FOOTNOTES:[3]Mr. Coates says that the Society of Guild Merchants of Reading was undoubtedly very ancient, existing before the foundation of the Abbey, and claiming a charter or grant of privileges from Edward the Confessor.This is proved by a statement made by the Mayor and commonalty in time of Richard II., before the king's justices of peace at Reading, in opposition to some of the claims of the Abbot, with whom the authorities of the town were always quarrelling.[4]1545—By Statute 37 Henry VIII., An Act for dissolution of colleges, it was recited that divers colleges, free chapels, chantries, hospitals, fraternities, brotherhoods, guilds, and stipendary priests, "having perpetuity for ever," had misapplied the possessions thereof in various ways; and it was then enacted that all the same be dissolved and the proceeds applied for supporting the king's expenses in wars, etc., and for the maintenance of the crown, etc.The advisers of Edward VI. promptly availed themselves of this as a pretext for plunder.
[3]Mr. Coates says that the Society of Guild Merchants of Reading was undoubtedly very ancient, existing before the foundation of the Abbey, and claiming a charter or grant of privileges from Edward the Confessor.This is proved by a statement made by the Mayor and commonalty in time of Richard II., before the king's justices of peace at Reading, in opposition to some of the claims of the Abbot, with whom the authorities of the town were always quarrelling.
[3]Mr. Coates says that the Society of Guild Merchants of Reading was undoubtedly very ancient, existing before the foundation of the Abbey, and claiming a charter or grant of privileges from Edward the Confessor.
This is proved by a statement made by the Mayor and commonalty in time of Richard II., before the king's justices of peace at Reading, in opposition to some of the claims of the Abbot, with whom the authorities of the town were always quarrelling.
[4]1545—By Statute 37 Henry VIII., An Act for dissolution of colleges, it was recited that divers colleges, free chapels, chantries, hospitals, fraternities, brotherhoods, guilds, and stipendary priests, "having perpetuity for ever," had misapplied the possessions thereof in various ways; and it was then enacted that all the same be dissolved and the proceeds applied for supporting the king's expenses in wars, etc., and for the maintenance of the crown, etc.The advisers of Edward VI. promptly availed themselves of this as a pretext for plunder.
[4]1545—By Statute 37 Henry VIII., An Act for dissolution of colleges, it was recited that divers colleges, free chapels, chantries, hospitals, fraternities, brotherhoods, guilds, and stipendary priests, "having perpetuity for ever," had misapplied the possessions thereof in various ways; and it was then enacted that all the same be dissolved and the proceeds applied for supporting the king's expenses in wars, etc., and for the maintenance of the crown, etc.
The advisers of Edward VI. promptly availed themselves of this as a pretext for plunder.
?
The Scouring of the White Horse
By E.R. Gardiner, m.a.
Thestory of our village feasts, and of the way in which the rude forefathers of the hamlet were wont to enjoy themselves, forms a chapter in our manners and customs which cannot but have considerable interest to the student of bygone times. One of the most interesting relics of this kind pertains to the County of Berks. Upon White Horse Hill in that county, there used to be celebrated at stated intervals a feast known throughout the countryside as "The Scouring of the White Horse." This has been so admirably and exhaustively treated by Judge Hughes, Q.C. (Tom Brown) in his well-known book on the subject that it is almost hopeless for anyone writing on the same topic to do otherwise than follow in his wake.
GROUND PLAN
SKETCH GROUND PLAN OF THE WHITE HORSE.
A few words on the history of the White Horse of Berkshire seem necessary as an introduction to the subject, although its origin, like that of the old historic earldom of Mar,seems to be lost in the mists of antiquity. White Horse Hill is the highest point of the range of chalk hills which the traveller by rail sees on his left hand as he journeys down the Great Western Railway between Didcot and Swindon, and is plainly seen as he approaches Uffington Station. Its summit reaches the height of 856 feet, and commands an extensive view over what is known as the Vale of White Horse, no less than eleven counties being, so it is said, visible therefrom. It derives its name from the rude figure of a horse cut out in the chalk on the north-west side of the hill, some 374 feet long, and with its outline marked by trenches ten feet wide, cut two or three feet deep in the turf to the white subsoil. A very common tradition ascribes its formation to King Alfred, in memory of his decisive victory over the Danes at the battle of Æcesdun, something over a thousand years ago. The tradition has no doubt arisen from the fact that the Saxon standard was a White Horse, the well-known names of Hengist and Horsa being probably mere forms of this ensign. If this were the only turf carving of a similar character to be found in England, there might be a good deal to say in favour of thistradition. But such figures are not rare, and some of them have, for cogent reasons into which we have not space to enter, been attributed to times far more remote than those of Saxon and Dane. With regard to this particular turf-carving, although we may allow the horse to have been the Saxon standard, and that King Alfred, in setting up "his banner for a token," would only have been following ancient practice, yet, plausible as this may sound, it would have been far more in accordance with what we might have expected had he set up a cross to commemorate his victory. In fact, not so very far away, in the hamlet of Monks Risborough in the Chiltern Hills, there is a hill figure of a cross, nearly a hundred feet in height, which, with quite as good if not better reason, is conjectured to be a memorial set up by Alfred, to record a victory over the Danes at Bledlow. And further, the figure of a horse as a badge or device is far older than Saxon times, for on a coin of Cunobelin (the Cymbeline of Shakespeare), who reigned in Britain,A.D.40, the figure of a horse on its reverse is very similar to the turf-carving with which we are dealing. Indeed, there is much more in favour of these hill-side figures being of adate far anterior to Saxon or Roman times. For to the right below White Horse Hill is a high mound known as the Dragon Hill upon a piece of ground at the top of which grass does not grow. Here was ample scope for a tradition, which, coupled with the name of the Hill, developed into the story that this was the identical spot on which St. George (or "King Gaarge," according to the rustics) slew the Dragon, and that no verdure ever grew on the place over which its poisonous blood flowed. But unfortunately this derivation collapses when it is found that the name of the Hill should be Pend-ragon, which, in Celtic, signifies "Chief of Kings," and was, as Mr. Wise points out in his letter to Dr. Mead, written in 1736, the common appellation of a British King constituted such by vote in times of public distress. Thus, as we learn from Cæsar's Commentaries Cassibelan was chosen Pendragon by the allies at the time of Julius Cæsar's invasion. So much then for the history and traditions of the White Horse.
The festival called the "Scouring," about which we are more immediately concerned, is, comparatively speaking, a manageable subject, although the aforementioned Mr. Wise, writing150 years ago, speaks of it as a ceremony, which, "from time immemorialhas been solemnized by a numerous concourse of people from all the villages round about." The importance which he attaches to it seems to us at this time of day a trifle exaggerated, for, after appealing to all persons who have a regard for ancient customs whether such a solemnity would not deserve the countenance of the nobility and gentry, a sentiment in which many will heartily join, he goes on to suggest that if the festival were solemnized at regular intervals, say of four years, the common people would use it as a mode of reckoning their time, which would then very properly be done by speaking of the 2nd, 3rd, or 4th year of the Scouring of the Horse: and not only this, but the worthy author goes on to say he should not despair of its creating a new era in English history, viz.,The Restoration of the Saxon Olympics. Here surely we have enthusiasm gone mad.
The first Scouring, according to Judge Hughes,Q.C.(who is reallytheauthoritypar excellenceon the subject), about which there is any authentic information, was held in 1755, and the sports then appeared to be pretty much the same as those heldabout a century later. The chief prize for backsword play, or cudgel play, as it was sometimes called, was won by a stranger, who appeared in the garb of a gentleman, and who held his own against all the old "gamesters," as the backsword players who had won or shared a first prize at any revel, were then called. As soon as he had won the prize, he jumped on his horse, and rode off. There was some speculation as to who he might be, and presently it was whispered about that he was Tim Gibbons, of Lambourn, who had not been seen for some years, and about whom some strange stories had been afloat. A descendant of his, a native of Wodstone, a village which nestles at the foot of the White Horse, gave the following account of his ancestor:—"Timothy Gibbons, my great-grandvather, you see, sir, foller'd blacksmithing at Lambourn, till he took to highway robbin', but I can't give 'ee no account o' when or wher'. Arter he'd been out, maybe dree or vour year, he and two companions cum to Baydon; and whilst hiding theirselves and waiting their hopes in a barn, the constables got ropes round the barn-yard and lined 'em in. Then all dree drawed cuts[5]who was to go out fust and face theconstables. It fell to Tim's two companions to go fust, but their hearts failed 'em, and they wouldn't go. So Tim cried out as 'he'd show 'em what a Englishman could do,' and mounted his hos and drawed his cutlash, and cut their lines a-two, and galloped off clean away; but I understood as t'other two was took. Arter that, maybe a year or two, he cum down to a pastime on White Hoss Hill, and won the prize at backswording; and when he took his money, fearing lest he should be knowed, he jumped on his hoss under the stage, and galloped right off, and I don't know as he ever cum again to these parts. Then I've understood as things thrve wi' 'un as 'um will at times, sir, wi' they sort o' chaps, and he and his companions built the inn called 'The Magpies' on Hounslow Heath; but I dwon't know as ever he kep' the house hisself, except it med ha' been for a short while. Howsomever, at last he was took drinking at a public house somewheres up Hounslow way, wi' a companion, who played a crop wi' 'un, and I b'liev' a' was hanged at Newgate. But I never understood as he killed anybody, sir, and a'd used to gie some o' the money as he took to the poor, if he know'd they was in want."
The next Scouring, of which there seems to beany record, took place in 1776, concerning which the following printed handbill was published:—
"White Horse Hill, Berks, 1776.The scowering and cleansing of the White Horse is fixed for Monday, the 27th day of May; on which day a Silver Cup will be run for near White Horse Hill, by any horse, &c., that never run for anything, carrying 11 stone, the best of 3 two-mile heats, to start at 10 o'clock.Between the heats will be run for by poneys a Saddle Bridle and Whip; the best of 3 two-mile heats, the winner of 2 heats will be entitled to the saddle, the second best the Bridle, and the third the Whip.The same time a Thill Harness will be run for by cart horses, &c., in their harness and bells, the carters to ride in smock frocks without saddles, crossing and jostling, but no whipping allowed.A Flitch of Bacon to be run for by asses.A good Hat to be run for by men in sacks, every man to bring his own sack.A Waistcoat, 10s. 6d. value, to be given to the person who shall take a bullet out of a tub of flour with his mouth in the shortest time.A cheese to be run for down the White Horse Manger.Smocks to be run for by ladies, the second best of each prize to be entitled to a Silk Hat.Cudgel playingfor agold-laced Hatand a pair of buckskin Breeches, andWrestlingfor a pair of silver Buckles and a pair of Pumps.The horses to be on the White Horse Hill by nine o'clock.No less than four horses, &c., or asses to start for any of the above prizes."
"White Horse Hill, Berks, 1776.
The scowering and cleansing of the White Horse is fixed for Monday, the 27th day of May; on which day a Silver Cup will be run for near White Horse Hill, by any horse, &c., that never run for anything, carrying 11 stone, the best of 3 two-mile heats, to start at 10 o'clock.
Between the heats will be run for by poneys a Saddle Bridle and Whip; the best of 3 two-mile heats, the winner of 2 heats will be entitled to the saddle, the second best the Bridle, and the third the Whip.
The same time a Thill Harness will be run for by cart horses, &c., in their harness and bells, the carters to ride in smock frocks without saddles, crossing and jostling, but no whipping allowed.
A Flitch of Bacon to be run for by asses.
A good Hat to be run for by men in sacks, every man to bring his own sack.
A Waistcoat, 10s. 6d. value, to be given to the person who shall take a bullet out of a tub of flour with his mouth in the shortest time.
A cheese to be run for down the White Horse Manger.
Smocks to be run for by ladies, the second best of each prize to be entitled to a Silk Hat.
Cudgel playingfor agold-laced Hatand a pair of buckskin Breeches, andWrestlingfor a pair of silver Buckles and a pair of Pumps.
The horses to be on the White Horse Hill by nine o'clock.
No less than four horses, &c., or asses to start for any of the above prizes."
Then came a Scouring on Whit Monday, May 15th, 1780, and of the doings on that occasion there is the following notice in theReading Mercury, of May 22nd, 1780:—"The ceremony of scowering and cleansing that noble monument of Saxon antiquity, the White Horse, was celebrated on Whit Monday, with great joyous festivity. Besides the customary diversions of horse racing, foot races, etc., many uncommon rural diversions and feats of activity were exhibited to a greater number of spectators than ever assembled on any former occasion. Upwards of thirty thousand persons were present, and amongst them most of the nobility and gentry of this and the neighbouring counties; and the whole was concluded without any material accident. The origin of this remarkable piece of antiquity is variously related; but most authors describe it as a monument to perpetuate some signal victory, gained near the spot, by some of our most ancient Saxon princes. The space occupied by this figure is more than an acre of ground."
There was also a list of the games, which was the same as that in 1776, excepting that in addition there was "a jingling-match by eleven blind-folded men, and one unmaskedand hung with bells, for a pair of buckskin breeches."
An old man, William Townsend by name, whose father, one Warman Townsend, had run down the manger after the fore-wheel of a waggon, and won the cheese at this scouring, told the story, as his father had told it to him, how that "eleven on 'em started, and amongst 'em a sweep chimley and a millurd; and the millurd tripped up the sweep chimley and made the soot flee a good 'un;" and how "the wheel ran pretty nigh down to the springs that time."
WHITE HORSE HILL
WHITE HORSE HILL.
The next Scouring seems to have been held in 1785, concerning which one William Ayres of Uffington, aged about 84 years, in 1857 made the following statements:—"When I were a buoy about ten years old I remembers I went up White Hoss Hill wi' my vather to a pastime. Vather'd brewed a barrel o' beer to sell on the Hill—a deal better times than now—Augh! bless 'ee, a man medn't brew and sell his own beer now: and oftentimes he can't get nothin' fit to drink at thaay little beer-houses as is licensed, nor at some of the public-houses too for that matter. But 'twur not only for that as the times wur better then—But I be gandering shureenough,—well now, there wur Varmer Mifflin's mare run for and won a new cart-saddle and thill-tugs—the mare's name wurDuke. As many as a dozen or moor horses run, and they started from Idle's bush, which were a vine owld tharnin'-tree in thay days—a very nice bush. They started from Idle's bush, as I tell 'ee, and raced up to the Rudge-waay; and Varmer Mifflin's mare had it all one way, and beeat all the t'other on 'um holler. The pastime then wur a good 'un a wonderful sight o' folk of all sorts, rich and poor. John Morse of Uffington, a queerish sort of a man, grinned agin another chap droo' hos collars, but John got beeat—a fine bit o' spwoort to be shure, and meead the volks laaf. Another geeam wur to bowl a cheese down the Mainger, and the first as could catch 'un had 'un. The cheese was a tough 'un and held together, a did I assure 'ee, but thaay as tasted 'un said a warn't very capital arter all. Then were running for a peg too, and they as could ketch 'un and hang 'un up by the tayl had 'un. The girls, too run races for smocks—a deal of pastime to be sure. Then wur climmin' a grasy pole for a leg of mutton, too: and backsoordin', and wrastlin', and all that, ye knows. A man by the name of Blackford,from the low countries, Zummersetshire, or that waay someweres, he won the prize, and wur counted the best hand for years arter, and no man couldn't break his yead; but at last, nigh on about twenty years arter, I'll warn 'twer—at Shrin'um Revel, Harry Stanley, the landlord o' the Blawin Stwun, broke his yead, and the low-country men seemed afeard o' Harry round about here for long arter that. Varmer Smallbwones, of Sparsholt, a mazin' stout man, and one as scarce no one, go where 'a would, could drow down, beeat all the low-country chaps at wrastlin', and none could stan' agean 'un. And so he got the neam o' Varmer Great-Bwones. 'Twur only when he got a drap o' beer a leetle too zoon, as he were drowed at wrastlin', but they never drowed 'un twice, and he had the best men come agean 'un for miles. This wur the first pastime as I well remembers, but there med ha' been some afore, for all as I knows. I ha' got a good memorandum, and minds things well when I wur a buoy, that I does. I ha' helped to dress the White Hoss myself, and a deal o' work 'tis to do 't, as should be, I can assure 'ee. About Claay Hill, 'twixt Fairford and Ziziter, I've many a time looked back at 'un, and a' looks as nat'ral as a pictur'."
Between 1785 and 1803 there were probably at least two Scourings about which no reliable information seems to have been obtained.
At the Scouring of 1803 Beckingham of Baydon won the prize at wrestling; Flowers and Ellis from Somersetshire won the prize at backsword play; the waiter at the Bell Inn, Faringdon, won the cheese race and at jumping in sacks; and Thomas Street of Niton won the prize for grinning through horse-collars, but it was said "a man from Woodlands would ha' beeat, only he'd got no teeth. This geaam made the congregation laaf 'mazingly."
Then came a Scouring in 1808, at which the Hanney men came down in a strong body and made sure of winning the prize for wrestling. But all the other gamesters leagued against them, and at last their champion, Belcher, was thrown by Fowler of Baydon. Two men, "with very shiny top-boots, quite gentlemen, from London," won the prize for backsword play, one of which gentlemen was Shaw, the Lifeguardsman, said to be a Wiltshire man himself, who afterwards died at Waterloo. A new prize was given at this pastime, viz., a gallon of gin or half-a-guinea for the woman who would smoke most tobacco in anhour. Only two gipsy-women entered, and it seems to have been a very blackguardly business, but it is the only instance of the sort on record.
There seems to be some doubt as to the date of the next Scouring, which was either in 1812 or 1813, but Judge Hughes thinks it was most probably in the latter year, because the clerk of Kingston Lisle, an old Peninsula man, told him that he was at home on leave in that year, and that there was to be a Scouring, and all the people were talking about it when he had to go back to the wars. At this Scouring there was a prize of a loaf, made out of a bushel of flour, for running up the Manger, which was won by Philip New, of Kingston-in-the-Hole, who cut the great loaf into pieces at the top, and sold the pieces for a penny a piece. The low-country men won the first backsword prize, and one Ford, of Ashbury, the second; and the Baydon men won the prize for wrestling. One Henry Giles had wrestled for the prize, but it is supposed took too much beer afterwards; at any rate he fell into the canal on his way home, and was drowned.
The next Scouring, about which any record is found, did not take place till 1825, and it seems to have been the largest gathering there has everbeen. The games were held at the Seven Barrows, which are distant two miles in a south-easterly direction from the White Horse, instead of in Uffington Castle, for some reason which does not appear. These seven barrows are popularly supposed to be the burial places of the principal men who were killed at Ashdown.
After this there was no Scouring till 1838, when, on the 19th and 20th of September, the old custom was revived under the patronage of Lord Craven. TheReading Mercurysays that no more auspicious year could have been chosen for the revival "than that in which our youthful and beloved Queen first wore the British Crown, and in which an heir was born to the ancient and noble house of Craven, whom God preserve."
The next took place in September, 1843, about which it is recorded that the Berkshire and Wiltshire men, under Joe Giles, of Shrivenham, got the better of the Somersetshire men led by Simon Stone at backsword play; and then were two men who came down from London, who won the wrestling prize away from the countrymen. There seems to have been some difficulty in getting the elephant's caravan up the Hill, for Wombwell's menagerie came down for theScouring, and, though four-and-twenty horses were put to, it stuck fast four or five times. It does not seem to have struck the Berkshire folk that it would have been simpler to turn the elephant out and make him pull his own caravan up.
In September, 1857, was celebrated the festival so admirably described by Judge Hughes in his book, "The Scouring of the White Horse," to which we would refer our readers.
Of subsequent Scourings there is little or no record, village festivals having fallen gradually into disuse through the advent of railways and other means of communication with the outer world. The last took place in 1892, and was undertaken at the sole expense of Lady Craven, of Ashdown Park, the Horse having become so obliterated by neglect that its outline could scarcely be traced even at a few miles distance. It was unaccompanied by any festivities whatever.
FOOTNOTES:[5]Drew lots.
[5]Drew lots.
[5]Drew lots.
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The Last of the Abbots
Thereare few sadder stories than that of Hugh Farringdon, 31st mitred abbot of the great Abbey of Reading. One of the foremost ecclesiastics in the kingdom at the time of his terrible death, even in Henry VIII.'s reign of terror, few men fell so far, so suddenly, and so fatally.
An Abbot of Reading was a member of the House of Lords. He had a revenue with his abbey, amounting to well nigh £20,000 per annum at the present day; one of the most charming country residences conceivable at Pangbourne, Bere Place, which still retains some few relics of its abbot owners; and, in the abbey itself; an abode whose magnificence, even amidst those grand ruins, we very feebly realise. The abbey precincts were at least thirty acres, in the midst of which the great church arose in size and grandeur not far short of that of Canterbury Cathedral itself.
The earlier portion of his abbacy seems to havebeen tranquil and happy. We read of no such grave disputes as in the case of Abbot Thorne. That 28th abbot seems to have carried fully out his name and crest. He was a thorn in many sides. We read of bitter complaints how he seized on the revenues of the Hospital for Poor Widows, and appropriated them to the uses of the Almoner of the abbey, and not content with this, laid hands also on St. Edmond's Chapel, which then stood at the end of Friar Street, which he made into a barn.
The 31st abbot was a very different man from the 28th. He had more of Mary than of Martha in him, as an old chronicler remarks somewhere of somebody else. There is reason to believe that he was a most amiable character. Mr. Kelly in his History of St. Lawrence has discovered the following interesting record of him amongst the receipts for pew rents:—
"1520. Setis—Item of my lord abbot for his moder's sete iiij d.""A touching entry," says Mr. Kelly; "Hugh Faringdon, on his promotion to the abbey, though a man of humble extraction, did not forget to provide for the comfort of his poor aged mother."
"1520. Setis—Item of my lord abbot for his moder's sete iiij d."
"A touching entry," says Mr. Kelly; "Hugh Faringdon, on his promotion to the abbey, though a man of humble extraction, did not forget to provide for the comfort of his poor aged mother."
It is true Leland speaks of him as an "illiterate monk." "Hugh Cook was a stubborn monk,absolutely without learning." Of course he was a monk, that goes without saying. With regard to his "stubbornness," there may be two opinions. As for being "absolutely without learning," he appears to have been one of those admirable in every age, who have raised themselves from a low rank to a high one by sheer force of character. A poor boy may still become Lord Chancellor or Archbishop of Canterbury.
He appears not to have had educational advantages. He deplores this in a letter of much dignified modesty. He had occasion to correspond with the University of Oxford. The Oxford authorities seem to have been in need of some stone from a quarry of the abbey, and had addressed a polite request to him. He "returns thanks to the University for considering him in the number of those learned persons who had been members of that learned body," but speaks of himself as one who had not the least pretences to that character. He styles himself a man of no erudition; laments that the fates had denied him the advantages of instruction in his youth, and states that he is still anxious to become a member of the University, and apply himself to that course of study which would suit hiscapacity, now become dull and feeble by length of years.
He was evidently a patron of learned men. Leonard Cox, Master of the Reading School, which, thanks to Henry VII., had been established in St. Lawrence's Hospice rescued from Abbot Thorne, dedicates his "Art of Rhetorick," 1539, to this last of the abbots.
He seems also to have been a good administrator, and an active magistrate, and we read of him as taking his place at the Bench at "Okingham," on 11th July, 1534, as one of the Justices of the Peace for the county. More than this he was a religious man. He took care that the Bible was read daily in the abbey. Dr. London, one of the commissionaries for dissolving the Monastery and Friary, reports to his superior, Lord Cromwell:—
"They have a gudde lecture in scripture daily redde in the chapter house, both in Inglishe and Latin, to the which is gudde resort, and the abbot is at it himself."
"They have a gudde lecture in scripture daily redde in the chapter house, both in Inglishe and Latin, to the which is gudde resort, and the abbot is at it himself."
When the commissioners arrived, he does not seem to have opposed them, or held back anything. Dr. London at first reports favourably:—
"I have requested of my lord abbot the relics of his house, which he seledeted unto me with gudde will. Ihave taken an inventory of them, and have locked them up beside the high altar, and have the key in my keeping, and they be ready at your lordship's commandment."
"I have requested of my lord abbot the relics of his house, which he seledeted unto me with gudde will. Ihave taken an inventory of them, and have locked them up beside the high altar, and have the key in my keeping, and they be ready at your lordship's commandment."
Abbot Hugh made no resistance, and it might have been supposed the abbey would have escaped at least as well as the Friary; the Grayfriars having nothing to lose, were simply turned out into the street with a scanty pension, and their church given to the town for a town hall. How was it, then, that such a cruel fate overtook the principal monks here, for two others died with Hugh Faringdon on the same charge of high treason? Stowe says it was for denying the King's supremacy.
"The Act of Suppression passed in May, 1539, and in November following he was drawn, hanged, and quartered with two of his monks. The same day the Abbot of Glastonbury was executed, and shortly after the Abbot of Colchester."
"The Act of Suppression passed in May, 1539, and in November following he was drawn, hanged, and quartered with two of his monks. The same day the Abbot of Glastonbury was executed, and shortly after the Abbot of Colchester."
It is here we get a clue, I think, to this extreme severity; these three leading Churchmen had all got involved in a treason plot. The Pilgrimage of Grace had very recently been suppressed. It had been assisted with money by various monasteries, and it would seem that these three great houses were specially compromised. Froude states this distinctly, speakingin the first instance of the Abbot of Glastonbury (History of England, Vol. III., ch. 16, p. 240):—
"An order went out for enquiry into his conduct, which was to be executed by three of the visitors, Layton, Pollard, and Moyle. On 16 September (1539) they were at Reading, on the 22nd they had arrived at Glastonbury ... the Abbot was placed in charge of a guard, and sent to London, to the Tower, to be examined by Cromwell himself, when it was discovered that both he and the Abbot of Reading had supplied the northern insurgent with moneys."
"An order went out for enquiry into his conduct, which was to be executed by three of the visitors, Layton, Pollard, and Moyle. On 16 September (1539) they were at Reading, on the 22nd they had arrived at Glastonbury ... the Abbot was placed in charge of a guard, and sent to London, to the Tower, to be examined by Cromwell himself, when it was discovered that both he and the Abbot of Reading had supplied the northern insurgent with moneys."
For this there could be no pardon. The insurrection had been too nearly successful. The principal leaders had suffered, and now their three supporters followed. Hugh Faringdon had not allowed the King's supremacy, but this might have been overlooked; he had been very favourably reported by London to Cromwell. But now the law took its course, that horrible and terrible death assigned to high treason.
Froude describes the aged Abbot of Colchester drawn through the town that dismal November morning; dragged to the top of Glastonbury Torre, there hanged, drawn, and quartered. It cannot be doubted that an equally ghastly scene was enacted at Reading. As accomplices in both instances, two monks were executed along with their principal.
The execution is supposed to have taken place here in front of the inner gateway, which still survives, and is a place of resort for the Berkshire Archæological Society. It may equally well have been at Gallows Common beyond Christ Church which was for long the ordinary place for executions. It would appear from St. Mary's registers that even in the eighteenth century twice in the year batches of prisoners were sent off there to the gallows: if so, the long and sad procession, as at Glastonbury, would traverse the whole length of the town. It was a most awful reverse of fortune. Both in 1532, and in 1535, we read of his receiving a gilt cup from the king as a New Year's present. He had even been on the commission for investigating how a manifesto from the leader of the insurrection in Yorkshire had got into circulation at Reading; but that fatal gift of money, which Cromwell had traced home to the Abbot of Glastonbury, and also to Abbot Hugh, was an act beyond pardon. He had been the king's favourite abbot, but was now convicted of high treason, and the sentence took its course.
"He leaves a name which long time will availTo point a moral, and adorn a tale."
Siege of Reading.
Siege of Reading.
"Full soon the curse of Civil WarCame all our harmless sports to mar:When law and order ceased to reign,And knaves did eat up honest men;When brother against brother stoodAnd all the land was drenched in blood."—"Donnington Castle."
INNER GATEWAY
THE INNER GATEWAY, READING.
"Whata glorious thing must be a victory Sir!" an enthusiastic young lady once exclaimed to the Iron Duke. "The greatest tragedy in the world," he replied, "Madam, except a defeat!" A siege is bad enough: an interesting thing to read and tell of, but, though it only lasted ten days, an event burned deep into the memories of Reading; replete with all but ruin to very many of her citizens; and entirely destroying for all time that town's once famous cloth-trade. As the tide of war ebbed and flowed along the Thames valley, now one side was uppermost, and now the other, and, in either case, it was "woe to the vanquished." One time there were the king's demands, then presently those of the Parliamentary party; fines followed levied unmercifully on recusants asalso loans wrung from, at length, unwilling supporters. A letter, still in the town archives, gives a vivid picture of the position of very many in those days in Berkshire and in Oxfordshire. It is a letter from G. Varney to the Town Clerk of Reading, not dated except from the prison into which the soldiers had cast him:—
"Going," says Varney, "to market with a load of corn, the Earl of Manchester's soldiers met with my men, and took away my whole team of horses, letting my cart stand in the field four miles from home; and I never had them more. When the king's soldiers come to us they call me Roundheaded rogue, and say I pay rent to the Parliament garrison, and they will take it away from me; and likewise the Parliament soldiers, they vapour with me, and tell me that I pay rent to Worcester and Winchester, therefore the Parliament say they will have the rent."
"Going," says Varney, "to market with a load of corn, the Earl of Manchester's soldiers met with my men, and took away my whole team of horses, letting my cart stand in the field four miles from home; and I never had them more. When the king's soldiers come to us they call me Roundheaded rogue, and say I pay rent to the Parliament garrison, and they will take it away from me; and likewise the Parliament soldiers, they vapour with me, and tell me that I pay rent to Worcester and Winchester, therefore the Parliament say they will have the rent."
Still more pathetic is the petition to Parliament that presently was made: "That, since the time the two armies came into the town, your petitioners have had their sufferings multiplied upon them; the soldiers going to that height of insolence that they break down our houses and burn them, take away our goods and sell them, rob our markets and spoil them, threaten our magistrates and beat them; so that, without a speedy redress, we shall be constrained, though to our utter undoing, yet for the preservation of ourlives, to forsake our goods and habitations, and leave the town to the will of the soldiers; who cry out they have no pay, have no beds, have no fire; and they must and will have it by force, or they will burn down all the houses in the town whatever become of them."
Such was the state of things which the mayor, with his twelve aldermen and twelve councillors of that day, had to grapple with: and a very difficult matter, as we shall see, he found it. Things were coming to a crisis here in 1643, in the April of which the ten-days' siege occurred; but they had long been leading up to this.
In 1636 the town was deeply stirred on the subject of ship-money; one party carried a resolution: "They who deny payment of ship-money to be proceeded against as the council of the corporation shall direct;" a little later another party seems to have got the uppermost, and the entry in 1641: "Agreed that those persons within the town which were distressed for ship-money shall have their moneys repaid them."
At first the Parliamentary Party were in the ascendency; then 1642 came. Edgehill was fought 23rd October, then the king took Banbury, and then marched upon Reading. HenryMartin,M.P., afterwards the regicide, had been appointed by the Parliament governor of Reading; but, upon the royal advance, at once withdrew with his small garrison and fled to London. The king arrived here on November 4th, from which time matters certainly became sufficiently exciting.
"The game of Civil War will not allowBays to the victor's brow.At such a game what fool would venture in,Where one must lose, yet neither side can win?"—Cowley.
Yet every day saw the game played more and more in earnest. Charles reached Reading, 4th November, 1642, having sent on the following missive on the previous day: "Whereas I have received information that the bridge on the river Thames at Causham was lately broke down, our Will and express Command is that ye immediately upon sight hereof cause the said bridge to be rebuilt, and made strong and fit for the passage of our army by time 8 of the clock in the morning as the bearer shall direct; of this you may not fail at your utmost peril."
The mayor at this time was a firm royalist. One of the Diurnals of the other side thus records his endeavours: "At the king's comingto Reddinge a speech was made unto him by the mayor of the town, wherein after he had in the best words he could devise bid him welcome thither, for want of more matter he concluded very abruptly." This is malicious enough, but nothing to the story that follows: "Not long after he invited Prince Robert (sic) to dine, providing for him all the dainties that he could get, but especially a woodcock, which he brought in himself. Prince Robert gave him many thanks for his good cheer, and asked him whose was all that plate that stood upon the cupboard? The mayor, who had set out all his plate to make a show, and besides had borrowed a great deal of his neighbours to grace himself withal, replied, 'And please your Highness the plate is mine!' 'No!' quoth the prince, 'this plate is mine,' and so accordingly he took it all away; bidding him be of good cheer, for he took it, as the Parliament took it, upon the public faith."
Lord Saye and Sele, just before, however, had carried off two large baskets, full of the Christ Church plate, at Oxford, for parliamentry purposes.
Now almost every day has its event, and dates must be regarded.
November 8th.—The town is startled by aperemptory order to impress all the tailors in Reading, and within six miles round, to make clothes for the garrison, with which they are to be honoured; Sir Arthur Ashton is appointed governor, with a salary from the town of £7 per week; he is soon able to lend the poor corporation £100. At once he begins to fortify; all are forced to assist; those who do not come to work being fined 7d. per day; forts and chains are placed at the end of every street, and the Oracle, or cloth factory at once is utilized as a barrack.
It is an interesting fact, that through the pious care of a wealthy citizen, Reading still possesses the old gates of the Oracle. There they are in honourable retirement at the top of St. Mary's Hill; the Kenrich crest in one place, the initials, J.K., of the founder of this factory for poor clothiers, in another; the date 1526 still in another part; all being in very fair state of preservation. How few of the busy many that pass those gates every day think of the scenes that these have witnessed, and could tell of, if walls had voices as well as ears!
"When Puritan and CavelierWith shout and psalm contended!And Rupert's oath, and Cromwell's prayer,With sound of battle blended!"—Whittier.
And now the corporation wait upon King Charles and assure him they will "assist him with counsel, and their purses, to the best of their ability." He probably preferred the latter, for—
November 9th.—We have notice of a consultation had "about the execution of the king's warrants," and on
November 17th.—"A tax is levied to pay those great charges which are now layed upon the borough concerning cloth, apparell, victualls, and other things for his Majestie's army." Then on
November 28th.—The king goes off to Oxford, and henceforth they are left to Sir Arthur's tender mercies: about this time we find a pathetic entry: "A noate of all such charges as have been disembursed, since the King's Majestie came first to Reading, for provisions, clothes for the soldiers, and for the king's own use;" being £6697, truly a prodigious sum for those times; but it is speedily followed by fresh requisitions. As the year opens it appears probable that Reading will be attacked, and so on 3rd March, 1543, a letter arrives from the king, ordering Sir Arthur to provision Reading for three months, to provision Greenlands a fortifiedcountry house just below Henley, to send out scouting parties to watch the enemy, and to prevent carriage of supplies to London. This rouses the Parliament. Essex is ordered to march on Oxford, taking Reading in his way; but the governor now is all ready for him. Mapledurham House and Cawsham have now been made into fortified out-posts, and, on the arrival of Essex's "trumpet," Colonel Codrington in his diary tells us the governor returned the stubborn answer that "he would either keep the town or die inside it!" There can be no doubt he would have made a resolute resistance; he was a brave and capable soldier, but, being wounded in the head by a tile dislodged by a cannon ball, on the third day of the siege, his place was taken by a Colonel R. Fielding, as next in seniority. The sad history of the gallant soldier is worth following further. At the capitulation he went to Oxford; there he managed to lose a leg, and presently turns up in Ireland, unluckily for him, at Drogheda. Cromwell storms, determined, after the inhuman massacres of Protestants, on making a harsh example of the Irish garrison, and Sir Arthur, now in command there, strange to say, has his brains knocked outwith his own wooden leg, which the soldiers imagined was filled with gold pieces—they did find two hundred about his person—the very thing which Hood imagined long after of his unhappy heroine.
"Gold, still gold! hard, yellow, and cold,For gold she had lived, and she died for gold,For a golden weapon had killed her!And the jury, its forman a gilder,They brought it in a Felo di SeBecause her own leg had killed her!Price of many a crime untold,Good or bad, a thousand fold,How widely gold's agencies vary!To save, to curse, to ruin, to bless,As even its minted coins express,Now stamped with the image of Good Queen Bess,And now of a bloody Mary!"
There is a portrait of Sir A. Aston at the Reading Public Library, a middle aged man with a large square chin and most determined expression. Sir Jacob Astley, after governor here, and made Baron Reading, is also in the Library, a pleasant looking old gentleman.
The town was very strongly and securely fortified, I quote from the diary of Sir Samuel Luke, Scout Master for the parliament after the surrender, when he had just been overit: "They had only three ways out of the town, where they had built three sconces, one at Forbury, one at Harrison's Barn, and another at the end of Pangbourn lane; the Forts were very well wrought, and strong both with trenches and pallisades; the town entrenched round so that if any man of the Parliamentary side should have delivered up a place as this town, he would have deserved a halter."
"It would appear," writes Mr. Childs, "that earth works were thrown up in a rude square, extending from Grey Friars Church and the present prison on the north, to midway in Kendrick Road, and to Katesgrove Hill on the south; and from about the line of Kendrick Road on the east to Castle Hill on the west. Redoubts were thrown up at intervals, and on the top of Whitley Hill a strong fort known as 'Harrison's Barn.'"
This Sir Samuel appears to have been a stout and able soldier, but, unfortunately for him, he had the misfortune to fall into the hands of Butler, who has pilloried him as the well-known Hudibras. Dr. Johnson says, writing of Butler, "The necessitudes of his condition placed him in the family of Sir S. Luke, one of Cromwell'sofficers, and a Presbyterian magistrate. Here he observed much of the character of the sectaries." Certainly he did, and recorded much; and though very much is gross caricature, still it is thus that Sir Samuel must be content to come down to us.
"When civil dudgeon first grew high,And men fell out they knew not why:Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling,And out he rode a colonelling.He was in logic a great critic,Profoundly skilled in analytic;He could distinguish and divideA hair 'twixt south and south-west tide:On either side he would dispute,Confute, change hands, and still confute.For his religion it was fitTo match his learning and his wit.'Twas Presbyterian true blue,For he was of the stubborn crewSuch as do build their faith uponThe holy text of pike and gun:And prove their doctrine or the doxBy apostolic blows and knocks.Still so perverse and opposite,As if they worshipped God for spite.Quarrel with mince-pies, and disparageTheir best and dearest friend plum-porridge.Fat pig and goose itself oppose,And blaspheme custard through the nose."
On Sir Arthur's refusal to surrender, the townwas at once assailed, the Royalist out-posts at Caversham being easily driven in, the bridge broken down, and batteries planted there commanding the town. This was April 15th. The Earl of Essex had at this time some 16,000 foot, and 300 horse, a force which in the course of a week was nearly doubled. His headquarters were at Southcote, leaving Colonel Skippon in charge of the siege works in the meadows at the N.W. of the town, on the old Battel Abbey estate, where was most of the fighting; whilst Lord Gray of Warwick sat down before the town, on the S.E. parts, with 7,000 horse and foot. Codrington tells us the Earl held a council of war, at which it was debated whether to storm or not. The cavalry were for attempting it, the infantry against, and this latter opinion prevailed, the garrison being supposed to be stronger than it really was. We read in the "Perfect Diurnal" of February 10th, "They are 4,000 strong in the town; some works are cast up as high as the houses; they have made use of all the clothier's wool in the town, and made wool-packs thereof." "There is nothing like leather," as is well known; but it may be doubted whether bales of cloth are benefited by aweek's cannonading. No wonder the cloth-trade languished after that involuntary employment of the stock-in-trade.
And now we will come to dates, making use of our two friends' diaries. It is a pity we have not also a Royalist record to check them by. But first we will take a look at the army investing. They are most of them young troops, and with officers at present unversed in siege operations: but some have already fought at Edgehill, notably the Saye and Sele "Blue Coats;" Colonel Nathanael and Colonel John Fiennes commanding them, would both be there, and perhaps his lordship. Hampden's "Green Coats" would also add to the variety, with the London train bands "Red Coats;" this red was a colour that Cromwell afterwards adopted for the whole of the British army, and which, it need hardly be remarked, is now "the thin red line which never wavers," and which more than once has confronted both cavalry and artillery successfully.
April 17th. Writes Sir Samuel:—"Our lines got within musket shot of the town."
April 18th.—"The enemy appeared on Cawsham hills under General Ruven, went to Sonning, and put down (up?) the river in boats 600musketeers, with several waggon loads of ammunition; which we could not hinder because we had broken down Cawsham bridge."
This was very cleverly managed, as the town had at first only twenty barrels of gunpowder altogether. Now their artillery would be well supplied; and the barges ran up by the Kennet in perfect safety into the very heart of the town. Immediately after this a battery was planted on the Thames bank by Essex, that effectually 'shut the door' north of the Kennet; but, by this time, 'the horse was stolen,' or, at least, the powder safe housed! On this day a cannon burst, killing four men and wounding half-a-dozen more of the besiegers; but what was much more serious for the King's party on this day, the Governor got a hurt that at once totally incapacitated him, and a mere seniority officer, a Col. Richard Fielding, took the command.
On the 19th there was a brisk sally, but repulses of the garrison. "On that night His Excellency advanced his batteries and placed his ordinance within less than pistol shot of Harrison's Fort." Stout old Skippon is here: and is in deadly earnest, like Cromwell, however unwilling Essex and Manchester may be to go to extremities.
April 20th. Says our Chronicler:—"Lord Gray pushes closer up."
April 21st is an eventful day. "Battered the town," says the diary, "got up within pistol shot of one of their choicest bulwarks in a place called the Gallows Field." On this day it is that St. Giles steeple comes to grief; now we will copy Codrington. "They planted ordinance on a steeple, but our cannons were levelled against it with such dexterity, that both cannoniers and cannon were soon buried under the ruins."
April 22nd.—"Flower, sent by the King to say he was coming to raise the siege, swam in with despatches, but is caught going back, and so the plan frustrated." Essex reversed his batteries, and so was ready to give the approaching Royalists a hot reception.
April 23rd.—An unlucky spy is seized, who had volunteered the perilous work of blowing up the siege ammunition train; he is hung in sight of the rampart, which is retaliated on the next day.
April 24th.—"A sudden sally; they got into our trenches, and killed four men; but were driven back with loss of twelve, but we could not get out the bodies of our men. Lord Gray got within pistol shot of Harrison's Barn."
This seems to have frightened Col. Fielding, who evidently was not the stuff that heroes are made of.
Hark! Hark! like the roar of the billows on the shore,The cry of battle rises along the charging lines:For Love!' 'For the Cause!' 'For the Church!' 'For the Law!'For Charles, King of England, and Rupert of the Rhine!
25th April, 9 a.m.—The town hung out a white flag, and sent "a drum to beat a parley, which His Excellency gave way to." If Fielding had but held out another day, and had co-operated with the King's forces, the town might have been relieved, and Essex driven away; for a few hours after, Charles makes a determined attack in force upon Caversham Bridge, which is only repulsed after heavy fighting, and through Essex being able to give his undivided attention. "The fight began," says Codrington, "about Cawsham Bridge, and on both sides great valour and resolution was expressed. After less than half-an-hour's fight, the enemy began to give ground, leaving about 300 arms, and many of their men behind them; their Horse also, which came down the hill to assist the Fort, were gallantly repulsed; about a hundred were slain upon the spot, among whom Sergt. Major Smith, in whose pocket was found good store of gold."
This settled the matter. Charles retired unmolested to Caversham House, where Fielding was allowed to go to him on April 26th. He obtained leave to surrender, the picked troops of the garrison being urgently required for service elsewhere. This permission, of course, did not clear Fielding, who was tried afterwards by court martial and sentenced to be beheaded, but the King did not allow the sentence to be carried out.
April 27th.—The surrender takes place. "He was pardoned," says Clarendon, "without much grace; his regiment was given to another, and he resolved as a volunteer; in this capacity he fought desperately through the war when danger was most rife, but in vain. So difficult a thing it is to play an after game of reputation in that nice and jealous profession of arms." "As they march out at Friar's Corner," says Sir Samuel, "at the same place when, as is recorded further, the soldiers plundered the houses of four Grand Malignants who had given information to the Governor of such persons as were inclined to the cause of the Parliament, and had therefore paid a double tax to the weekly contribution." This, perhaps, was as little as could be expected from a victorious cause; and SirSamuel again concludes all very characteristically and satisfactorily too, as regards the God-fearing soldiers of the Commonwealth.
April 30th, "being the Sunday, was spent in preaching and hearing God's word, the churches being extraordinarily filled, and soldiers and all men carrying themselves very civilly all the day long."
Sickness appears to have broken out amongst Essex's young soldiers encamped on the marshy meadows on the N.W. of the town, which may have had something to do with the easy terms granted. The Mercurius Aulicus, the Court Journal, has a story that "a soldier said that Essex caused five great pits to be dug at a distance from his camp, into which he cast the slain to conceal their number." The Earl stayed here until July, and ordered a heavy contribution for the pay of the soldiers. The Corporation, however, waited upon him to represent "they had been so impoverished by the late siege, and the exactions of His Majesty, as to be utterly unable to raise any more money amongst them." And this excuse seems to have been graciously accepted. Charles' "little finger," in money matters, was of necessity "thicker than the Parliament's loins," and this lead considerablyto the declining of his cause. When the tide of war turned a couple of years after, he appeared again here, and stayed at Coley; but we do not hear then of any more forced benevolences; indeed he conferred a real benefit, by having the fortification "slighted," which no doubt the burgesses received with extreme satisfaction. So the siege ended. Sieges in those days were trying to reputations. Colonel N. Fiennes, at Bristol, and then Prince Rupert at the same place, whether justly or not, were heavily censured for surrendering, and both of them came very near to sharing the fate of Fielding. That old lamentation was speedily verified; but with this we have happily no further connection.
"Lament! Lament!And let thy tears run down,To see the rentBetween the robe and crown!War, like a serpent, has its head got in,And will not cease so soon as 't did begin."
Reading Abbey.
Reading Abbey.
Itis hardly necessary to state that in rather early days, when the Thames flowed into the Rhine and Great Britain was a part of a greater continent, there was no Reading Abbey. Neither was there sometime after, when the city was a swamp between the Thames and the Kennet, and some few huts clustered round the Roman station Ad Pontes, where the legions crossed from Londinium on their way to the rich and important town of Calleva. We may possibly date our abbey's beginning from the third or fourth century. It may have been a chapel of ease to that interesting little church lately uncovered, and alas! covered up again, at Silchester. At any rate we are on firm ground when, towards the end of the tenth century, we locate a nunnery here, founded by Queen Elfreda, who at last began to repent of her various crimes. She had, perhaps, some excuse for arranging with the King to get rid of her first husband, who had deceived his royal master, lead astray by her fatal beauty.Thus she attained the throne to which she had no doubt been destined; but it was going too far to retain it by the murder of the son of her predecessor, Queen Ethelfleda; which is one of the horrid memories that clings round Corfe Castle. And now we leap to the beginning of the twelfth century and get on still firmer ground, when Henry I., at the height of his power, and also beginning to feel a little compunction, resolved to make reparations by founding what should be an abbey of world-wide magnificence.
He certainly succeeded. I mean with his abbey, though I am not prepared to go as far as do the chroniclers of his predecessor:—
"King Ethelbert lies here,Closed in this polyander.For building churches straight he goesTo heaven without meander."
Henry I. never did things by halves, and they could build in those days. His architect hadcarte blanche, and with wonderful speed there arose that glorious fabric whose ruins we weep over, and use for our flower shows. The abbey covered some thirty acres. It was surrounded with a wall, vast and strong, except where guarded by the Kennet, and four huge embattled gateways opened out to the four quarters. Almost all its stones are now gone. "It pitieth," or it ought to pity the by-passers to see some in the wall of that house in Hosier Street, some very few on the site, and oh, 18th century! many cartloads vandalised into a bridge on the road to Henley, near where the Druid's temple of despoiled Jersey adds another sorrow to the scenery. But at its dedication in 1164, in Henry II.'s time, the abbey and the abbey church must indeed have been magnificent. The latter was a cruciform building 420 x 92 feet in dimensions, without an aisle, covering the vast space between the Forbury and the gaol. Its extent is well shown, by the notices the Corporation has lately put up under the skilled guidance of those two chiefest of experts, the Secretary and Treasurer of the Berkshire Archæological Society. After the dedication ceremony, the King, and his still friendly Beckett, would doubtless adjourn to the magnificent Consistory, the great Hall, one of the largest and finest in England, destined to see so many Parliaments, and other national assemblings.
The inner gateway still remains, restored, perhaps, almost too modernly; close inspectionwill, however, show the old gate hinges and portcullis way; closer investigation still may even discover the dog badge of the last abbot, and a dolphin with the red rose of Lancaster on its tail, probably also belonging to the same period. Here the humble burgesses used to bow themselves before the Lord Abbot, and listen whilst he was pleased to indicate which of them might fulfil the then limited office of mayor. In front of this, as some say, the last abbot and his two accomplice monks died the awfully cruel traitor's death, having been convicted of sending supplies to the northern rebels in their so-called Pilgrimage of Grace. It has much pleasanter modern memories, being lent by the good town to the Berkshire Archæological Society, and being the scene in its fine old chamber of many interesting archæological gatherings. But I have strayed a long way from 1164. The second Henry's reign was no doubt its golden period; more memories cluster about the abbey in the twelfth century than at any other time. Here, the year before, in 1163, had occurred "the Fight on the Island," when, much to Henry's regret, de Bohun fell beneath the spear of de Montford.
"His fame, as blighted in the field,He strove to clear by spear and shield;To clear his fame in vain he strove,For wondrous are His ways above.How could the guiltless champion quail,Or how the great ordeal fail!"
"The knights met on horseback," says Norroy Seagur, "clad in armour, (on the island just below Caversham Bridge; a street running down to it has lately been called De Montford Street), Montford attacked with such resolution as to hurl Henry of Essex out of the saddle, when being stunned and faint from loss of blood, he was taken up apparently dead." King Henry handed him over to the monks of Reading Abbey, under whose care he recovered, and at once joined the fraternity. Some years after, and following on that bad Beckett business, Henry was here again, for here, in 1185, came Heraclius, the Patriarch of Jerusalem, and the Master of the Temple with him, appealing for a crusade to all Christian Kings, and especially to King Henry, who, it was considered, especially needed that moral white-washing. What a sight for the abbey! They brought with them the Standard of the Kingdom of the Holy Land, the Keys of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and of the Towerof David. The King reverently received them all, but handed them back to the Patriarch until he could consult with his barons. Henry was too old to go, but numbers of the young nobility took the cross, and carried it in the van against the Infidel; and not least fiery Prince Richard, the king of all knight errants. He went off immediately on coming to the throne, and performed exploits which far exceed those imagined by Ariosto. Unfortunately he needed money, and had to carry off the golden cover his father gave for the chief abbey relic, the hand of St. James; but that doubtless would soon be replaced by the offerings of the home-staying faithful.
Also in this reign, and at its close, were several royal funerals. Henry I. of course had himself buried here, as it was said in a silver coffin, which caused some very ruthless explorations at the time of the Suppression. A stone coffin found here recently had a very distinguished origin suggested for it by a high local authority. In 1154, Prince William, eldest son of Henry II., was buried here near his grandfather. Also here was buried King Henry II.'s second wife, Adeliza; and thereby hangs a very complicated and curious tale.
ABBEY GATEWAY
READING ABBEY GATEWAY, LEADING TO THE VESTRY AND TREASURY.
In 1810 some workmen digging in the abbey precincts "found a box which contained a perfectly formed fleshy hand (writes Mrs. Climenson, in her almost universal 'History of Shiplake,') holding a slender rod surmounted by a crucifix." This, she says, is now in Mr. Scott Murray's Roman Catholic Chapel at Danesfield, and is considered to be the hand of St. James the Less, which was brought from Germany by the Empress Maud, and given by her to her father, who gave it to the Abbey. "It is in perfect preservation, a plump and well-shaped hand, small, and with taper fingers, and almond-shaped nails, so small it might well be a woman's." And it probably is, and the hand of Queen Adeliza. One almost regrets it was not left in its hoped-for last resting-place. There is something gruesome in such remains, especially, perhaps, in heaped-up skulls in museums. Those lines of a modern poet on such a sight are pathetic.
"Did she live centuries, or ages back?What colour were those eyes when bright and waking?And were your ringlets fair, or brown, or black?Poor little head! that long has done with aching!"
In Stephen's days, in the interval between theHenries, the poor monks seem to have had rather an uncomfortable time of it. Stephen patronized them; he would have money, but he took it politely. When for a while his cause went down, and the Empress Queen arrived here, she was quite as exacting, and also bullied them most unmercifully. They must have been devoutly thankful when she at last went off to her continental possession; and when she came back for sepulchre would no doubt be able to receive her with greater equanimity. An English dean not long ago was accused of having "refused to bury a Dissenter." "On the contrary," he replied, "I shall feel the greatest pleasure in burying you all!"
Now we pass to the fourteenth century. Here, in 1359, Edward III. celebrated the marriage of his son John of Gaunt with Blanche, daughter of Henry Plantagenet. This was unquestionably the grandest wedding that ever happened, or could happen at Reading. The King of France, just lately taken prisoner at Poictiers, was part of the bridal party; so also a very famous Englishman, who came over here from his residence at Donnington Castle. Chaucer describes the whole thing at much length:—
"And the feste holden was in tentes,As to tell you my intent is:In a rome, a large plaine,Under a wode, in a champagne;Beside a river and a welleWhere never had abbeye ne selle;Ben, ne kerke, hous, ne village,In time of any man's age,And dured three Months the feast,In one estate, and never ceased.From early of the rising of the sun,Till the day spent was, and y-ronne;In justing, dancing, and lustiness,And all that served to gentilesse."—The Dream.
From Edward III. we will pass, though not in immediate succession to Edward IV.'s time; and I am again indebted to Mrs. Climenson for calling attention to a picture in the British Museum of Reading Abbey about 1470, where "the widow Gray"—as the Lancastrians called her—where Edward IV.'s bride, Queen Elizabeth, is represented as standing under this very inner gateway, already mentioned, so dear to the heart of every citizen of Reading. The abbot is there to meet her on her disembarkation, with all fitting reverence. In the distance are the royal barges, at the abbot's landing, on the Kennet.
After this almost a century glides by uneventfully. Like the Vicar of Wakefield, though not accompanied as he was, the abbot's adventures do not seem to have got much beyond "changing from the blue room to the green," at least from the abbey to Bere Court and back again. There were squabbles with the rising town; the aldermen began to be what would be now called "uppish," but the abbot was practically omnipotent, and sometimes, as in Abbot Thorne's time, had a heavy hand which effectually kept town councillors in their proper places. We can hardly realise now what very great men those mitred abbots must have been—practically-popes in their own districts where they wielded both the temporal and spiritual sword pretty vigorously.
The Abbot of Reading had precedence over all except Glastenbury and St. Albans. He had vast revenues at his disposal, worth nearly £20,000, it is reckoned, of our money,—a handsome income even after allowing for the lavish hospitality and almsgiving expected and rendered. He had the power of making knights, which the local name "Whiteknights," and the hospice there, shows to have been pretty freely exercised; though the fact that every priest was at one time "Dominus," or "Sir so and so,"occasions a little ambiguousness as to knights in these earlier centuries.
In Reading itself, as already remarked, the abbot, within the law, was almost absolute over the lives and properties of the township growing up under the abbey shadow; his household, and all about him, was modelled on a scale of more than princely magnificence, and it is to be doubted whether any, except the very highest nobility, could show anything like such an extravagant retinue.
The very list is exhausting: marshal, master of the horse, two keepers of the pantry, three cupbearers, four janitors, five pages, eight chamberlains, twelve hostellers (whose duty was to receive strangers), twenty huntsmen, thirty-one running footmen, and last, not least, an almoner. What wonder that such magnificence contrasted but badly by the side of the self-denying Grey Friars, and that the great Benedictine abbey broke down at last under its own greatness! Its last abbot was not the worst, nor the least deserving by any means, only he fell on evil days; and, when he stood by his own order, had little idea of the terrible significance of treason in the eyes of a Tudor.
At first Abbot Hugh was favourably reported on by the commissioners. "On Sep. 16, 1539," quotes Froude, "they were at Reading; on the 22nd at Glastenbury; but the abbot there, his answer appeared cankered and traitorous; he was sent to the Tower to be examined by Cromwell himself, when it was discovered that both he and the Abbot of Reading had supplied the northern insurgents with money."
Reading Abbey perished; on the other hand, the Grey Friars Monastery was simply dissolved, its monks frugally pensioned, and turned out into the street; their noble church was made into a guildhall, but preserved by that at any rate, and is now restored, and is the town's noblest relic of antiquity. Of the great Benedictine abbey, on the other hand, only the almost imperishable flint core survives of its mighty buildings. It may have plundered Silchester; it was itself for long a very stone pit for the builder. Its "record" is that of Rome, "Quod non fecerunt Barbari fecerunt Barberini"—the Roman princes made a stone quarry of the Colosseum. That bridge at Park Place is an almost equal barbarism,but before this, boat loads of abbey stones had gone down the river to help to build the Hospital of the Poor Knights of Windsor.
The roof of the great Consistory went to St. Mary's Church, in Reading, thus happily preserved, and where all may still see it. The panelling went to Merton College, Oxford. In fact by the time of James the plundering was complete; only land cannot run away, and so he conferred that upon Prince Henry, the then heir apparent of the kingdom.
Since then its history has been uneventful; granted at first to the Knollys family, it became at times a royal residence; the royal stables were extensive, and horses stood where monks had knelt. This seems to be alluded to, in that singular old poem, "Cantio Cygni," when Thamesis is spoken of as arriving at Reading.
"From hence he little Chansey Seeth, and hasteneth to seeFair Reddingetown, a place of name, where clothy-woven bee,This shows our Alfred's victories, what time Begsal was slainWith other Danes, who carcases lay trampled on the plain.And here these fields y-drenched were with blood upon them shed,Where on the prince, in stable now, hath standing many a steede."