SAMSON'S CONTESTS WITH KNIGHTS, MONKS AND TOWNSMEN
King Richard commanded all the bishops and abbots of England that for
every nine knights of their baronies they should make a tenth knight,
and that without delay those knights should go to him in Normandy,
with horses and arms, in aid against the King of France. Wherefore it
behoved the abbot to account to him for sending four knights. And when
he had caused to be summoned all his knights, and had conferred with
them thereon, they made answer that their fees, which they had holden
of St. Edmund, were not liable to this charge, neither had they or
their fathers ever gone out of England, although they had, on some
occasions, paid escuage by the King's writ.
The abbot was indeed in a strait; on one hand observing that hereby
the liberty of his knights was in peril, on the other hand
apprehending that he might lose the seisin of his barony for default
in the King's service, as indeed had befallen the Bishop of London and
many English barons. So he forthwith went beyond seas to the King; and
though fatigued with many troubles and expenses, and very many
presents which he gave the King, in the first instance he could make
no agreement with the King by money. For the King said that he did not
want either silver or gold, but that he instantly required four
knights; whereupon the abbot obtained four mercenaries. When the King
had got these, he sent them to the Castle of Eu, and the abbot paid
them thirty-six marks down for their expenses for forty days.
Now on the morrow, there came certain of the King's attendants, and
recommended the abbot to carefully look to what he was about, stating
that the war might possibly last a whole year or more, and that the
expenses of the knights would consequently increase and multiply, to
the endless damage of him and his church. They therefore advised him
that before he left the court he should make fine with the King, so
that he might be quit in respect of the service of the aforesaid
knights after the forty days were passed. The abbot, having adopted
this good counsel, gave to the King one hundred pounds for such a
quittance. Thus being in favour with his sovereign, he returned to
England, bringing with him the King's writ, commanding that his
knights should be distrained by their fees to render him that King's
service which he had got performed for them.
The knights, being summoned, alleged their poverty and manifold
grievances, and prevailed upon their lord to accept two marks upon
every shield. The abbot, indeed, not forgetting that he had that same
year burdened them much, and had impleaded them to make them render
their escuage individually, was desirous of conciliating their esteem,
and in good part accepted what they with a good grace offered.
At that time, although the abbot had been put to great expenses beyond
sea, yet he did not return home to this church empty-handed; for he
brought with him a golden cross, and a most valuable copy of the
Gospels, of the value of fourscore marks. On another occasion when he
returned from beyond seas, sitting in chapter, he said that if he had
been cellarer or chamberlain he would have made some purchase which
would have been serviceable to his office; and since he was abbot, he
ought to purchase something that should beseem him as abbot. After
saying this, he offered to the convent a valuable chasuble, and a
mitre interwoven with gold, and sandals with silken buskins, and the
head of a crozier of silver and well wrought. In like manner, so often
as he returned from beyond sea, he brought along with him some
ornament or other.
In the year of grace one thousand one hundred and ninety-seven,
certain innovations and alterations took place in our church, which
ought not to be passed over in silence. Insomuch as his ancient rents
were not sufficient for our cellarer, Abbot Samson ordered that fifty
pounds from Mildenhall should be given by way of increase to the
cellarer yearly by the hands of the prior, not all at one time, but by
monthly instalments, so that he should have something every month to
expend, and that it should not all be disbursed at one time of the
year.
And so it was done for one year. But the cellarer with his fellows
complained of this, saying that if he had that money in hand, he would
provide himself and preserve a sufficient stock. The abbot, although
unwillingly, granted his petition. Now, on the commencement of the
month of August, the cellarer had already spent all, and, moreover,
was in debt twenty pounds, and a debt of fifty pounds was about to
fall due before Michaelmas.
Hearing of this, the abbot was wroth, and thus spoke in chapter: "I
have often and often threatened that I will take the cellarership into
my own hands on account of your default and improvidence, for all of
you keep incumbering yourselves with heavy debts. I put my own clerk
with your cellarer as a witness, and in order that matters should be
more advisedly managed; but there is neither clerk nor monk who dares
to inform me of the real cause of debt. It is nevertheless said that
excess of feasting in the prior's house, by the assent of the prior
and cellarer, and superfluous expenses in the guest-house by the
carelessness of the hospitaller, are the cause of all this. You see,"
he continued, "what a great debt is now pressing; give me your advice,
and tell me how this matter can be amended."
Many of the cloister folk hearing this, and half smiling, took what
was said in very good part, saying privily, "All that the abbot says
is true enough." The prior cast the blame upon the cellarer, the
cellarer in his turn upon the hospitaller; each one justified himself.
We all of us well knew the truth of the matter, but we held our
tongues, for we were afraid. On the morrow came the abbot, and said
again to the convent: "Give me your opinion as to the means whereby
your cellar can be better and more economically managed." But there
was no one who answered, except one, who said that there was no
superfluity at all in the refectory which could occasion such a debt
or pressure. On the third day the abbot spoke the same words, and one
answered, "That advice ought to proceed from yourself, as from our
head."
Then the abbot said, "As you will not state your opinion, and as you
are incapable of managing your house for yourselves, the management of
the monastery rests solely upon myself as father and supreme keeper. I
take," he said, "into my own hand your cellar and the charge of the
guests, and the stewardship of everything indoors and out of doors."
So saying he deposed the cellarer and hospitaller, and put in their
stead two other monks, under the style of sub-cellarer and
hospitaller, associating with them Master G., a clerk of his own
table, without whose assent nothing could be done, either in respect
of meat or drink, or in regard to disbursements or receipts.
The old purveyors were removed from their buying in the market, and
provisions were bought by the clerk of the abbot, and all deficiencies
were supplied out of the abbot's purse. The guests that ought to be
entertained were received, and the honourable were honoured; the
officials and monks, all of them alike, took their meals in the
refectory, and on all sides superfluous charges were retrenched.
However, some of the cloister monks said among themselves, "Seven, ay
seven there were who devoured our substance, of whose devourings if
any one did speak, he was accounted guilty of treason." Another would
say, stretching forth his hands to heaven, "Blessed be God, who hath
imparted this resolution to the abbot to correct such excesses"; and
very many of them said that it was well done. Others would say, "Not
so," they considering that such reform was an abatement of respect;
and they styled the prudence of the abbot the ferocity of a wolf.
Verily, they were again beginning to call their old dreams to mind,
that the future abbot was to rage as a wolf.
The knights marvelled and the townsfolk marvelled at the things that
came to pass, and some one of the common folk said, "It is a strange
thing that so many monks and learned men should permit their
possessions and rents to be confused and mingled with the possessions
of the abbot; especially as they have been always accustomed to be
kept distinct and apart from each other. It is strange also that they
take no heed of the peril that may befall them after the death of the
abbot if our lord the King should find them in such a condition."
Another person said that the abbot was the only one amongst them who
acted wisely in the governing of external affairs, and that he ought
to govern the whole who has the knowledge requisite to govern the
whole. And there was one who said, "If there had been but one wise
monk in such a large convent, who knew how to govern the house, the
abbot would not have done as he has." And so we became a
laughing-stock and a scoff to our neighbours.
About this time it came to pass that the anniversary obit of abbot
Robert was to be sung in chapter, and it was ordered that a _placebo_
and _dirige_ should be sung more solemnly than ordinarily, namely,
with tolling of the great bells, as upon the anniversaries of abbots
Ording and Hugh, on account of the noble act of the aforesaid abbot
Robert, who made the division between our possessions and rents, and
the rents of the abbot. This solemnity, indeed, was performed by the
advice of certain persons, so that thus at least the heart of the lord
abbot might thus be stirred up to do what was right. There was also
one who thought that this was done as a reproach to the abbot, who, it
was said, was desirous of confusing and mingling together our and his
possessions and rents, insomuch as he had seized the cellarership into
his own hands. The abbot, however, hearing the unwonted noise of the
bells, and well knowing and observing that it was done against all
usage, discreetly ignored the reason of its being done, and solemnly
chanted the mass.
Indeed, on the next Michaelmas day, desiring to appease the murmurings
of certain persons, he appointed him who had been formerly
sub-cellarer to be cellarer, and he ordered some other man to be named
sub-cellarer; the aforesaid clerk, nevertheless, remaining with them,
and managing all things as before. But when that clerk began to exceed
the bounds of temperance, saying, "I am Bu," meaning the cellarer,
when he had exceeded the bounds of temperance in drinking, and without
the knowledge of the abbot was holding the court of the cellarer,
taking gages and pledges, and receiving the annual rents, disbursing
them by his own hand, he was called by the people the chief cellarer.
It was his habit to stroll about the court followed by a crowd of
debtors, rich and poor, and of suitors of all ranks preferring various
complaints, as if he were the master and high steward. On one such
occasion, one of our officers happened to be standing in the court,
and, upon seeing this, for confusion and shame, he wept outright,
considering that this was a disgrace to our church, pondering upon the
peril consequent thereon, and realizing that a clerk was preferred to
a monk, to the prejudice of the whole convent.
Therefore some one, who shall be nameless, undertook, through a third
party, that these things should be intimated to the abbot in a proper
and reasonable manner; and he was given to understand that this
species of arrogance in the clerk, which was committed to the disgrace
and dishonour of the society, was very likely to breed a great
disturbance and dissension in the convent. The abbot certainly did,
when he heard of this, forthwith summon the cellarer and the aforesaid
clerk before him, and gave orders that thenceforth the cellarer should
consider himself as cellarer in receiving moneys, in holding pleas,
and in all other things, save that the aforesaid clerk should assist
him, not as an equal, but as a witness and adviser.
Hamo Blund, one of the wealthier men of this town, on his death-bed
could hardly be persuaded to make a will. At last he did, but disposed
of only three marks, and this in the hearing of no one, except his
brother, wife and chaplain. The abbot, ascertaining this after the
man's decease, called those three persons before him, and sharply
rebuked them, especially upon this point, that the brother (who was
his heir) and his wife would not suffer any one else to approach the
sick man, they desiring to take all. The abbot said in audience, "I
was his bishop, and had the charge of his soul; let not the folly of
his priest and confessor turn to my peril. Insomuch as I could not
advise the sick man when alive, I being absent, what concerns my
conscience I shall now perform, late though it be. I therefore command
that all his debts and his moveable chattels, which are worth, as it
is said, two hundred marks, be reduced into a writing, and that one
portion be given to the heir, and another to the wife, and the third
to his poor kinsfolk and other poor persons. As to the horse which was
led before the coffin of the deceased, and was offered to St. Edmund,
I order that it be sent back and returned; for it does not beseem our
church to be defiled with the gift of him who died intestate, and whom
common report accuses of being habitually wont to put out his money to
interest. By the face of God, if such a thing came to pass of any one
again in my days, he shall not be buried in the churchyard!" On his
saying these things, the others departed greatly disconcerted.
On the morrow of the Nativity of our Lord, there took place in the
churchyard meetings, wrestlings, and matches, between the servants of
the abbot and the burgesses of the town; and from words they came to
blows, from cuffs to wounds and to the shedding of blood. The abbot,
hearing of this, called to him privately certain of those who were
present at the sight, but yet stood afar off, and ordered that the
names of the evil-doers should be set down in writing. All these he
caused to be summoned, that they should stand before him on the morrow
of St. Thomas the archbishop, in the chapel of St. Denis, to answer
therefor. Nor did he, in the meantime, invite to his own table any one
of the burgesses, as he had been wont to do, on the first five days of
Christmas.
On the day appointed, having taken the oaths from sixteen lawful men,
and having heard their evidence, the abbot said, "It is manifest that
these evil-doers have incurred the penalties of the canon _latae
sententiae_; but because both parties are laymen, and do not understand
what a crime it is to commit such a sacrilege as this, I shall by name
and publicly excommunicate them, in order that others may be deterred
from doing the like: and that in no wise there be any diminution of
justice, I shall first begin with my own domestics and servants." And
it was done accordingly, we putting on our robes and lighting the
candles. So they all went forth from the church, and being advised so
to do, they all stripped themselves, and altogether naked, except
their drawers, they prostrated themselves before the door of the
church.
When the assessors of the abbot had come, monks as well as clerks, and
informed him, with tears in their eyes, that more than a hundred men
were lying down thus naked, the abbot wept. Nevertheless, making a
show of legal severity both in word and countenance and concealing the
pity he felt, he desired to be persuaded by his counsellors that the
penitents should be absolved, knowing that mercy is exalted over
judgment, and that the church receives all penitents. Thereupon, they
being all sharply whipped and absolved, they swore all of them that
they would abide by the judgment of the church for sacrilege
committed.
On the morrow, penance was assigned to them, according to the
appointment of the canons; and thus the abbot restored all of them to
unity of concord, uttering terrible threats to all those who by word
or deed should furnish matter of discord.
Further, he publicly forbade meetings and shows to be had in the
churchyard; and so all things being brought to a state of peace, the
burgesses feasted on the following days with their lord the abbot,
with great joy.