbey in contemplation, and the
name of the saint under whose tutelar guardianship it was to be placed,
Offa seems to have been undecided; till a miraculous intelligence, says
the legend, removed his perplexities and settled the question, to the
entire satisfaction of himself and his prelates. “Being then at Winslow,
the king prayed earnestly to God that, as he had often delivered him
from the dangers and assaults of his enemies, and from the snares and
subtilty of his wife, so he would vouchsafe him further light and
information to enable him to complete his vow of founding a Holy
Monastery, in token of his devotion. He entreated his friends, at the
same time, that they would unanimously and devoutly beseech God to
enable him to carry his intentions into effect. Hereupon all retired
into the adjoining chapel to pray; and having prayed longer than
ordinary, and offered up the same petition as the king had dictated, a
sudden light from heaven filled the place with more than meridian
splendour. This was viewed as the acceptable token of God’s favour, and
the king determined to grant the royal manor of Winslow for the new
foundation. But by another vision this pious intention was defeated. At
the dead of night, while the king lay at Bath, shortly after, he was
graciously accosted by an angel, as he thought, who admonished him to
raise out of the earth the first British martyr, Albanus, and place his
remains in a shrine with more becoming ornament. Hereupon, attended by
the prelates of his court and a multitude of followers, King Offa set
out in quest of those sacred relics, which had now been entombed upwards
of five hundred years. Journeying onward, divine assistance was once
more interposed in favour of the king: a light, resembling a mighty
torch, was seen blazing over the very city of the saint--yet the
difficulty was where to find his grave. But they were not kept in long
or painful suspense: a ray of fire stood over the place, like the star
that conducted the Magi to the Holy Child Jesus at Bethlehem. The ground
was opened; and, in the presence of Offa, the body of the English martyr
was found, together with some relics, in a wooden coffin, at the very
spot where he had suffered five hundred and seven years before. Great
was the joy of the king and his faithful subjects at this auspicious
event. A circlet of gold was placed round the martyr’s skull, with an
inscription to signify his name and title: a shrine was prepared for its
reception, richly adorned with gold and silver, till a more noble and
befitting repository could be designed and finished.” This is said to
have happened in the year seven hundred and ninety-one.
Assembling the prelates and officers of state in full council, Offa laid
before them his plan for the foundation and endowment of a new temple
for the service of God. His zeal and devotion were highly applauded by
the court; and, with their consent and approbation, Offa prepared to set
out on a pilgrimage to Rome, there to obtain advice and sanction from
the great head of the church. This pilgrimage to the holy city forms no
unimportant event in English history, for, in return for the immunities
and privileges granted by the sacred conclave to the new abbey, Offa
engaged to levy an annual tax upon his subjects, amounting to one penny
in every thirty, as a tribute to the see of Rome--a tribute which was
long rigorously exacted and faithfully paid by Offa and his successors
under the name of Peter’s-pence. On his return from Rome, Offa took
measures for carrying the grand object of his life into execution. He
made ample provision for its maintenance; special revenues were set
apart for the exercise of hospitality; so that the devout pilgrim, the
wayfaring stranger, the poor and the sick, might be indiscriminately
entertained at its gate, and the new abbey become the foster-mother of
active charity and Christian benevolence.
It is not our intention to enter into the question which has been
started by very learned antiquarians, as to the verity of the above; nor
would we remove one stone from the temple which tradition and history
have alike ascribed to Offa--
“Offa, who deem’d that abbey which he built
Might well atone the Mercian monarch’s guilt,
To saintly odour deadly sins convert,
And lay the accusing ghost of Ethelbert.”
The building, now finished under his immediate inspection, was opened
for the reception of a hundred monks of the Benedictine order--men who
had been selected with great care from the celebrated monasteries of the
day. The royal founder, however, was not destined to find a tomb where
he had found so much pious and soothing occupation. He was buried in a
chapel near the river Ouse, of which not a vestige is left--the water,
it is said, having overflowed its banks, and completely destroyed the
chapel and its saintly deposit. The abbot, we are informed, was anxious
to have secured the dust of the founder as a precious treasure for the
monastery; but Offa’s son and successor having refused compliance, the
worthy abbot took it so much to heart that he did not long survive the
royal benefactor.
Viewed externally, this Abbey is a grand and imposing feature in the
landscape, and never fails to inspire the stranger with feelings of awe
and admiration. Its lofty square tower meets the eye of the traveller in
every approach to the ancient Verulam, and conjures up a host of names
and events that have made a figure in history during the long lapse of
centuries--
“Since first along the Ver’s embattled banks
The Roman leader stretch’d his martial ranks,
Till Henry’s mandate struck the fated shrine
And sadly closed St. Alban’s mitred line.”
But without occupying further space in the dry routine of description,
we enter at once into the sanctuary, and notice such of the noble and
majestic features as may best convey to the reader some adequate idea
of its internal magnificence. Although familiarly acquainted with the
finest specimens of monastic buildings on the Continent, yet so much
were we struck on our last visit to this noble pile in January, that it
seemed to take precedence of all that we could remember; and, as we
passed before its shrines, through its
[Illustration]
pillared avenues, paused in its choir, and stood in awe in front of its
great altar, compelled us to ejaculate--“We have seen nothing finer than
this.”
“Bold is the <g>Abbey’s</g> front, and plain;
The walls no shrined saint sustain,
Nor tower nor airy pinnet crown;
But broadly sweeps the Norman arch
Where once in brighten’d shadow shone
King Offa, on his pilgrim-march,
And proudly points the moulder’d stone
Of the high vaulted porch beneath,
Where Norman beauty hangs a wreath
Of simple elegance and grace;
Where slender columns guard the space
On every side, in cluster’d row,
The triple arch through arch disclose,
And lightly o’er the vaulting throw
The thwart-rib and the fretted rose.”
The fresh florid painting of the chestnut roof, upon which not a brush
has been employed for three centuries or more, is very remarkable, and
shows that the secret of mixing colours for the eye of posterity has not
descended to the present day. In the several compartments of this roof,
as faintly seen
[Sidenote: <g>i h s</g>