<g>ARUNDEL CASTLE.</g>--<g>King Alfred’s Will.</g>--The portion from which the text is
a translation is thus given in ASSER. DE ÆLFREDI REB. GESTIS, fol. 23:
“Athelmo, _vero fratris mei filio_, do villā de Edingburn et de Cumptune
et de ERUNDELE, et de Bedingn et de Dinghā, et de Burnham, et de
Thumesfelde, et de Aschōgum.”--“Forty-nine Castles are enumerated in
Domesday Book; that of Arundel only as existing in the time of Edward
the Confessor. Many single towers were built during the Heptarchy and by
King Alfred. The Castle of Arundel dates perhaps its true origin from
that monarch.”--Dallaway.
“Fama verò _tota est_ ex castro quod Saxonico imperio floruit; et statim
ab ingressu Normanorum. Rogerum de Montgomericum restaurasse legimus,
qui inde Arundeliæ Comes dictus.”--Camden.
<g>Harold, Earl of Sussex</g>, A.D. 1053.--Ingulph, relating the death of Earl
Godwyn at the royal table, adds “Comitatusque Westsaxoniæ Haroldo filio
suo datus est”--fol. 510, 540. Hardyng, page 229, after his manner
relates the same in two stanzas:--“And as Kynge Edwarde,” &c.
<g>Roger Montgomery</g>, pp. 8, 9.--“Prædictus autem Rogerus de Montegummerici
bello Anglico interfuit, et a Willelmo rege Anglorum Comitatus Arundelli
et Sálopesberiæ dono áccepit.”--Wilhelm. Gemitens. De Ducib. Normannis.
fol. 686. “Rex Gulielmus Rogerio de Monte Gomerici in primis <g>Castrum</g>
Arundellum et urbem Cicestram dedit; cui posteà comitatum Scrobesburiæ
quæ in monte super Sabrinam fluvium sita est, adjecit. Hic sapiens et
moderatus et amator æquitatis fuit, et comitatem sapientum et modestorum
dilexit. Tres sapientes clericos Godebaldum, Odolerium, ac Herbertum,
diutiùs secum habuit; quorum consilium utiliter paruit,”--p. 254.
“Warino autem calvo, carpore parvo, sed animo magno, Aimeriam neptem
suam et Præsidatum Scrobesburiæ dedit: per quem Guallos aliosq’ sibi
adversantes fortiter oppressit, et provinciam totam sibi commissam
pacificavit. Guillelmum cognomento Pantalfum, et Picoldum atque Corbatum
filiosque ejus, Rogerium et Rodbertum, aliosque fideles fortissimosq’
viros comitatui suo præfecit; quorum sensu et viribus benigniter ajutus
inter maximos optimates maximè effloruit.”--Order. Vital. de Guliel.
primo.
His pious retirement from the world and death in the cloisters is thus
related by Orderic--the authority referred to in the text:--“Having by
the hands of Reginald, then Prior of Shrewsbury, obtained from the house
of Cluni, in Burgundy, the coat of St. Hugh, some time abbot there, for
himself to put on, he caused himself to be shorne a monk in the said
Abbey of Shrewsbury, with the consent of his wife; where it is observed
of him, that three days before his death he wholly applied himself to
divine conference and devout prayers with the rest of that convent; and
died on the sixth of the Kalends of August, 1094.”--Baron. i. 28.
“Monachile scema devotus suscepit ... et tribus diebus in colloquiis
divinis et oratione inter servos Dei permaneit. Tandem Kal. Augusti
mortuus est.”--Ord. Vital. p. 708.
<g>Hugh Montgomery</g>, page 9.--The death of this nobleman, as briefly
mentioned in the text, is taken from Giraldus Cambrensis, Itin. Camb. p.
194, and thus rendered by Dugdale, Bar. i. 28. “There is in this island
of Anglesey a church of St. Teuredaucus the Confessor, in which Earl
Hugh, after he had subjugated these parts of Wales, having kennelled his
dogs all night, found them every one mad next morning; and that he
himself died a miserable death within a month thereafter. For hearing
that certain pirates were come to the haven of this island in
long-boats, and making haste to oppose their landing, the principal
commander of them, called Magnus, standing at the fore end of the boat
with a bow in his hand, let flie an arrow at our earl, then armed
_cap-à-pié_, so that no entrance could be made except through his
helmet, at the sights for his eyes; but so fatally was the arrow
directed, that it passed through his head-piece upon his right eye, and
piercing his brain, caused him to fall (from his horse) headlong into
the sea.” Girald. Cambrensis erroneously attributes it to Hugh, Earl of
Chester, but by all other authorities it is related as having occurred
to Hugh Montgomery. Polyd. Virgil. fol. 173, says--“Hugo Comes Salopiæ
obvium factus ex ictu sagittæ periit.” After which, “within a few days,
his body being earned to Shrewsbury, was there buried in the cloister of
the abbey, with great lamentation.”--Dugd. i. 28. Roger Hovedon, fol.
268, mentions his death in nearly the same terms: “Sagitta
percussus--interijt.” Also, Speed, fol. 445.
<g>Mabel</g>, Roger Montgomery’s first wife, was the only daughter, and
heiress, of William Talvace--grandson of Ivo de Belesmo--a person of
great power and note in the time of Richard, Duke of Normandy, with whom
he had a large inheritance. But this lady, says the monk of Utica,
“caused his abbey to be greatly burthened with quartering of soldiers;
for which, and other oppressions exercised towards the nobility, she was
murdered in her bed.” By this wife Earl Roger had issue, as briefly
mentioned in the text, five sons and four daughters:--Robert de Belesme;
Hugh de Montgomery; Roger of Poictou; Philip, a priest; Arnulf, a
soldier of fortune, Lord of Dyvet, now Pembrokeshire, who, like his
father, was liberal in his benefactions to the church. Of his four
daughters, Emma, the eldest, was Abbess of Almanisca; Maud was the wife
of Robert de Moreton, half brother to the Conqueror; Mabel married Hugh
de Novo Castello; and Sibyl became the wife of Robert Fitz-Hamon, whose
name and family have been noticed in our account of Tewkesbury. For his
second wife, Earl Roger espoused Adeliza, daughter of Ebrard de Pusaic,
and by her had issue one son, called after his grandfather Ebrard, who,
entering on a course of ecclesiastical discipline, became one of the
chaplains to King Henry I. Of the Countess <g>Adeliza</g>, a monastic writer
records the following anecdote:--Being on her first passage by sea, from
Normandy to England, there happened so great a storm that the mariners
were in imminent danger of shipwreck. A priest, who was the countess’s
private chaplain or confessor, and attended her in the voyage, being
much wearied with anxiety and watching, fell fast asleep. And lo! while
he slept, there stood before him a comely matron, who addressed him in
these words: ‘If thy lady would be preserved from the danger of this
dreadful tempest, let her vow to God forthwith, that she will build a
church to the honour of Sainte Marie Magdalene in the place where she
shall first meet the Earl Roger, her husband, in England; and especially
where an old hollow oak groweth near a hogstye.’ Now all this, when he
woke up, the priest told to his Mistress, who, gladly accepting
deliverance on such terms, made her vow accordingly; whereupon the winds
were hushed, the sea became tranquil, and she came safely to land with
all her attendants. At length, after several days’ journey to meet her
husband, she found him near Quadford, hunting in the out-forest, at a
certain place where a hollow oak tree, like that described in the
vision, was then growing. Relating to him without loss of time what had
happened, she so prevailed upon him that he agreed to fulfil her vows,
and accordingly built and amply endowed a church in honour of Sainte
Marie Magdalene, and gave it to his collegiate chapel in the Castle of
Bridgenorth, in Shropshire, one of his many lordships. Like the monk who
told his dream to Robert Fitz-Hamon (see Tewkesbury), Adeliza’s
confessor--“monachiliter somniavit”--dreamed to good purpose. It is
truly remarkable, that, so far as the interests of their order were
concerned, these worthy monks always slept with their eyes open--
“By day with praying, plotting, scheming;
By night o’er beads and reliques dreaming;
They still contrived to lay their hand
Upon the fatness of the land.”
The <g>Fitzalan Family</g>, Text, p. 10.--The account of this Norman family is
taken from that of Dugdale and the monastic writers, on whose report the
genealogy is founded, namely, Ord. Vital., Matth. Paris, &c.; and the
reader who may be curious in such matters, will find the whole subject
fully detailed in the Baronage, i. p. 314, and Monasticon, vol. i., the
sources from which the materials of all the later accounts which we have
seen have been taken.
As progenitors of the royal family of Stuart, the claim is supported by
Chalmers in his _Caledonia_, vol. i. p. 572, 573. Alan, the son of
Flaald, a Norman, acquired the manor of Oswestrie, in Shropshire, soon
after the Conquest--married the daughter of Warine, the famous sheriff
of Shropshire--had two sons, Walter and William. Influenced by the Earl
of Gloucester, the powerful partizan of his sister the Empress Maud,
William seized Shrewsbury in September 1139, and held it for her
interest--attended her at Winchester in 1141--adhered to her interests,
and was rewarded by her son Henry II. By the marriage of his son with
Isabel-de-Say, Clun in Shropshire was added to the Fitzalan estates.
Oswestrie, or Oswaldestre, was the original seat of Alan on the Welsh
border. Lord Hailes acknowledges that Walter (the son of Alan), who
flourished under David I. and his successor Malcolm IV., was indeed the
Stewart of Scotland. John Fitzalan, Lord of Clun and Oswestrie, by
marrying Isabella, second sister of William de Albini, became Earl of
<g>Arundel</g>.
<g>De Albini</g>, p. 9.--William-with-the-Strong-hand.--Dugdale gives the
genealogical history of this family in the work above mentioned, vol. i.
p. 118. The following anecdote, highly characteristic of the age in
which he lived, is narrated with amusing gravity by our old Norroy
king-at-arms, as one of the credible adventures in the life of this
hero:--“I now come,” says he, “to William, who was called
WILLIAM-WITH-THE-STRONG-HAND, in regard that, among his valiant
exploits, he slew a fierce lion, the occasion of which was thus: It
happened that the Queen of <g>France</g>, being then a widow, and a very
beautiful woman, became much in love with a knight of that country, who
was a comely person, and in the flower of his youth: and because she
thought that no man excelled him in valour, she caused a <g>Tournament</g> to
be proclaimed throughout her dominions, promising to reward those who
should
[Illustration]
exercise themselves therein, according to their respective merits; and
concluding, that if the person whom she so affected should act his part
better than others in these military exercises, she might marry him
without any dishonour to herself. Hereupon divers gallant men from
foreign parts hasting into <g>Paris</g>, amongst others came this our William
de <g>Albini</g>, bravely accoutred; and in the tournament excelled all others,
overcoming many, and wounding one mortally with his lance, which being
observed by the <g>Queen</g>, she became exceedingly enamoured of him, and
forthwith invited him to a costly banquet; and afterwards bestowing upon
him certain jewels, offered him marriage. But, having plighted his troth
to the Queen of <g>England</g>, then (also) a widow, he refused her; whereat
she grew so much discontented, that she consulted with her maids how to
take away his life; and in pursuance of that design enticed him into a
garden, where there was a secret cave, and in it a fierce lion, into
which she descended by divers steps under colour of showing him the
beast. And when she told him of his fierceness, Albini merely answered,
‘that it was a womanish, and not a manly quality, to be afraid thereof.’
But having him there, by the advantage of a folding door, she thrust him
into the lion’s den. Being therefore in this danger, he folded his
mantle about his arm, and putting his hand into the mouth of the beast,
pulled out his tongue by the root; which done, he followed the <g>Queen</g> to
her palace, and gave it to one of her maids to present to her.”--On his
return to England, the lion was given him for his arms, and he was
thenceforward distinguished as “William-with-the-Strong-hand.”
Commenting on this marvellous portion of Albini’s adventures, Vincent
expresses regret that the hero did not, when once in, thrust his hand
further, so as to catch the lion by the tail and “turn him inside
out”--an operation which would certainly have been an improvement on the
other, as well as an agreeable addition to the family arms. This valiant
act was afterwards, it appears, revived by a royal crusader, and with
still better success; for _he_ extracted the ‘lion’s heart at a grasp!’
Text, p. 9. “Illa (Adeliza), rege defuncto, Gulielmum de Albineto in
maritum assumpsit, qui cū Matildi Augustæ contrà Stephanum regem
studeret, et hoc castrum contrà illum propugnaret, in navatæ operæ
præmium Arundeliæ Comitis titulum, à Matilde Augusta Anglorum domina
(hoc enim usa est titulo) accepit: cùmq’ post _quartum_ ab eo comitem,
proles ejus mascula deficeret, Richardum Fitzalanum jure uxoris in eum
honorem evexit Rex Edwardus Secundus,” &c. With respect to the _fourth_
Earl, Brooke, in his “discoveries,” has stated objections, p. 32, 33.
With respect to the part taken by Albini subsequent to his marriage with
Adeliza, queen dowager, on the part of the Empress Maud, her son, and
King Stephen at Wallingford--as well as the embassy in which he took the
lead--as mentioned p. 42, Dugdale has condensed the particulars under
the head of “Will. de Albini Pincerna,” i. 118, as well as all others of
any importance respecting the descent of the Castle of Arundel through
the families of the Fitzalans and Howards. Albini is thus complimented
in the old Rhyming Chronicle; and the orthography shows the
pronunciation in that day:--
¶ Wyllyam, the Earle of Arundell that hyght,
_Awbeny_ (Albini) by his surname full well then knowe,
At Wimondham, in Northfolke buryed ryght,
Father was of Philyp full yonge unknowe
[That full courteous was both to hye and lowe]
That after him was Earle of Arundell,
As Chronycles wryten can clerely tell. P. 273.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
<g>Robert de Belesmo</g>, Text p. 9.--“Supradictus Comes Robertus de Belesmo
qui comitatum etiam Pontinensis pagi rexit eo tempore, ac in Normannia
Castella possedit quam plurima; civitatem Scrobesbiriam et castellum in
ea situm, castella quoque <g>Arundel</g> et Tikehil, alimentis machinis, armis,
militibus, et peditibus contra regem Henricum fortiter munivit. Muros
quoque, ac tunes castellorum, videlicet Brige et Carracoue, die noctuque
operando perficere modis omnibus festinavit.... At Rex sine delatione
Castellum ejus <g>Arundel</g> primitùs obsedit, et castellis ante illud
firmatis, recessit; deinde Robertus Lindicolniæ civitatis episcopum cum
parte exercitûs Tykehil obsidere jussit. Illè autem Brige cum exercitu
penè totius Angliæ obsedit, machinas quoque ibi construere et castellum
firmare præcepit. Interim Walanos, &c. Infra igitur triginta dies
civitate et omnibus castellis redditis inimicum suum <g>Robertum</g> superavit
etignominiosè de Anglia expulit.”--Hov. Annal. Hen. pr. 269.
Text p. 39.--“Junior Wilhelmus anno decimo regni sui cū Normanniam, quam
à Roberto fratre suo ad Jerusalem profecto, in vadimonium acceperat pro
libitu suo disposuisset, redijt ad Vigiliam Paschæ in Angliam, appulit
apud <g>Arundel</g>.”--Henric. Huntingd. lib. vi. p. 216.
<g>King Stephen</g>, p. 38.--“Statim namque filia regis Henrici, quæ fuerat
Romanorum imperatrix, cui Anglia juramento fuerat addicata, venit in
Angliam; quam cum Rex Stephanus obsedisset apud <g>Arundel</g>, vel perfida
credens consilia, vel quia castrum videbat inexpugnabile, ire permisit
ad Bristowe.”--Hoved. Steph. Rex. fol. 278.
<g>The Empress Maud</g>, p. 41.--Holinshed, on the authority of Polydor,
relates a “scandalous story” affecting the character of this lady,
which, if true, robs William de Albini of the credit so generally given
him, for having been the pacificator between King Stephen and young Duke
Henry. It is very quaintly told by the old chronicler, p. 63, and by
Polydor. Verg. lib. xij.:--“Sunt qui tradunt aliam fuisse causam qua
Stephanus flexus sit ad pacem, qui referūt Mathildē amicā potius q’
inimicā Stephani fuisse, et eam, cum videret rem inter ipsum Stephanū et
Henricū filiū eò deductā, ut armis finienda esset, clàm ad Stephanū
adivisse atq’ sic eum allocutā: Ecquid, impie ac tui generis immemor,
facere tētas? Decet ne patrem perdere filiū? an fas est ut filius patrem
occidat? Amabo te, des locum iræ, projiciasq’ tela manu, nā Henricū, uti
probè scis, ex te enixa sum! Et his dictis, ordine cōmemorasse quem
admodum paullo antèq’ Gaufredo nuberet, ab eo compressa fuisset; ac ijs
verbis Stephanū motū pacē fecisse.”
[Illustration]
<g>Syr Bevis</g>, Text 37.--For the groundwork of the following legend, as
connecting Sir Bevis with Arundel Castle, we are indebted to a lady
resident near the spot. Sir Bevis, as noticed, p. 326, is familiar to
every reader of romance; and the traditional history of his prowess has
often been heard at the baron’s hearth, when the spirit of chivalry was
fanned by the approving smile of beauty, and the sound of the harp
sweetened the intervals of repose.
“O, who has not heard of <g>Bevis</g> the Bold?
Whose sword was the theme of harpers old;
Compared with which, like a willow-wand
Was the sword that gleamed in Paynim hand.
And oft through the Pagan’s steely array,
For the Cross of St. George, it had cleft his way.
Syr Bevis was stout of heart and limb:
And his meekest look was so stern and grim,
That even his squire grew deadly pale,
As he buckled for battle Syr Bevis’ mail!
And wherever for knightly feats he went,
Equipped for battle or tournament,
His very shadow refused to stay,
And shrunk like a craven thing away.
So fierce and fell was the hero’s stroke,
’Twould have cleft at a blow the forest oak;
While around him heads of Saracen lay,
Paving with helms Syr Bevis’ way.
But at length, in old Arundel’s Castellan,
When chilly and slow the life-blood ran,
And he bask’d his old frame in its evening sun,
And dreamed o’er the battles his youth had won;
As musing he sat on yon battled keep,
O’erlooking the forest and distant deep--
Come, bring me,’ quoth he, ‘my trusty sword!’
And swiftly his squire obeyed the word.
Then swift from his seat Syr Bevis sprung,
And thrice round his head the blade he swung--
‘Now mark me well,’ said the chief, ‘and obey
The command I leave, and the word I say:
Where ye find again this trusty glaive,
There hollow the ground for Bevis’s grave!
For my eyes wax dim and my blood runs cold,
And my heart of life hath lost its hold.’
He said: and fleet from his hand he threw
The deadly weapon so tried and true;
And away--as impelled by some nameless charm--
Like a shaft that’s shot by a wizard’s arm;
Away the falchion glanced, and fell
In the depth of Pugh’s deserted dell.--
That night there was mass for a parted soul;
At St. Martin’s gate there was Christian dole;
Where priest and vassal the dirge began,
For <g>Syr Bevis</g> the warlike Castellan!
Then they searched the shadowy forest round,
And they hollowed a grave where the sword was found;
And there they have laid each stiffened limb
Of the brave Syr Bevis, the wise and grim.
Where at noon the trooping deer convene,
Where at night the timid hare is seen,
Where the monk of St. Lazarus counts his beads,
They have laid him down in his warrior’s weeds;
They have monks to chant, and bells to toll--
And all for the rest of Syr Bevis’ soul.
Now ye who visit that haunted dell,
To count your beads in St. James’s cell,
Or haply to slay Montgomery’s deer,
Tread light on the ashes that slumber here.”
The anecdote related at p. 40 of the text, is thus told in the Latin of
Father Matthew of St. Albans, p. 853:--“A.D. 1252. Tempore quoque sub
eodem domino rege adhuc moram Londini continuante, venit ad eum in
cameram suam Isabella, comitissa Harundelliæ, relicta Comitis
Harundelliæ H. et ejusdem regis cognata; ut pro jure suo de quadam
custodia ipsam contingente verba faceret sibi profectura. Rex autem
vultum ei primò protendens serenum, posteà cum verbis asperioribus
objurgans, nihil quod postulavit comitissa favorabiliter exaudivit;
vindicavit enim sibi rex custodiam cujusdam custodiæ ratione particulæ,
ipsum regem contingentis. Unde ipsa comitissa, licèt mulier, non tamen
muliebriter respondit imperterrita. ‘O domine rex quare avertis faciem
tuam à justitia? Jam in curia tua quod justum est nequit impetrari,
medius inter Dominum et nos constitueris; sed nec teipsum nec nos sanè
regis, nec ecclesiam veritus es multipliciter perturbare; quod non
tantum in presentiarum, sed multoties est experta. Nobiles insuper regni
modis variis vexare non formidas vel erubescis.’ Quod cùm audîsset rex,
corrugans nares et subsannans, voce dixit elevata: ‘Quid est hoc, ô
domina Comitissa? Confeceruntne Magnates Angliæ Chartam, et pepigerunt
tecum, ut fieres eorum quia eloquens es, advocata, et prolocutrix?’ Ad
quod comitissa, licèt juvencula non tamen juveniliter respondit:
‘Nequaquam mihi, domine, regni tui primates chartam confecerunt; sed tu
chartam, quam confecit pater tuus, et tu eam concessisti, et jurasti
observare fideliter et irrefragabiliter, et multoties ut eam observares
à fidelibus tuis pecuniam de libertatibus observandis eorum extorsisti,
sed tu semper eis impudens transgressor extitisti. Unde fidei læsor
enormis, et sacramenti transgressor manifestus esse comprobaris. Ubi
libertates Angliæ toties in scripta redactæ, toties concessæ totiesque
redemptæ? Ego igitur, licèt mulier, omnesque indigenæ et naturales ac
fideles tui appellamus contrà te antè tribunal tremendi Judicis: et
erunt nobis testes cœlum et terra, quoniam iniquè nimis nos tractus
insontes, et nos Deus ultionum dominus ulciscatur.’ Ad hæc Rex siluit
confusus, quia dictante propria conscientia cognovit, quoniam a tramite
veritatis non exorbitavit Comitissa, et ait: ‘Nonne postulas gratiam eò
quòd mihi cognata sis?’ At illa: ‘Ex quo mihi quod jus expostulat
denegâsti, quo modo spem concipiam, ut mihi gratiam facias postulanti?
Sed et contra illos ante faciem Christi appello, qui te fascinantes et
infatuantes consiliarii tui sunt, et te à via veritatis avertunt, suis
tantummodo commodis inhiantes.’ His igitur auditis Rex siluit, satis
civiliter redargutus.”
<g>Knighthood</g>, p. 45.--The grand festival mentioned in the text is thus
described by Matthew of Westminster; and in Anstis’ Order of the Bath,
p. 12:--“The king, to render his expedition into Scotland more splendid
and numerous, caused proclamation to be made throughout England, whereby
all persons entitled or compellable to take knighthood by right of
hereditary succession, that is, by lands descended to them, or who had
estates sufficient to support that degree, were required, on the Feast
of Pentecost, to attend at Westminster, where every one of them should
receive severally out of the king’s wardrobe, at the king’s expense, all
things belonging to the habit of knighthood, except what related to the
furniture of his horse (or armour for such knight). At the time and
place appointed, there was an appearance of three hundred young
gentlemen, sons of earls, barons, and knights, to whom was distributed
in ample measure, according to their different qualities, purple, fine
linen, furs, and mantles embroidered with gold; and because the Royal
Palace, though spacious, was not of extent sufficient to accommodate so
great a number, they repaired to the <g>New Temple</g>, where they erected
tents and pavilions, having first cut down the trees in the orchard, and
levelled the walls of it, that they might separately and more
commodiously dress themselves in their splendid habits. That night as
many of them performed their vigils in the Temple Church as the place
would well contain; but the Prince of Wales, by command of the king his
father, kept his vigils in the Church of Westminster, with some other
persons of the first dignity. There the noise of trumpets and pipes was
so great, and the acclamations of the people so loud and extended, that
the voices in one choir could not be distinctly heard in another. On the
day following, the king invested his son with the military belt, and
consigned to him the Duchy of Aquitain. The prince, being knighted, went
to the Church of Westminster, that he might confer the like military
honour on his companions; there the press, occasioned by a promiscuous
concourse of people, was so great before the high altar, that two
knights were stifled, and several fainted away; for every knight had at
least three other knights to conduct and support him. But the prince was
obliged, by reason of the tumultuous crowd, to invest his companions
upon the high altar, having, by his guards, made way for them to pass
through the people. Then were brought and presented two <g>Swans</g>,
introduced with much pomp, and covered with golden nets, adorned and
embossed with golden studs, a solemnity highly grateful to the
spectators. The king offered a vow to God, upon the presentation of the
<g>Swans</g>, that he would make a descent upon Scotland, with a design,
whether he should live or die in the attempt, to revenge the death of
John Comyn, and the violated faith of the Scots, &c.
“In the celebration of this great festival there is a particular
article, which is thus explained:--A vow, made upon the exhibition
before-mentioned of two swans, in conformity to an usage continued for
some ages; according to which, when any hostile expedition was intended,
the commanding prince formally and solemnly bound himself to execute it,
upon the oblation of some bird, as a visible test or signal of such
engagement.”
Page 62.--In the letter here quoted--supposed to have been the last ever
written by Norfolk, on the eve of Bosworth Field--the duke directs his
well-beloved friend, John Paston, to bring with him such company of tall
men, and “ordain them jackets of my livery.” The Duke of Norfolk’s
livery, on the authority of Fenn, was particoloured of blue and tawny--a
yellowish dusky brown orange colour--having the left side of the former
of these, and the right side of the latter, and both dark shades of
their respective colours.
[Illustration]
[Illustration] <g>ST. ALBAN’S ABBEY.--Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester.</g>--The
anecdote of this worthy, referred to in the text, is thus told by
Grafton in his Chronicles, ii. 630:--“This Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester,
descending of the blood royal, was not only noble and valyant in all his
actes and doings, but sage, politique, and notably well learned in the
ciuile law. And among his other worthy prayses, this followyng is not to
be forgotten, which most liuely and plainley declareth him to be both
prudent and wyse, and to his great laude and prayse is written, and set
forth by Sir Thomas Moore, knight, in this wyse following:--‘In the
reign of King Henry the Sixt,’ saith he, ‘there came to the towne of
<g>Sainct Albons</g> a certaine beggar with his wyfe, and there was walkeng
about the towne begging fiue or six dayes, before the kinges comming
thether; sayeing that he was born blinde, and never sawe in all his
lyfe, and was warned in hys dreme that he should come out of Berwike,
where he saide that he had ever dwelled, to seke Sainct Albon, and that
he had been at hys Shrine, and was not holpen, and therefore he would go
seeke him at some other place: for he had heard some saye sinse he came,
that Sainct Albons body should be at Colyn (Cologne), and indede such a
contention hath there bene. But of a truth, as I am certainly informed,’
sayth Sir Thomas Moore, ‘he lyeth here at Sainct Albons, saveing some
reliques of him which theye there shewe shryned. But to tell you foorth,
when the kinge was come, and the towne full of people, sodainely this
blinde man at Sainct Albones Shryne had his sight, and the same was
solemnly rong for a miracle, and _Te Deum_ songen; so that nothing was
talked of in all the towne but this _miracle_. So happened it then, that
Duke Humffrey of Gloucester, a man no lesse wise than also well learned,
having great joy to see suche a miracle, called the poore man unto him,
and first shewyng himself joyous of God’s glorie, so shewed in the
getting of hys sight, and exhorting him to meeknesse, and to no
ascrybing of any part of the worship to himselfe, not to be prowde of
the people’s prayse, which would call hym a good and a godlie man
thereby. At last he looked well upon his eyen, and asked whether he
could ever see any thing at al, in all hys lyfe before. And when as well
hys wyfe as himselfe affirmed fastlie ‘No!’ then he looked advisedly
upon hys eyen agayne, and sayde, ‘I beleue you very well, for methinketh
that ye cannot see well yet.’ ‘O yes, Sir,’ quoth he, ‘I thanke God and
his holy martir, I can see now as well as any man.’ ‘You can,’ quod the
duke; ‘what colour is my gowne?’ Then anon the beggar tolde hym. ‘What
colour,’ quod he, ‘is this man’s gowne?’ He told him also, without anye
stayeng or stombling, and told the names of all the colours that coulde
be shewed. And when the duke sawe that he bade him, walke faytoure, that
is to say, vagabond; and made him to be set
[Illustration]
openly in the stockes: for though he could have seen sodaynely, by
miracle, the difference betwene dyvers coloures, yet could he not by
sight so sodainely tell the names of all these coloures, except he had
knowne them before, no more than he coulde name all the men whom he
should sodainely see.’ Thus far Maystir Moore.” Reference has been
already made to the play in which Shakspeare has made use of the above,
as the ground of a very amusing dialogue, into which he has infused much
additional humour; and thus concludes:--
“_Glo._ Then, Saunder, sit thou there, the lying’st knave
In Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind,
Thou might’st as well have known our names, as thus
To name the several colours we do wear.
Sight may distinguish colours; but suddenly
To nominate them all’s impossible.
My lords, Saint Alban here hath done a miracle;
And would ye not think that cunning to be great
That could restore this cripple to his legs again,” &c.
Gloucester accordingly advises the application of the whip, and finds
that the cripple is suddenly transformed into an athlete, with the full
and free use of his limbs. Such were the devotees usually met with in
places of pilgrimage--and such the miracles that obtained ready belief
in the vulgar mind.
The Priory of Tinmouth in Northumberland was a cell of St. Alban’s
Abbey. “One Simon of Tinmouth claimed a right to two corodies, or the
maintenance of two persons in the priory; but which the prior and monks
denied. This cause was brought before the Abbot of St. Alban’s and his
Court-baron, who appointed it to be tried by combat on a certain day
before him and his barons. Ralf Gubion, prior of Tinmouth, appeared at
the time and place appointed, attended by his champion, one William
Pegun, a man of gigantic stature. The combat was fought. Pegun was
defeated, and the prior lost his cause; at which he was so much
chagrined, that he immediately resigned his office.” This judicial
combat is the more remarkable, that it was fought in the court of a
spiritual baron, and that one of the parties was a priest.
[Illustration] <g>ELTHAM HALL</g>, p. 111.--It was whilst residing at his
Palace of Eltham that King Richard II. resolved upon the murder of the
Duke of Gloucester. “Unable,” says Froissart, “to conceal any longer the
great hatred he bore to his uncle, he determined to have him cut off
according to the advice given him, namely, that ‘it was more advisable
to destroy than to be destroyed.’ Accordingly, the king having rode to
the Castle of <g>Pleshy</g>, about thirty miles from London, with fair words
cajoled the duke out of his castle, and was attended by him to a lane
that led to the Thames, where they arrived between ten and eleven
o’clock at night. Here the Earl-Marshal, who there lay in ambush,
arrested him in the king’s name, and forced him towards the Thames in
spite of his cries to the king to deliver him. He was conscious, from
the moment of his being thus arrested, that his end was resolved on; and
it was confirmed to him by the king turning a deaf car to his
complaints, and riding on full gallop to London, where he lodged that
night in the Tower. The Duke of Gloucester had other lodgings; for
whether he would or not, he was forced into a boat that carried him to a
vessel at anchor in the Thames, into which he was compelled to enter.
The Earl-Marshal embarked also with his men, and having a favourable
wind and tide, they fell down the river, and arrived late on the morrow
evening at Calais, without any one knowing it but the king’s officers.
The Earl-Marshal, as governor, could enter Calais at all hours, without
any one thinking it strange: so he carried the duke to the castle, and
there placed him in confinement.... In the meantime King Richard,
leaving the Tower at an early hour, rode to his palace of <g>Eltham</g> and
there remained; while the same day toward evening, the Earls of Arundel
and Warwick were both brought to the Tower and there confined, to the
great surprise of the citizens. But to return to Calais: When the Duke
of Gloucester saw himself shut up in the castle, abandoned by his
brothers, and deprived of his attendants, he began to feel alarmed; and
addressing himself to the Earl-Marshal--‘For what reason,’ he inquired,
‘am I thus carried from England, and confined here? Do you mean to
retain me a close prisoner? Let me go and view the castle, the garrison,
and the people of the town.’ ‘My lord,’ replied the earl, ‘I dare not
comply with your demands; for you are consigned to my guard, under pain
of death. The king, our lord, is at this moment somewhat wroth with you;
and it is his orders that you abide here awhile in banishment with us,
which you must have patience to do until we have other news, and God
grant that it may be soon! for as the Lord liveth, I am truly concerned
for your disgrace, and would cheerfully aid you if I could;
[Illustration]
but knowing the oath I have taken to the king, you know I am bound in
honour to obey.’ This was the only answer the Duke of Gloucester could
obtain; he too well judged from appearances, that his life was in
jeopardy; and asked the priest who had said mass, if he would confess
him. This he did with great calmness and resignation; and with a devout
and contrite heart, cried before the altar of God, the Creator of all
things, for his mercy and forgiveness. He was repentant of all his sins,
and lamented them greatly. He was right thus to exonerate his
conscience, for his end was nearer than he imagined: for being on the
point of sitting down to dinner, while he was washing his hands, four
men rushed suddenly out from an adjoining chamber, and, throwing a towel
round his neck, strangled him by two drawing one end and two the other.
When he was quite dead they carried him to his chamber, undressed him,
and placed the body between two sheets with his head on a pillow, and
covered him with furred mantles. They then re-entered the hall, properly
instructed what to say and how to act, and declared that the Duke of
Gloucester had been seized with an apoplexy as he was washing his hands
before dinner, and that they had great difficulty to carry him to bed.
This was the report published in the garrison and the town, where some
believed it, and others not. Within two days after, it was published
abroad that the duke had died in his bed at the Castle of Calais; and in
consequence the Earl-Marshal, who was the duke’s near relation, put on
mourning, as did all the knights and squires in the town of Calais.” As
to the manner of his death, it appears by the confession of Hall, one of
the accomplices, that the duke was smothered with pillows, not
strangled, as Froissart was informed.
[Illustration] <g>TEWKESBURY</g>, p. 167.--By papers in the Bodleian Lib. Hist.
of Tewkesb. 107, 1574, it appears, that on the twenty-fourth of July,
being fair day, such a quantity of bats came floating down the river
Avon, at Tewkesbury, that they covered the surface of the water for
above a land’s length, in heaps above a foot thick, which so dammed up
the mills for three days, that they could not go till the bats were dug
out with shovels!
Page 189, A.D. 1578.--In the churchwardens’ book of accounts for this
year, are the items here annexed:--“Payd for the plaiers geers six
sheepskins for Christ’s garments,” ibid. 1585. “Order eight heads of
hair for the Apostles, and ten beards, and a face or visor for the
Devel,”--which show that mysteries, as plays were then called, were
probably acted in the churches. In Italy the practice is still kept up,
as every traveller in that and other parts of the Continent has
observed; particularly during the Christmas festival, when nearly every
church and convent have exhibitions of the Saviour’s birth, and the
miraculous circumstances attending it.
* * * * *
[Illustration] <g>KENILWORTH CASTLE</g>, p. 211.--Thomas de la Moore, in his
Life and Death of Edward II., relates the following, as part of the
cruel and insulting treatment to which the unhappy sovereign was
subjected by his keepers, on leaving Kenilworth for Berkeley Castle. It
is of a serio-comic nature; but no reader who ever held a razor, but
will sympathize with the wretched monarch in his stipulations for at
least the indulgence of _warm water_, under such an
operation:--“Attestamur et scribimus quæ luce clariora innotuerunt
mundo, si non timor æmulorum regis devotissimi adhuc superstitis clarere
prohiberet, quæ non poterint occultare. Tum abducitur Edwardus (ut
præscriptum est) versus Berkleyam à satrapis Sathanæ equitans stipatus,
duxerunt etiam exemplar patientiæ per grangias Castri Bristollii, ubi de
fœno factam coronam capiti jumdudum oleo sancto consecrato imposuit
nefarius ille de Gorney, ausus contingere Christum Dei, cui illudentes
ironia nimis acerba milites dixerunt, _Fareforth Syr Kynge_. Metuentes
maligni, ne pariter directè incedentibus obuiaret aliquis amicus Edwardi
et manus misericors ipsum liberatura, declinauerunt ad Smischam per
mariscum ad flumen Sabrinæ terminatum. Excogitârunt inimici Dei quomodo
Edwardum deformarent, ne foret facilè notus. Vnde cauariem et barbam
radendas cōstituerunt. Venientes proinde in itinere ad fossam, iusserunt
ipsum radendū descendere. Cui assidenti super cujusdam talpæ monticulum
pelvim aqua frigida de fossa recepta attulit barbitonsor. Cui et aliis
asserentibus quod aqua talis pro tune deberet sufficere, ait
Edwardus--_Velitis, nolitis, habebimus pro barba aquas calidas_; et ut
promissum consequeretur veritas, cepit profuse lachrymare. Ita mihi
retulit viuens post magnam pestilentiam Gulielmus Bischop, qui
ductoribus Edwardi sodalis, unde confessus et contritus pœnituit, sub
spe misericordiæ divinæ.”--P. 602, edit. Francofort.
* * * * *
“This Kyng Herolde at Waltam, which he found,
Of foure score chanons, full fayre was buryed
At the hye aulter, and as a kyng was crownde,
All yf he were intrusor notifyed,
And in batayl slayne and victoryed,
Of gentylnesse the Conquerour bad so
As yf he were afore his mortall fo.”--Hardyng, 3234.
[Illustration] <g>WALTHAM.--Death of Harold</g>, Text, p. 266.--“Ipse carens
omni decore quibusdam signis nequaquam facie recognitus est, et in
castra Ducis delatus qui tumulandum eum Guillelmo agnomine Maletto
concessit, non matri pro corpore delectæ prolis auri par pondus
offerenti.” The quantity of gold which Harold’s mother is here related
to have offered to the victorious duke for the body of her son, may be
reasonably estimated, as Maseres has shown in a note on this passage of
the “Gesta Guillelmi,” at eleven thousand pounds. The supposed visit of
Harold’s mother to the field of battle in search of his body, and that
of Edith with the Swan’s neck--mentioned in the text, who finally
discovered it by some secret token--are thus described in a MS. ballad
on the subject:--
“The day is lost! The din of war is hushed on Hastings’ field:
In triumph rolls the Norman car o’er England’s trampled shield.
‘Prepare the feast!’ Duke William cries. The midnight feast is spread;
And there, in gilded canopies, they banquet ’midst the dead!
The bowl is drained, the oath renewed of fealty to their Chief;
But how shall gilded tents exclude the wail of woman’s grief!
‘Where is my son?’ a mother cries; ‘his corse but to behold,
And lay it where his kindred lies, I’ll give its weight in gold!’
‘Thy son is slain! his crown is sold! Duke William wears it now;
We’ll give thee iron for thy gold--Lady, what more would’st thou?’
She heard and wept--then faltered on: her heart with anguish bled,
As wistfully she gazed upon the faces of the dead!
But ’midst the thousand forms of death that show’d the ghastly wound.
And weltering strew’d the gory heath, her HAROLD was not found!
She sat her down and wept aloud: and sighed--‘Undone--undone!
Now lay me in the hallowed shroud that should have wrapt my son!’
* * * * *
At length the gentle Edith came, led by a holy man,
And, lighted by a taper’s flame, again the search began.
Darkly her raven tresses hung upon her neck of snow,
And still her lily hands she wrung in ecstacy of woe!
Around her, HAROLD’S warriors true lay heaped upon the plain,
Where high the Norman banner flew insulting o’er the slain;
A friar of Waltham’s Holy Rood stood in that mournful ring,
And wiping off the clotted blood--‘Oh, Christ! is this the king?’
Down to the earth fair Edith bent, upraised the lifeless head,
And ’neath the light that taper lent, gazed wildly on the dead!
One pause of fearful agony--a breathless, deep suspense--
Was visible in every eye, and felt in every sense!
[Illustration]
There, like a cedar in his pride struck down, a warrior lay;
And here extended at his side a chieftain’s proud array.
They scann’d his features o’er and o’er, but ’wildered was their view,
Until the secret mark appeared, which Edith only knew--
And then a shrill and piercing shriek the fearful truth confess’d,
The hue of death was on her cheek--she sunk upon his breast!
But Harold’s lip and Harold’s eye, in cold forgetfulness
For ever sealed, made no reply to Edith’s frantic kiss.
Oh, must I see thee thus, and live? Yet Heaven be witness here,
How gladly would thy Edith give her bosom for thy bier!’”
* * * * *
* * * * *
[Illustration] <g>ROCHESTER CASTLE.</g>--Anno dominicæ incarnationis DCCCI.
nativitatis autem Ælfredi regis xxxiv. exercitus in duas turmas divisit.
Una etenim turma in orientalem Franciam perrexit; et altera ad
Britanniam veniens, Cantium adiit; civitatemq’, quæ Hrofceastre Saxonicè
dicitur, in orientali ripa fluminis Medwæg sitam obsedit. Ante hujus
portam pagani Castellum ibimet firmum subitò fabricauerunt. Nec tamen
illam civitatem expugnare potuerunt; quia cives illi se viriliter
defenderunt, quousque Ælfred rex cū magno exercitu adiutorium illis
conferens superuenit. Et tunc pagani relicta arce sua et omnibus equis,
quos de Francia secum adduxerant derelictis; maxima parte nec non
captiuorum suorum in arce dimissa adueniente subitò rege, ad naues suas
confestim confugiunt. Et Saxones statim derelictos à paganis captiuos et
equos diripiunt.--Asser. de Ælfred. Reb. Gest. fol. 11.
[Illustration] <g>CARISBROOKE CASTLE</g>, p. 284.--Of the circumstances
mentioned in the text, the following is the relation given by the
learned monk already quoted:--“Rogerius verò de Britolio, Comes
Herefordensis ad curiam regis vocatus venit, et inquisitus manifestam
toti mundo proditionem negare non potuit. Igitùr secundùm _leges
Normanorum_ judicatus est, et amissa omni hæreditate terrena, in carcere
Regis perpetuò damnatus est. Ibi etiam Regi multoties detraxit, et
contumacibus actis, implacabiliter offendit. Nam quondam, dum plebs Dei
Paschale festum congruè celebraret, et Rex structum preciosarum vestium
Rogerio Comiti per idoneos satellites in ergastulo mitteret; ille pyram
ingentem antè se jussit præparari, et ibidem, Regalia ornamenta,
chlamydem sericamq’ interulam, et renonem de preciosis pellibus
peregrinorum _murium_ subitò comburi. Quod audiens Rex iratus dixit:
‘Multùm superbus est qui hoc mihi dedecus fecit; sed, _per splendorem
Dei_, de carcere mea in omni vita mea non exibit.’ Sententia regis tàm
fixa permansit, quòd nec etiam post mortem Regis ipse, nisi mortuus, de
vinculis exiit. Rainaldus et Rogerius filii ejus, optimi tirones,
Henrico Regi famulantur et clementiam ejus--quæ tardissima iis visa
est--in duris agonibus præstolantur.” In commenting upon the above
passage, a learned writer has made the following remarks:--“It appears
from the text that Roger, Earl of Hereford, was brought to his trial
before the king’s court, or council of the _proceres_, or great men of
the kingdom, and was condemned by them to suffer perpetual imprisonment,
with the loss of all his inheritance. So that, in this instance, as well
as in the case of Ralph de Guader, the said court or council appear to
have acted as a court of criminal jurisdiction. But it seems remarkable
that the judgment they passed upon this great and notorious rebel, who
could not, and did not, deny the crime he was charged with, should not
have extended to his life; more especially, as Waltheof, Earl of
Northampton, who had refused to have any share in the rebellion raised
by the other two earls, and had only been guilty of concealing his
knowledge of their intentions, was, in a short time after, condemned to
lose his life for that lesser offence, and was, as stated in the text,
actually beheaded at Winchester. One would almost suspect that they were
tried by two different laws; namely, Roger, Lord of the Isle of Wight,
who was a Norman, by the _law of Normandy_; and Waltheof, Earl of
Northampton, who was an Englishman, by the _law of England_; and that
the Norman law of that period did not punish high treason with death,
although the English law did. With respect to the garments sent by the
king to this haughty prisoner, they are understood by commentators on
the original passage to have consisted of--First, an outer
[Illustration]
garment or coat; secondly, an inner garment or waistcoat, made of silk;
and thirdly, a short cloak to be thrown over the shoulders, and that
reached only to the waist, made of the rich furs of some foreign
animals, which the author calls mice (murium), and were probably either
ermines or martins. It is also conjectured that the present thus sent to
the earl was a set of robes, suited to the rank and office of Earl of
Hereford, which he had lately held, and to which it might have been King
William’s intention to restore him, “if his inconceivable pride had not
prevented it.”
In his interesting notice of the lives and fortunes of this great
family, the learned monk of Utica concludes with these striking moral
reflections on the transitory nature of all human grandeur:--“Verè
gloria mundi, ut flos fœni decidit et arescit; ac, velut fumus deficit
et transit. Ubi est <g>Gulielmus Osberni filius</g>, Herefordensis Comes, et
Regis Vicarius, Normanniæ dapifer, et magister militum bellicosus? Hic
nimirùm primus et maximus oppressor Anglorum fuit, et enormem causam per
temeritatem suam enutrivit, per quam millibus ruina miseræ mortis
incubuit. Verùm justus Judex omnia videt, et unicuique, prout meretur,
redhibet. Proh dolor! ecce <g>Gulielmus</g> corruit, audax athleta recipit quod
promeruit. Ut multos ense trucidavit, ipse quoque ferro repentè
interiit. Denique post ejus occasum antequam lustrum compleretur
annorum, spiritus discordiæ filium ejus et generum contra dominum suum
et cognatum hostiliter excivit, qui Sichimitas contrà Abimelech (quem
occicis LXX. filiis Jerobaal sibi præfecerant) commovit! En veracitur à
me descripta est offensa, pro qua <g>Guillelmi</g> progenies eradicata sic est
de Anglia, ut nec passum pedis, nisi fallor, jam nanciscatur in illa.”
Duchesne--Excerp. Order. Vital. De Gul. primo rege Anglorum 322. Selecta
Monumenta.
That the Conqueror’s philosophy was not proof against any little
disappointment of the palate is evident from the following
anecdote:--“When his prime favourite, William Fitz-Osborne, steward of
his household, served him with the flesh of a crane scarcely half
roasted, he was so highly exasperated that he lifted up his fist, and
would have struck him had not Eudo, appointed ‘dapifer,’ immediately
after warded off the blow.”--Warner, i. 307.
<g>It</g> was to the Isle of Wight that the Earl of Warwick--when brought to
trial along with the Earl of Arundel--was banished in these terms: “Earl
of Warwick! this sentence is very favourable, for you have deserved to
die as much as the Earl of Arundel; but the handsome services you have
done in time past to King Edward, of happy memory, and the Prince of
Wales, his son, as well on this as on the other side of the sea, have
secured your life; but it is ordered, that you banish yourself to the
Isle of <g>Wight</g>, taking with you a sufficiency of wealth to support your
state so long as you shall live, and that you never quit the
island.”--Froissart.
<g>The</g> passage referred to Monstrelet in the text, is as follows:--“In this
year Waleran, Comte de St. Pol, assembled at Abbeville, in Ponthieu,
about sixteen hundred fighting men: among whom were numbers of the
nobility, who had made great provisions of salted meats, biscuits,
wines, brandy, flour, and other things necessary on board of ships. From
Abbeville the Count led them to Harfleur, where they found vessels of
all descriptions ready to receive them. When they had remained there
some days, to arrange their matters and to recommend themselves to St.
Nicholas (the sailors’ patron-saint), they embarked on board these
vessels, and sailed direct for the Isle of <g>Wight</g>. Landing on the island,
they made a bold countenance to face their enemies, of whom they had
seen but little on their landing; for all, or at least the greater part
of the islanders, had retreated to the woods and fortresses. In the
meantime several new knights were created by the Count; namely, Philippe
de Harcourt, Jean de Fosseux, Lord of Guiency, and others, who went to
burn some miserable villages, and set fire to some other places. In the
meanwhile a sensible <g>priest</g> of the island came to the Count to treat for
the ransom and security of the island; for which he gave the Count to
understand that a very large sum of money would be paid to him and his
captains. The Count lent a ready ear to this proposal; but it was a mere
ruse on the part of the priest to delay their operations, till the
military force of the island could be brought together. Waleran
discovered the plot, but it was too late to take revenge; and
re-embarking his men in all haste, set sail, and returned home without
doing anything more. The nobles were much displeased at this conduct;
for they had expended large sums in laying in stores for the expedition,
which, after all, was completely defeated by a single
priest.”--Monstrelet, vol. i. 32.
[Illustration] <g>NETLEY ABBEY.</g> The following incident--interesting as
connected with the ruins--is related by Digby in his Mores
Catholici:--“I found a stranger,” says he, “once in <g>Netley</g>, on the eve
of <g>St. John</g>, standing contemplative, who, after some space, accosted me.
It was some holy solitary man, who told me he had been singing <g>vespers</g>
to himself within the ruins of the church, and a thought had been
suggested to him by a verse of the Magnificat, which he was eager to
communicate. ‘The poor persecuted monks,’ said he, ‘are now for ever
blessed in the centre of all felicity, while the proud, who made their
dwelling-place a heap of ruins, as we see, have been scattered in the
conceit of their heart, and dispersed through all the wastes of doubt,
distrust, and error.’ Thus did the ruins assist his meditation.” The
elder Pliny observes, that the houses which had been once inhabited by
heroes of a noble race, lamented when they passed to new and unworthy
masters; and that the very walls reproached the cowards who entered a
place consecrated by the monuments of virtue.” A modern author also
says, “It may be generally remarked, that the more nobly a mansion has
been tenanted in the day of its prosperity, the viler are its
inhabitants in the day of its decline. Thus, boors are the only
inhabitants of Croyland, gipsies of <g>Netley</g>, while other religious houses
are now possessed by the same class as that which caused their
overthrow.”
[Illustration]