The Chronicle of Jocelin of Brakelond Part 7

On the morrow it was communicated to the Archbishop of Canterbury, that the lord Archbishop of York was about to come as legate into England, and that he had suggested many evil things to the Pope concerning him, stating that he had oppressed the churches of England by reason of his visitation to the extent of thirty thousand marks, which he had received from them. The legate, therefore, sent his clerks to the abbot, begging him that he would, with the other abbots, write to our lord the Pope and justify him.

This the abbot willingly did, and thereby offered his testimony that the lord of Canterbury had not been to our church, nor had he oppressed any other church, speaking according to his conscience. And when the abbot had delivered those letters to the messengers of the archbishop, he said before us all that he did not fear, even if it were the archbishop's wish to deal deceitfully with those letters. The clerks answered on the peril of their souls, that their lord did not contemplate any subtle dealings, but only wished to be justified. And so the archbishop and the abbot were made friends.

CHAPTER XI

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 pa.s.sed. 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 pa.s.sed 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 pet.i.tion. 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 inc.u.mbering 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 a.s.sent 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, a.s.sociating with them Master G., a clerk of his own table, without whose a.s.sent nothing could be done, either in respect of meat or drink, or in regard to disburs.e.m.e.nts 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 G.o.d, 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 pa.s.s, 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 pa.s.s 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 n.o.ble 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 ma.s.s.

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 a.s.sist 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 G.o.d, if such a thing came to pa.s.s 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 a.s.sessors 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 a.s.signed 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.

CHAPTER XII

THE CARES OF OFFICE

A commission of our lord the Pope had been directed to Hubert, Archbishop of Canterbury, and to the lord Bishop of Lincoln, and to Samson, Abbot of St. Edmund, touching the reformation of the church of Coventry, and the restoration of the monks thereto, without any revision of their case. The parties being summoned to Oxford, the judges received letters of request from our lord the King, that this business should be respited.

The archbishop and the bishop, seeming to know nothing, were silent, as if seeking the favour of the clerks. The abbot was the only one who spoke out, and he did so as a monk for the monks of Coventry, publicly advocating and defending their cause. And by his means it was so far proceeded with on that day, that a certain simple seisin was made to one of the monks of Coventry by delivery of one book. But corporate inst.i.tution was deferred for a time, that so in some degree the abbot might obey the request of our lord the King.

At that time he entertained in his inn fourteen monks of Coventry who had appeared there; and when the monks were sitting at the table on one side of the house, and the masters of the schools who had been summoned thither on the other, the abbot was applauded as n.o.ble and liberal in his expenses. Never in all his life did he seem so joyful as at that time, for the reverence he bore towards reform of monastic rule. The feast of St. Hilary being now at hand, the abbot journeyed on to Coventry in high spirits, neither was he overcome by fatigue or charges, for he said, that even if he had to be carried in a horse-litter, he would not remain behind. On his arrival at Coventry, where for five days he was waiting for the archbishop, he kept with him all the afore-named monks, with their servants, in most honourable fashion, until a new prior was created, and the monks had been formally inducted. "He that hath ears to hear, let him hear," for it is an act worthy to be had in remembrance.

After this the abbot Samson and Robert of Scales came to an agreement concerning the moiety of the advowson of the church of Wetherden, and the same Robert acknowledged it to be the right of St. Edmund and the abbot. Thereupon the abbot, without any previous understanding taking place, and without any promise previously made, gave that moiety which belonged to him to Master Roger of Scales, brother of the same knight, upon this condition, that he should pay by the hand of our sacrist an annual pension of three marks to that master of the schools who should teach in the town of St. Edmund. This the abbot did, being induced thereto by motives of remarkable generosity; in order that as he had formerly purchased stone houses for the use of the schools, that poor clerks should be free from house rent, so now from thenceforth they might be freed from all demand of moneys which the master of the school demanded by custom for his teaching. And so, by G.o.d's will, and during the abbot's life, the entire moiety of the aforesaid church, which is worth, as it is said, one hundred shillings, was appropriated to such purposes.

Now the abbot, after that he had built in his vills throughout the abbacy many and various edifices, and had taken up his quarters at his manor houses oftener and more frequently than with us at home, at length, as if returning to himself, and as if making good better, said that he would stay more at home than he had been used to do; and would now erect some buildings within the court for necessary purposes, having regard to internals and externals, and as if he was aware that "the presence of the master is the profit of the field." Therefore he gave directions that the stables and offices in the court lodge and round about the same, formerly covered with reeds, should be newly roofed, and covered with tiles, under the supervision of Hugh the sacrist, so that thus all fear and risk of fire might be prevented.

And now, behold the acceptable time, the day of desire, whereof I write not but with great joy, myself having the care of the guests.

Lo! at the command of the abbot the court lodge resounds with spades and masons' tools, for pulling down the guest-house; and now it is almost all levelled. Of the rebuilding, let the Most High take thought! The abbot built for himself a new larder in the court lodge, and gave to the convent the old larder (which was situated, in a very slovenly fashion, under the dorter) for the accommodation of the chamberlain. The chapels of St. Andrew and St. Katherine and St. Faith were newly covered with lead; many repairs were also made, both inside the church and without. If you do not believe, open your eyes and see.

Also in his time our almonry, which previously was of wood and out of repair, was built in stone; whereto a certain brother of ours, Walter the physician, at that time almoner, contributed much of what he had acquired by his practice of physic.

The abbot also observing that the silver retable of the high altar, and many other precious ornaments, had been alienated for the purpose of the recovery of Mildenhall and the ransom of King Richard, was not desirous of replacing that table or such-like matters, which upon a similar occasion were liable to be torn away and misappropriated. He therefore turned his attention to the making of a most valuable cresting for the shrine of the glorious martyr Edmund, that his ornament might be set in a place whence it could by no possibility be abstracted, and whereon no human being would dare to put forth his hand.

For indeed, when King Richard was captive in Germany, there was no treasure in England that had not either to be given up or redeemed; yet the shrine of St. Edmund remained untouched. However, the question was raised before the justices of the exchequer, whether the shrine of St. Edmund should not, at least in part, be stripped for the ransom of King Richard. But the abbot standing up, answered, "Know ye of a surety, that this never shall be done by me, nor is there a man who can compel me to consent to it. But I will open the doors of the church: let him enter who will, let him approach who dare." Each of the justices replied with oaths, "I will not venture to approach it."

"Nor will I." "St. Edmund grievously punishes those who are far off as well as those who are near at hand; how much more will he inflict vengeance upon those who take away his vesture!"

Upon this neither was the shrine despoiled, nor redemption paid.

Therefore pa.s.sing by other things, the abbot carefully and advisedly turned his mind towards the making of a cresting for the shrine. And now the plates of gold and silver resound between the hammer and the anvil, and "the carpenters wield their tools."

Adam of c.o.c.kfield dying, left for his heir a daughter of three months old; and the abbot gave the wardship of his fee to whom he would. Now King Richard, being solicited by some of his courtiers, anxiously sought for the wardship and the child for the benefit of one of his servants; at one time by letters, at another time by messengers.

But the abbot answered that he had given the ward away, and had confirmed his gift by his charter. Sending his own messenger to the King, he did all he could, by entreaty and good offices, to mitigate his wrath. And the King made answer, with great indignation, that he would avenge himself upon that proud abbot who had thwarted him, were it not for reverence of St. Edmund, whom he feared. When the messenger returned, the abbot very wisely pa.s.sed over the King's threats without notice, and said, "Let the King send, if he will, and seize the ward; he has the strength and power of doing his will, indeed of taking away the whole of the abbacy. I shall never be bent to his will in this matter, nor by me shall this ever be done. For the thing that is most to be apprehended is, lest such things be made a precedent to the prejudice of my successors. On this business I will never give the King money. Let the Most High look to it. Whatever may befall, I will patiently bear."

Whilst, therefore, many were saying and believing that the King was exasperated against the abbot, lo! the King wrote in a friendly way to the abbot, and requested that he would give him some of his dogs. The abbot, not unmindful of that saying of the wise man--

Gifts, believe me, influence both men and G.o.ds, By the offer of gifts Jove himself is appeased--