The Chronicle of Jocelin of Brakelond Part 8

sent the dogs as the King requested, and moreover, added some horses and other valuable gifts. The King graciously accepted them, and in public most highly commended the honesty and fidelity of the abbot.

He also sent to the abbot by his messengers, as a token of intimacy and affection, a ring of great price, which our lord the Pope, Innocent the Third, of his great grace had given him, being indeed the very first gift that had been offered after his consecration. Also, by his writ, the King rendered him many thanks for the presents the abbot had sent him.

CHAPTER XIII

THE CUSTOMS OF THE TOWNSHIP

Many persons marvelled at the changes in the customs that took place by the order or permission of the lord abbot Samson. From the time when the town of St. Edmund received the name and liberty of a borough, the men of every house used to give to the cellarer one penny in the beginning of August, to reap our corn, which annual payment was called rep-silver. Before the town became free, all of them used to reap as serfs; the dwellings of knights and chaplains, and of the servants of the court lodge being alone exempt from this payment. In process of time, the cellarer spared certain of the most wealthy of the town, demanding nothing from them. The other burgesses, seeing this, used openly to say that no one who had a dwelling house of his own was liable to pay this penny, but only those who rented houses from others.

Afterwards, they all in common sought this exemption, conferring thereon with the lord abbot, and offering an annual rent as a composition of this demand. The abbot, indeed, considering the undignified way in which the cellarer used to go through the town to collect rep-silver, and the manner in which he used to take distresses in the houses of the poor, sometimes taking trivets, sometimes doors, and sometimes other utensils, and how the old women came out with their distaffs, threatening and abusing the cellarer and his men, ordered that twenty shillings should be given every year to the cellarer at the next portman-moot, at the hand of the bailiff before August, by the burgesses, who were to pay the rent to discharge this.

And it was done accordingly, and confirmed by our charter, there being given to them another quittance from a certain customary payment, which is called sorpeni, in consideration of four shillings, payable at the same term. For the cellarer was accustomed to receive one penny by the year for every cow belonging to the men of the town for their dung and pasture (unless perchance they happened to be the cows of the chaplains or of the servants at the court lodge). These cows he used to impound, and had great trouble in the matter.

Afterwards, indeed, when the abbot made mention of this in the chapter, the convent was very angry, and took it in ill part, so much so that Benedict the sub-prior in the chapter, answering for all, said, "That man, abbot Ording, who lies there, would not have done such a thing for five hundred marks of silver." The abbot, although he himself felt angry, put off the matter for a time.

There arose also a great contention between Roger the cellarer and Hugh the sacrist concerning the appurtenances of their offices, so that the sacrist would not lend to the cellarer the prison of the town for the purpose of detaining therein the thieves who were taken in the cellarer's jurisdiction. The cellarer was thereby oftentimes hara.s.sed, and because the thieves escaped he was reprimanded for default of justice.

Now it came to pa.s.s that one holding as a free tenant of the cellarer, dwelling without the gate, by name Ketel, was charged with theft, and being vanquished in a trial by battle, was hanged. The convent was grieved by the offensive words of the burgesses, who said that if that man had only dwelt within the borough, it would not have come to the ordeal, but that he would have acquitted himself by the oaths of his neighbours, as is the privilege of those who dwell within the borough.

Therefore the abbot and the more reasonable part of the convent seeing this, and bearing in mind that the men without the borough as well as those within are ours, and ought all of them in like manner to enjoy the same liberty within the jurisdiction, except the villeins of Hardwick and their like, deliberately took thought with themselves how this could be done.

Thereupon the abbot, being desirous of limiting the offices of the sacristy and the cellary by certain articles, and of quieting all contentions, commanded, as if taking the part of the sacrist, that the servants of the town bailiff and the servants of the cellarer should together enter upon the fee of the cellarer for the purpose of seizing thieves and malefactors, and that the bailiff should have half the profit for their imprisonment and safe keeping and for his pains therein; and that the court of the cellarer should go to the portman-moot, and judge the prisoners in common. It was also ordered that the men of the cellarer should come to the toll-house with the others, and there renew their pledges, and should be inscribed upon the bailiff's roll, and should there give the bailiff that penny which is called borth-selver, whereof the cellarer was to have one half part; but at this time the cellarer receives nothing at all from this.

The intent of all this was, that every one should enjoy equal privilege. Nevertheless, the burgesses at this time say, that the dwellers in the outskirts ought not to be quit of toll in market, unless they belong to the merchant's guild. Moreover, the bailiff (the abbot conniving at the matter) now claims for himself the fines and forfeitures accruing from the fee of the cellarer.

The ancient customs of the cellarer, which we have seen, were these: The cellarer had his messuage and barns near Scurun's well, at which place he was accustomed to exercise his jurisdiction upon robbers, and hold his court for all pleas and plaints. Also at that place he was accustomed to put his men in pledge, and to enroll them and to renew their pledges every year, and to take such profit therefor as the bailiff of the town was to take at the portman-moot. This messuage, with the adjacent garden, now in the occupation of the infirmarer, was the mansion of Beodric, who was of old time the lord of this town, and after whom also the town came to be called Beodricsworth. His demesne lands are now in the demesne of the cellarer, and that which is now called averland was the land of his rustics. And the total amount of the holding of himself and his churls was thirty times thirty acres of land, which are still the fields of this town.

The service thereof, when the town was made free, was divided into two parts, so that the sacrist or town bailiff was to receive a free annual payment, namely, for each acre twopence. The cellarer was to have the ploughings and other services, namely, the ploughing of one rood for each acre, without meals (which custom is still observed), and was to have the folds wherein all the men of the town, except the steward, who has his own fold, are bound to put their sheep (which custom also is still observed); and was to have aver-peni, namely, for each thirty acres twopence (which custom was done away with before the decease of abbot Hugh, when Gilbert of Elveden was cellarer).

Furthermore, the men of the town were wont upon the order of the cellarer to go to Lakenheath, and bring back a day's catch of eels from Southrey. They often, indeed, used to return empty-handed, so they had their trouble without any profit to the cellarer. It was therefore settled between them that each thirty acres, from thenceforth, should pay one penny by the year, and the men were to remain at home. But, in fact, at this time, those lands are subdivided into so many parts, that it can hardly be ascertained by whom that annual payment is to be made; so that I have seen the cellarer, in one year, receive twenty-seven pence, but now he can hardly get tenpence halfpenny.

The cellarer was also wont to exercise authority over the ways without the town, so that it was not lawful for any one to dig for chalk or clay without his licence. He also was accustomed to summon the fullers of the town, that they should furnish cloth for his salt. Otherwise he would prohibit them the use of the waters, and would seize the webs he found there; which customs are still observed. Also, whosoever bought corn, or indeed anything from the cellarer, was accustomed to be quit from toll at the gate of the town when he went homewards, wherefore the cellarer sold his produce dearer; which usage is still observed.

Also, the cellarer is accustomed to take toll of flax at the time of its carrying, namely, one truss from each load. Also, the cellarer alone ought, or at least used to have, a free bull in the fields of the town; now many persons have bulls.

Also, when any one surrendered his burgage land in alms to the convent, and this was a.s.signed to the cellarer, or other official, that land used, thenceforth, to be quit of haggovele, and most especially so to the cellarer, on account of the dignity of his office, for he is the second father in the monastery, or even as a matter of reverence to the convent, for the estate of those who procure our provisions ought to be favourable. But the abbot says that usage is unjust, because the sacrist loses his service. Further, the cellarer was accustomed to warrant to the servants of the court lodge, that they should be quit of scot and tallage; but now it is not so, for the burgesses say that the servants of the court lodge ought to be quit only so far as they are servants, but not when they hold burgage in the town, and when they or their wives publicly buy and sell in the market.

Also, the cellarer was used freely to take all the dunghills in the street, for his own use, unless it were before the doors of those who were holding averland; for to them only was it allowable to collect dung, and to keep it. This custom gradually lapsed in the time of abbot Hugh until Dennis and Roger of Hingham became cellarers. Being desirous of reviving the ancient custom, they took the cars of the burgesses laden with dung, and made them unload; but a mult.i.tude of the burgesses resisting, and being too strong for them, every one in his own tenement now collects his dung in a heap, and the poor sell theirs when and to whom they choose.

The cellarer was also wont to have this privilege in the market of this town, that he and his purveyors should have pre-emption of all the provisions for the use of the convent, if the abbot were not at home. Also, that the purveyors of the abbot, or cellarer, whichever of them first came into the market, should buy first, either the latter without the former, or the former without the latter. But if both were present, then preference was to be given to the abbot. Also, in the season when herrings were sold, the purveyors of the abbot should always buy a hundred herrings at a halfpenny less than other people, and likewise the cellarer and his purveyors. Also, if a load of fish or other provisions should come first into the court lodge, or into the market, and that load should not have been discharged from the horse or from the cart, the cellarer or his purveyors might buy the whole and take it home with them without paying toll. But the abbot Samson commanded his purveyors that they should give preference to the cellarer and his men, because, as he himself said, he had much rather himself go without than his convent. Therefore the purveyors, "in honour preferring one another," if they find there is any one thing to be bought which is not enough for both parties, buy it between them, and divide it, share and share alike, and so between the head and the members, and the father and the sons, there remains an agreement in disagreement.

The poet has said, "Envy aims at the highest," and it is for this reason that I repeat these words, that when some one was perusing this narrative, and while he was reading of so many good acts, he called me a flatterer of the abbot, and a seeker of favour and grace, saying that I had silently suppressed some things which ought not to have been pa.s.sed by.

When I inquired which and what sort of acts they might be, he answered, "Do you not see how the abbot grants away, at his own good pleasure, the escheats of land belonging to the demesnes of the convent, and the female heirs of lands, and the widows, as well within the town of St. Edmund as without? Also, do you not see how the abbot draws to himself the plaints and pleas of those who demand by the King's writ lands which are of the fee of the convent, and especially those plaints from which profit arises; and those from which no gain ensues, he turns over to the cellarer or sacrist, or other officials?"

Whereto I answered, as I believe the fact to be, perhaps rightly, perhaps wrongly, and said that every lord of a fee whereto there is homage, ought by right to have an escheat whenever it shall have fallen within the fee in respect whereof he has received homage. By parity of reason, there is due to him general aid of the burgesses, and also the wardships of boys, and the gifts of widows and girls, in those fees in respect whereof he has received homage; for all these things seem to belong to the abbot alone, unless by chance the abbey shall be vacant.

Moreover, in the town of St. Edmund a special custom has place, by reason of its being a borough, that the next in blood shall have the wardship of a boy with an inheritance, until the years of discretion.

Furthermore, I thus answered him concerning the plaints and pleas, that I had never seen the abbot usurp jurisdiction that belonged to us, unless in default of our administering justice; but nevertheless, he had on some occasions taken money, in order that by the intervention of his authority plaints and pleas should attain their final determination. Also, I have sometimes seen pleas which belonged to us decided in the court of the abbot, because there was not any in the commencement of the suit who would, on the part of the convent, a.s.sert jurisdiction.

CHAPTER XIV

THE SHRINE OF ST. EDMUND

In the year of grace one thousand one hundred and ninety-eight, the glorious martyr Edmund was pleased to strike terror into our convent, and to instruct us that his body should be kept more reverently and diligently than it had hitherto been.

There was a wooden platform between the shrine and the high altar, whereon stood two tapers, which the keepers of the shrine used to renew and stick together, by placing one candle upon the stump of another in a slovenly manner. Under this platform there were many things irreverently huddled together, such as flax and thread and wax, and various utensils. In fact, whatever was used by the keepers of the shrine was put there, for there was a door with iron gratings.

Now, when these keepers of the shrine were fast asleep, on the night of St. Etheldreda, part of a candle that had been renewed, and was still burning, fell, as we conjecture, upon the aforesaid platform covered with rags. Consequently, all that was near, above or below, began to burn rapidly, so much so that the iron gratings were at a white heat. And lo! the wrath of the Lord was kindled, but not without mercy, according to that saying, "In wrath remember mercy"; for just then the clock struck before the hour of matins, and the master of the vestry getting up, observed and noticed the fire. He ran at once, and, striking the gong as if for a dead person, cried at the top of his voice that the shrine was consumed by fire.

We then, all running thither, found the fire raging wonderfully, and encircling the whole shrine, and almost reaching the woodwork of the church. Our young men, running for water, some to the well, some to the clock, some with their hoods, not without great labour, extinguished the force of the fire, and also stripped some of the altars upon the first alarm. And when cold water was poured upon the front of the shrine, the stones fell, and were reduced almost to powder. Moreover, the nails by which the plates of silver were affixed to the shrine started from the wood, which had been burnt underneath to the thickness of my finger, and the plates of silver were left dangling one from the other without nails. However, the golden image of the Majesty in front of the shrine, together with some of the stonework, remained firm and untouched, and brighter after the fire than it was before, for it was all of gold.

It so happened, by the will of the Highest, that at that time the great beam which used to be over the altar had been removed, in order to be adorned with new carving. It also happened that the cross, the small image of St. Mary and St. John, the chest with the shirt of St.

Edmund, and the reliquaries and other shrines which used to hang from the same beam, and other holy things which also stood upon the beam, had every one of them been previously taken away. Otherwise all these would have been burnt, as we believe, even as a painted cloth was burnt which hung in the place of this beam. But what would it have been had the church been curtained?

When, therefore, we had a.s.sured ourselves that the fire had in no place penetrated the shrine, by carefully inspecting the c.h.i.n.ks and crannies, if there were any, and had perceived that all was cold, our grief in a great measure abated: but all at once some of our brethren cried out with a great wailing, that the cup of St. Edmund had been burnt. When many of us were searching here and there for the stones and plates among the coals and cinders, they drew forth the cup entirely uninjured, lying in the middle of the great charred timbers, which were then put out, and found the same wrapped up in a linen cloth, half burnt. But the oaken box in which the cup was usually placed had been burnt to ashes, and only the iron bands and iron lock were found. When we saw this miracle, we all wept for joy.

Now, as we observed that the greater part of the front of the shrine was stripped off, and abhorring the disgraceful circ.u.mstances of the fire, after a general consultation we sent for a goldsmith, and caused the metal plates to be joined together and fixed to the shrine without the least delay, to avoid the scandal of the matter. We also caused all traces of the fire to be covered over with wax or in some other way. But the Evangelist testifies that "there is nothing covered which shall not be revealed": for some pilgrims came very early in the morning to make their offerings, who could have perceived nothing of the sort. Nevertheless, certain of them, peering about, inquired where was the fire that they had just heard had been about the shrine. And since it could not be entirely concealed, it was answered to these inquirers that a candle had fallen down and that three napkins had been burnt, and that by the heat of the fire some of the stonework in front of the shrine had been destroyed. Yet for all this there went forth a lying rumour, that the head of the saint had been burnt. Some indeed contented themselves with saying that the hair only was singed; but afterwards, the truth being known, "the mouth of them that spake lies was stopped."

All these things came to pa.s.s by G.o.d's providence, in order that the places round about the shrine of His saint should be more decently kept, and that the purpose of the lord abbot should be sooner and without delay carried into execution; which was, that the shrine itself, together with the body of the holy martyr, should be placed with greater security, and with more pomp, in a more dignified position. For before this aforesaid mishap occurred, the cresting of the shrine was half finished, and the marble blocks whereon the shrine was to be elevated and was to rest, were for the most part ready and polished.

The abbot, who at this time was absent, was exceedingly grieved at these reports; and he on his return home, going into the chapter-house, declared that these and the like, nay, much greater perils might befall us for our sins, more especially for our grumbling about our meat and drink; in a certain measure turning the blame upon the whole body of the convent, rather than upon the avarice and carelessness of the keepers of the shrine. To the intent that he might induce us to abstain from our pittances for at least one year, and to apply, for at least a year, the rents of the pittancy, for the purpose of repairing the front of the shrine with pure gold, he himself first showed us an example of liberality by giving all the treasure of gold he possessed, namely, fifteen golden rings, worth, as it was believed, sixty marks, in our presence, towards the reparation of the shrine.

We, on the other hand, all agreed to give our pittancy for such purpose; but our resolution was afterwards altered, by the sacrist saying that St. Edmund could very well repair his shrine without such a.s.sistance.

At this time there came a man of great account, but who he was I know not, that related to the abbot a vision he had seen, whereat he himself was much moved. Indeed, he related the same in full chapter, with a very bitter speech. "It is indeed true," he said, "that a certain great man has seen a vision, to wit, that he saw the holy martyr St. Edmund lie outside his shrine, and with groans say that he was despoiled of his clothes, and was wasted away by hunger and thirst; and that his churchyard and the courts of his church were negligently kept."

This dream the abbot expounded to us all publicly, laying the blame upon us, in this fashion: "St. Edmund alleges that he is naked, because you defraud the naked poor of your old clothes, and because you give with reluctance what you are bound to give them, and it is the same with your meat and drink. Moreover, the idleness and negligence of the sacrist and his a.s.sociates, are apparent from the recent misfortune by fire which has taken place between the shrine and the altar." On hearing this the convent was very sorrowful; and after chapter several of the brethren met together, and interpreted the dream after this fashion: "We," said they, "are the naked members of St. Edmund, and the convent is his naked body; for we are despoiled of our ancient customs and privileges. The abbot has everything, the chamberlainship, the sacristy, the cellary; while we perish of hunger and thirst, because we have not our victuals, save by the clerk of the abbot and by his ministration. If the keepers of the shrine have been negligent, let the abbot lay it to his own charge, for it was he who appointed such careless fellows."

In such wise spoke many in the convent. But when this interpretation of the dream was communicated to the abbot, in the forest of Harlow, on his way from London, he was very wroth, and was troubled in mind, and made answer: "They will wrest that dream against me, will they? By the face of G.o.d! so soon as I reach home I will restore to them the customs that they say are theirs. I will withdraw my clerk from the cellary, and will leave them to themselves; and I shall see the fruits of their wisdom at the end of the year. This year I have been residing at home, and I have caused their cellary to be managed without incurring debt; and this is the way in which they render me thanks."

On the abbot's return home, having it in purpose to translate the blessed martyr, he humbled himself before G.o.d and man, meditating within himself how he might reform himself, and make himself at peace with all men, especially with his own convent. Therefore, sitting in chapter, he commanded that a cellarer and sub-cellarer should be chosen by our common a.s.sent, and withdrew his own clerk, saying, that whatsoever he had done he had done it for our advantage, as he called G.o.d and his saints to witness, and justified himself in various ways.

"Hear, O Heaven!" the things that I speak; "give ear, O earth!" to what Abbot Samson did. The feast of St. Edmund now approaching, the marble blocks were polished, and everything made ready for the elevation of the shrine. The feast day having therefore been kept on a Friday, a three days' fast was proclaimed on the following Sunday to the people, and the occasion of the fast was publicly explained. The abbot also announced to the convent that they should prepare themselves for transferring the shrine, and placing it upon the high altar, until the masons' work was finished; and he appointed the time and the manner for doing this work.

When we had that night come to matins, there stood the great shrine upon the altar, empty within, adorned with white doeskins above, below, and round about, which were fixed to the wood by silver nails; but one panel stood below, by a column of the church, and the sacred body still lay in its accustomed place. Lauds having been sung, we all proceeded to take our disciplines. This being performed, the lord abbot and those with him vested themselves in albs; and approaching reverently, as it was fit they should, they hastened to uncover the coffin.

First there was an outer cloth of linen, overwrapping the coffin and all. This was found tied on the upper side with strings of its own.

Within this was a cloth of silk, and then another linen cloth, and then a third. And so at last the coffin was uncovered, standing upon a tray of wood, that the bottom of it might not be injured by the stone.

Affixed to the outside, over the breast of the martyr, lay an angel of gold, about the length of a man's foot, holding in one hand a golden sword and in the other a banner. Underneath it, there was a hole in the lid of the coffin, where the ancient custodians of the martyr had been wont to lay their hands, for the purpose of touching the sacred body. And over the figure of the angel was this verse inscribed:--

"Martiris ecce zoma servat Michaelis agalma."

("_Behold the martyr's body St. Michael's image keeps._")