THE abbot Samson was of middle stature, nearly bald, having a face neither round nor yet long, a prominent nose, thick lips, clear and very piercing eyes, ears of the nicest sense of hearing, arched eyebrows, often shaved; and he soon became hoarse from a short exposure to cold. On the day of his election he was forty and seven years old, and had been a monk seventeen years. He had then a few grey hairs in a reddish beard, and a very few in a black and somewhat curly head of hair. But within fourteen years after his election it became as white as snow.
He was a man remarkably temperate, never slothful, of strong constitution, and willing to ride or walk till old age gained upon him and moderated such inclination. On hearing the news of the Cross being taken, and the loss of Jerusalem, he began to use under garmentsof horsehair and a horsehair shirt, and to abstain from flesh and flesh meats. Nevertheless, he desired that meats should be placed before him at table for the increase of the alms dish. Sweet milk, honey and such like sweet things he ate with greater appetite than other food.
He abhorred liars, drunkards and talkative folk; for virtue ever is consistent with itself and rejects contraries. He also much condemned persons given to murmur at their meat or drink, and particularly monks who were dissatisfied therewith, himself adhering to the uniform course he had practised when a monk. He had likewise this virtue in himself, that he never changed the mess set before him.
Once when I, then a novice, happened to be serving in the refectory, I wished to prove if this were true, and I thought I would place before him a mess which would have displeased any other than him, in a very black and broken dish. But when he looked at it, he was as one that saw it not. Some delay took place, and I felt sorry that I had so done; and snatching away the dish, I changed the mess and the dish for a better, and brought it to him; but this substitution he took in ill part, and was angry with me for it.
An eloquent man was he, both in French and Latin, but intent more on the substance and method of what was to be said than on the style of words. He could read English books most admirably, and was wont to preach to the people in English, but in the dialect of Norfolk, where he was born and bred; and so he caused a pulpit to be set up in the church for the ease of the hearers, and for the ornament of the church. The abbot also seemed to prefer an active life to one of contemplation, and rather commended good officials than good monks. He very seldom approved of any one on account of his literary acquirements, unless he also possessed sufficient knowledge of secular matters; and whenever he chanced to hear that any prelate had resigned his pastoral care and become an anchorite, he did not praise him for it. He never applauded men of too compliant a disposition, saying, "He who endeavours to please all, ought to please none."
In the first year of his being abbot, he appeared to hate all flatterers, and especially among the monks; but in process of time it seemed that he heard them more readily, and was more familiar with them. It once happened that a certain brother of ours, skilled in this art, had bent the knee before him, and underthe pretence of giving advice, had poured the oil of flattery into his ears. I, standing apart, smiled. The brother having departed, I was called and asked why I had smiled. I answered, "The world is full of flatterers." And the abbot replied, "My son, it is long that I have known flatterers; I cannot, therefore, avoid hearing them. There are many things to be passed over and taken no notice of, if the peace of the convent is to be preserved. I will hear what they have to say, but they shall not deceive me if I can help it, as they did my predecessor, who trusted so unadvisedly to their counsel that for a long time before his death he had nothing for himself or his household to eat, unless it were obtained on trust from creditors; nor was there anything to be distributed among the poor on the day of his burial, unless it were the fifty shillings which were received from Richard the farmer, of Palgrave, which very fifty shillings the same Richard on another occasion had to pay to the King's bailiffs, who demanded the entire farm-rent for the King's use." With this saying I was comforted. His study, indeed, was to have a well-regulated house, and enough wherewith to keep his household, so managing that the usual allowance for a week, which his predecessor could notmake last for five days, sufficed him for eight, nine or even ten days, if so be that he was at his manors without any extraordinary arrival of guests. Every week, indeed, he audited the expenses of the house, not by deputy, but in his own person, which his predecessor had never been wont to do.
For the first seven years he had only four courses in his house, afterwards only three, except presents and game from his parks, or fish from his ponds. And if at any time he retained any one in his house at the request of a great man, or of a particular friend, or messengers, or minstrels, or any person of that description, by taking the opportunity of going beyond sea or travelling afar off, he prudently disencumbered himself of such hangers-on.
The monks with whom the abbot had been the most intimate, and whom he liked best before he became abbot, he seldom promoted to offices merely for old acquaintance' sake, unless they were fit persons. Wherefore certain of our brethren who had been favourable to his election as abbot, said that he cared less for those who had liked him before he became abbot than was proper, and particularly that those were most favoured by him who both openly and in secret had spoken evil of him,nay, had even publicly called him, in the hearing of many, a passionate unsociable man, a proud fellow, and Norfolk barrator. But on the other hand, as after he had received the abbacy he exhibited no indiscreet partiality for his old friends, so he refrained from showing anything like hatred or dislike to many others according to their deserts, returning frequently good for evil, and doing good to them that persecuted him.
He had this way also, which I have never observed in any other man, that he had an affectionate regard for many to whom he seldom or never showed a countenance of love; according to the common proverb which says, "Where love is, there is the regard of love." And another thing I wondered at in him was, that he knowingly suffered loss in his temporal matters from his own servants, and confessed that he winked at them; but this I believe to have been the reason, that he might watch a convenient opportunity when the matter could be advisedly remedied, or that by passing over these matters without notice, he might avoid a greater loss.
He loved his kinsmen indifferently, but not less tenderly than others, for he had not, or assumed not to have, any relative within the third degree. Ihave heard him state that he had relations who were noble and gentle, whom he never would in any wise recognize as relations; for, as he said, they would be more a burden than an honour to him, if they should happen to find out their relationship. But he always acknowledged those as kinsmen who had treated him as such when he was a poor monk. Some of these relations (that is, those whom he found useful and suitable) he appointed to various offices in his own house, others he made keepers of manors. But those whom he found unworthy, he irrevocably dismissed from his presence.
A certain man of lowly station, who had managed his patrimony faithfully, and had served him devotedly in his youth, he looked upon as his dearest kinsman, and gave to his son, who was a clerk, the first church that fell vacant after he came to the charge of the abbey, and also advanced all the other sons of this man.
He invited to him a certain chaplain who had maintained him in the schools of Paris by the sale of holy water, and bestowed upon him an ecclesiastical benefice sufficient for his maintenance by way of vicarage. He granted to a certain servant of his predecessor food and clothing all the days of his life,he being the very man who put the fetters upon him at his lord's command when he was cast into prison. To the son of Elias, the cupbearer of Hugh the abbot, when he came to do homage for his father's land, he said, in full court, "I have for these seven years deferred taking your homage for the land which the abbot Hugh gave your father, because that gift was to the damage of the manor of Elmswell. Now I am overcome when I call to my mind what your father did for me when I was in fetters, for he sent to me a portion of the very wine whereof his lord had been drinking, and bade me be strong in God." To Master Walter, the son of Master William of Diss, suing at his grace for the vicarage of the church of Chevington, he replied, "Your father was master of the schools, and at the time when I was a poor clerk he granted me freely and in charity an entrance to his school, and the means of learning; now I, for the sake of God, do grant you what you ask."
He addressed two knights of Risby, William and Norman, at the time when they were adjudged to be in his mercy, publicly in this wise: "When I was a cloister monk, sent to Durham upon business of our church, and thence returning through Risby,being benighted, I sought a night's lodging from Norman, and I received a blank refusal; but going to the house of William, and seeking shelter, I was honourably entertained by him. Now, therefore, those twenty shillings, which are 'the mercy,' I will without mercy exact from Norman; but contrariwise, to William I give thanks, and the amerciament of twenty shillings that is due from him I do with pleasure remit."
A certain young girl, seeking her food from door to door, complained to the abbot that one of the sons of Richard, the son of Drogo, had forced her; and at length, by the suggestion of the abbot, for the sake of peace, she took one mark in satisfaction. The abbot, moreover, took from the same Richard four marks for licence to agree; but all those five marks he ordered forthwith to be given to a certain chapman, upon the condition that he should take this poor woman to wife.
In the town of St. Edmund, the abbot purchased stone houses, and assigned them for the use of the schools, so that thereby the poor clerks should be for ever free from house-rent, towards payment whereof all the scholars, whether rich or poor, were compelledtwice in the year to subscribe a penny or a halfpenny.
The recovery of the manor of Mildenhall for one thousand and one hundred marks of silver, and the expulsion of the Jews from the town of St. Edmund, and the founding of the new hospital at Babwell, are proofs of great virtue.
The lord abbot sought from the King letters enjoining that the Jews should be driven away from the town of St. Edmund, he stating that whatsoever is within the town of St. Edmund, or within the banlieue thereof, of right belongs to St. Edmund: therefore the Jews ought to become the men of St. Edmund, otherwise they should be expelled from the town. Licence was accordingly given that he might put them forth, saving, nevertheless, that they had all their chattels and the value of their houses and lands. And when they were expelled, and with an armed force conducted to divers towns, the abbot gave order that all those that from henceforth should harbour or entertain Jews in the town of St. Edmund should be solemnly excommunicated in every church and at every altar. Howbeit it was afterwards conceded by the King's justices that if the Jews should come to the great pleas of the abbot todemand their debts from their debtors, on such occasion they might for two days and two nights lodge within the town, and on the third day be permitted to depart freely.
The abbot offered King Richard five hundred marks for the manor of Mildenhall, stating that the manor was worthy sixty and ten pounds by the year, and for so much had been recorded in the great roll of Winchester. And when he had conceived hopes of success in his application, the matter rested till the morrow. In the meanwhile there came a certain person to the King, telling him that this manor was well worth yearly a hundred pounds. On the morrow, therefore, when the abbot urged his suit, the King said, "It is of no avail my lord abbot, what you ask me; you shall either give a thousand marks, or you shall not have the manor." And whereas the Queen Eleanor, according to the custom of the realm, ought to have one hundred marks where the King receives a thousand, she took of us a great gold cup of the value of a hundred marks, and gave us back the same cup for the soul of her lord, King Henry, who first gave the same cup to St. Edmund. On another occasion, when the treasure of ourchurch was carried to London for the ransom of King Richard, the same Queen redeemed that cup for one hundred marks, and restored it to us, taking in return our charter from us as an evidence of our most solemn promise, that we should never again alienate that cup from our church upon any occasion whatever.
Now, when all this money, which was got together with great difficulty, had been paid, the abbot held a chapter, and said he ought to have some portion of the great advantage derivable from so valuable a manor. And the convent answered that it was just, and "Let it be according to your wish." The abbot replied that he could well claim the half part as his own right, demonstrating that he had paid towards this purchase more than four hundred marks, with much inconvenience to himself. But he said that he would be content with a certain allotment of that manor called Icklingham, which was most freely granted him by the convent. When the abbot heard this, he said, "And I do accept this part of the land to my own use, but not that I intend to keep the same in my own hand, or that I shall give it to my relations, but for the good of my soul and for all your souls in common, Igive the same to the new hospital at Babwell, for the relief of the poor, and the maintenance of hospitality." As he said, so it was done, and afterwards confirmed by the King's Charter.
These and all other like things worthy to be written down and lauded for ever did the abbot Samson. But he said he had done nothing, unless he could have our church dedicated in his lifetime; which done, he said he wished to die. For the solemnization of this act, he said he was ready to pay two thousand marks of silver, so that the King should be present, and the affair be completed with the reverence it demanded.
The abbot was informed that the church of Woolpit was vacant, Walter of Coutances being chosen to the bishopric of Lincoln. He presently convened the prior and great part of the convent, and taking up his story thus began: "You well know what trouble I had in respect of the church of Woolpit; and in order that it should be obtained for your exclusive use I journeyed to Rome at your instance, in the time of the schism between Pope Alexander and Octavian. I passed through Italy at that time when all clerks bearing letters of our lord the Pope Alexander were taken. Some were imprisoned,some hanged, and some, with nose and lips cut off, sent forward to the pope, to his shame and confusion. I, however, pretended to be Scotch; and putting on the garb of a Scotchman, and the gesture of one, I often brandished my staff, in the way they use that weapon called a gaveloc, at those who mocked me, using threatening language, after the manner of the Scotch. To those that met and questioned me as to who I was, I answered nothing, but, 'Ride ride Rome, turne Cantwereberei.' This did I to conceal myself and my errand, and that I should get to Rome safer in the guise of a Scotchman.
"Having obtained letters from the pope, even as I wished, on my return I passed by a certain castle, as my way led me from the city; and behold the officers thereof came about me, laying hold upon me, and saying, 'This vagabond who makes himself out to be a Scotchman is either a spy or bears letters from the false pope Alexander.' And while they examined my ragged clothes, and my boots, and my breeches, and even the old shoes which I carried over my shoulders, after the fashion of the Scotch, I thrust my hand into the little wallet which I carried, wherein was contained the letter of our lord the pope, placedunder a little cup I had for drinking. The Lord God and St. Edmund so permitting, I drew out both the letter and the cup together, so that extending my arm aloft, I held the letter underneath the cup. They could see the cup plain enough, but they did not see the letter; and so I got clear out of their hands, in the name of the Lord. Whatever money I had about me they took away; therefore I had to beg from door to door, without any payment, until I arrived in England.
"But hearing that this church had been given to Geoffrey Ridel, my soul was heavy, because I had laboured in vain. Coming, therefore, home, I crept under the shrine of St. Edmund, fearing lest the abbot should seize and imprison me, although I deserved no punishment; nor was there a monk who durst speak to me, or a layman who durst bring me food except by stealth. At last, upon consideration, the abbot sent me to Acre in exile, and there I remained a long time.
"These and innumerable other things have I endured on account of this church of Woolpit, but, blessed be God, who works all things together, behold! this very church, for which I have borne so many sufferings is given into my hand, and now I have the power ofpresenting it to whomsoever I will, because it is vacant. And now I restore it to the convent, and I assign to its exclusive use, the ancient custom or pension of ten marks, which you have lost for upwards of sixty years. I had much rather have given it to you entire, could I have done so; but I know that the Bishop of Norwich might gainsay this; or even if he did grant it, he would make it an occasion to claim to himself such subjection and obedience from you as it is not advisable or expedient you should acknowledge. Therefore let us do that which by law we may; that is, put a clerk in as vicar, who shall account to the bishop for the spiritualities, and to yourselves for ten marks. I propose, if you all agree, that this vicarage be given to some kinsman of Roger de Hengham, a monk, and one of your brethren who was joined with me in that expedition to Rome, and was exposed to the same perils as myself, and in respect of the very same matter."
This said, we all rose and gave thanks; and Hugh, a clerk, brother of the said Roger, was nominated to the aforesaid church, saving to us our pension of ten marks.
IN that manor of the monks of Canterbury which is called Eleigh, and is within the hundred of the abbot, a case of homicide occurred; but the men of the archbishop would not permit that those manslayers should stand their trial in the court of St. Edmund. Thereupon the abbot made his plaint to King Henry, stating that Baldwin the archbishop was claiming for himself the liberties of our church, under authority of a new charter, which the King had given to the church of Canterbury after the death of St. Thomas. The King hereupon made answer, that he had never made any grant in derogation of the rights of our church, nor did he wish to take away from St. Edmund anything that had ever belonged to him.
On this intelligence, the abbot said to his most intimate advisers, "It is the better counsel thatthe archbishop should have to complain of me than I of the archbishop. I will put myself in seisin of this liberty, and afterwards will defend myself thereupon by the help of St. Edmund, whose right our charters testify it to be." Therefore suddenly and at daybreak, by the assistance of Robert of Cockfield, there were dispatched about fourscore men to the town of Eleigh, who took by surprise those three manslayers, and led them bound to St. Edmund, and cast them into the body of the gaol there.
Now, the archbishop complaining of this, Ranulf de Glanville, the justiciary, commanded that those men be put by gage and pledges to stand their trial in that court wherein they ought to stand trial; and the abbot was summoned to come before the King's court to answer touching the violence and injury which he was said to have done to the archbishop. The abbot thereupon offered himself several times without any essoin.
At length, upon Ash Wednesday, they stood before the King in the chapter house of Canterbury, and the charters of the King on one side and the other were read in court. And our lord the King said: "These charters are of the same age, and emanatefrom the same King, Edward. I know not what I can say, unless it be that these charters contradict each other." To whom the abbot said: "Whatever observations may apply to the charters, we are seised, and hitherto have been; and of this I am willing to put myself upon the verdict of the two counties of Norfolk and Suffolk, if they do allow this to be the case."
But Archbishop Baldwin, having first conferred with his advisers, said that the men of Norfolk and Suffolk greatly loved St. Edmund, and that great part of those counties was under the control of the abbot, and therefore he was unwilling to stand by their decision. The King at this waxed wroth, and in indignation got up, and in departing said, "He that is able to receive it, let him receive it." And so the matter was put off, and the case is yet undecided.
However, I observed that some of the men of the monks of Canterbury were wounded even to death by the country folk of the town of Milden, which is situate in the hundred of St. Edmund; and because they knew that the prosecutor ought to make suit to the jurisdiction wherein the culprit is, they chose to be silent and to put up with it, rather than make complaint thereupon to the abbot or his bailiffs,because in no wise would they come into the court of St. Edmund to plead there.
After this the men of Eleigh set up a certain cucking-stool, whereat justice was to be done in respect of deceits in the measuring of bread or corn; whereof the abbot complained to the Lord Bishop of Ely, then justiciary and chancellor. But he was anything but desirous to hear the abbot, because it was said that he was smelling after the archbishopric, which at that time was vacant. Some time afterwards, when he had come on a visitation, being entertained as legate, before he departed he made a speech at the shrine of the holy martyr. The abbot, seizing the opportunity, said to all present, "My lord bishop, the liberty which the monks of Canterbury claim for themselves is the right of St. Edmund, whose body is here present; and because you do not choose to render me assistance to protect the privileges of his church, I place that plaint between him and you. Let him from henceforth get justice done to himself." The chancellor deigned not to answer a single word; but within a year from that time was driven from England, and experienced divine vengeance.
Now when the same chancellor, on his returnfrom Germany, had arrived at Ipswich, and rested the night at Hitcham, news was brought that he wished to take St. Edmund in his way, and would hear mass with us on the morrow. The abbot, therefore, gave strict injunctions that the offices of the church should not be celebrated so long as the chancellor was present in the church; for he said he had heard at London that the Bishop of London had pronounced in the presence of six bishops that the Chancellor was excommunicate, and had left England excommunicate, particularly for the violence he committed upon the Archbishop of York at Dover.
Therefore when the chancellor came to us on the morrow, he found no one, neither clerk nor monk, who would sing a mass. Indeed, not only the priest standing at the first mass, and beginning the canon of the mass, but the other priests standing before the altars, ceased, remaining with unmoved lips until a messenger came, saying that he had departed from the church. The chancellor put up with it at the time, but did many injuries to the abbot, until at length, by the intervention of friends, both parties returned to the kiss of peace.
When King Henry had taken the Cross, and had come to us within a month afterwards to pay hisdevotions, the abbot privily made for himself a cross of linen cloth, and holding in one hand the cross and a needle and thread, he requested licence from the King to take upon himself the cross. But this privilege was denied him, upon the suggestion of John, Bishop of Norwich, who said that it was not expedient for the country, or indeed safe for the counties of Norfolk and Suffolk, that the Bishop of Norwich and the Abbot of St. Edmund should be both away at the same time.
When the news came to London of the capture of King Richard and his imprisonment in Germany, and the barons met to take counsel thereupon, the abbot started up before them all, saying that he was quite ready to seek his lord the King, either in disguise or any other way, until he had discovered where he was, and had gained certain intelligence of him; by reason whereof he obtained great approbation.
When the chancellor, the Bishop of Ely, filled the office of legate, and in that capacity was holding a council at London, he proposed certain decrees against the black monks, taking notice of their wandering to St. Thomas and St. Edmund, on the excuse of pilgrimage, and inveighed against abbots, restricting them in the number of their horses.Abbot Samson replied, "We do not admit any decree against that rule of St. Benedict which allows the abbots the free and absolute government of their monks. I keep the barony of St. Edmund and his kingdom; nor are thirteen horses sufficient for me as they may be for some abbots, unless I have more to enable me to execute the King's justice."
Whilst there was war throughout England, during the captivity of King Richard, the abbot, with his whole convent, solemnly excommunicated all movers of the war and disturbers of the public peace, not fearing the Earl John, the King's brother, nor any other, so that he was styled the "stout-hearted abbot." After this he went to the siege of Windsor, where he appeared in armour with certain other abbots of England, having his own standard, and retaining many knights at heavy charges, being more remarkable there for his counsel than for his piety. But we cloister folk thought this act rather perilous, fearing lest in consequence some future abbot might be compelled to attend in person upon any warlike expedition. On the conclusion of a truce he went into Germany, and there visited the King with many gifts.
After the return of King Richard to England,licence was granted for holding tournaments; for which purpose many knights met between Thetford and St. Edmund. The abbot forbade them; but they, resisting, fulfilled their desire. On another occasion there came twenty-four young men with their followers, sons of noblemen, to have their revenge at the aforesaid place; which being done, they returned into the town to put up there. The abbot hearing of this, ordered the gates to be locked, and all of them to be kept within. The next day was the vigil of Peter and Paul the apostles. Therefore, having passed their word and promising that they would not go forth without permission, they all dined with the abbot on that day. After dinner, when the abbot retired to his chamber, they all arose and began to carol and sing, sending into the town for wine, drinking and then shouting, depriving the abbot and convent of their sleep, and doing everything in scorn of the abbot. They spent the day until the evening in this manner; and refused to desist, even when the abbot commanded them. But when evening was come, they broke open the gates of the town and went forth by force. The abbot, indeed, solemnly excommunicated all of them, yet not without first consulting Archbishop Hubert,at that time justiciary; and many of them came, promising amendment and seeking absolution.
The abbot often sent his messengers to Rome, by no means empty-handed. The first he sent, immediately after he was consecrated, obtained in general terms all the liberties and privileges which had been granted of yore to his predecessors, even in the time of the schism. Next he obtained, first among the abbots of England, that he might be able to give episcopal benediction solemnly, wheresoever he might happen to be, and this he obtained for himself and for his successors. Afterwards he obtained a general exemption for himself and his successors, from all Archbishops of Canterbury, which Abbot Hugh had only acquired for himself personally. In these confirmations Abbot Samson caused to be inserted many new privileges for the greater liberty and security of our church.
There once came a certain clerk to the abbot, bearing letters of request for procuring a benefice. And the abbot, drawing forth from his desk seven apostolic writings, with the leaden seals hanging to them, made answer: "Look at these apostolic writings, whereby divers popes require that certain benefices should be given to divers clerks. When Ishall have quieted those who have come before you, I will give you your rent; for he who first cometh to the mill ought first to have his grist."
There was a general court summoned for the hundred of Risbridge, to hear the plaint and trial of the Earl of Clare, at Witham. He, indeed, accompanied by many barons and knights, including the Earl Alberic and many others, stated that his bailiffs had given him to understand that they were accustomed to receive yearly for his use five shillings from the hundred and the bailiffs of the hundred, and that this was now unjustly detained; and he alleged that the land of Alfric, the son of Withgar, who had in ancient time been lord of that hundred, had been granted to his predecessors at the conquest of England. But the abbot, taking thought for his own interest, without stirring from his place, answered, "It is a strange thing, my lord earl; your case fails you. King Edward the Confessor gave, and by his charter confirmed, to St. Edmund, this entire hundred; and of those five shillings there is no mention made therein. You must tell us for what service, or for what reason, you demand those five shillings." And the earl, after advising with his attendants, replied that it was his office to carry the standard of St. Edmund in battle,and for that cause the five shillings were due to him. The abbot answered, "Of a truth it seems a mean thing that such a man as the Earl of Clare, should receive such a petty gift for such a service. To the Abbot of St. Edmund, it is but a slight grievance to give five shillings. The Earl Roger Bigot holds himself as seised, and asserts that he is seised, of the office of bearing the standard of St. Edmund; indeed, he actually did bear it when the earl of Leicester was taken and the Flemings destroyed. Thomas of Mendham also claims this as his right. When, therefore, you shall have proved against these your right, I will with great pleasure pay you the five shillings you now seek to recover of me." The earl upon this said that he would talk the matter over with the Earl Roger, his kinsman, and so the matter was put off even to this day.
On the death of Robert of Cockfield, there came Adam, his son, and with him many of his relations, the Earl Roger Bigot, and many other great men, and made suit to the abbot for the tenements of the aforesaid Adam, and especially for the half hundred of Cosford, to be held by the annual payment of one hundred shillings, just as if it had been his hereditary right; indeed, they all said that his father and his grandfatherhad held it for fourscore years past and more.
When the abbot got an opportunity of speaking, putting his two fingers up to his two eyes, he said, "May I be deprived of these eyes on that day, nay, in that hour, wherein I grant to any one a hundred to be held in hereditary right, unless indeed the King, who is able to take away from me the abbey and my life with it, should force me to do so."
Explaining to them the reason of that saying, he averred, "If any one were to hold a hundred as an inheritance, and he should make forfeit to the King in any wise, so that he ought to lose his inheritance, forthwith will the Sheriff of Suffolk and the King's bailiffs have seisin of the hundred, and exercise their own power within our liberties; and if they should have the ward of the hundred, the liberty of the eight hundreds and a half will be endangered."
And then addressing himself to Adam, he said, "If you, who claim an inheritance in this hundred, should take to wife any free woman who should hold but one acre of land of the King in chief; the King, after your death, would possess himself of all that your tenement, together with the wardship of your son, if he be under age; and thus the King's bailiffs would enter upon the hundred of St. Edmund, to the prejudiceof the abbot. Besides all this, your father acknowledged to me that he claimed nothing by right of inheritance in the hundred; but because his service was satisfactory to me, I permitted him to hold it all the days of his life, according as he deserved of me."
Upon the abbot saying thus much, money was offered; but he could not be persuaded by words or money. At last it was settled between them thus: Adam disclaimed the right which he had by word of mouth claimed in the hundred, and the abbot confirmed to him all his other lands; but touching our town of Cockfield, no mention was made of that, nor indeed is it believed that he had a charter thereof; Semer and Groton he was to hold for the term of his life.
Herbert the dean erected a windmill upon Haberdon. When the abbot heard of this, his anger was so kindled that he would scarcely eat or utter a single word. On the morrow, after hearing mass, he commanded the sacrist, that without delay he should send his carpenters thither and overturn it altogether, and carefully put by the wooden materials in safe keeping.
The dean, hearing this, came to him saying that he was able in law to do this upon his own frank fee, and that the benefit of the wind ought not to bedenied to any one. He further said that he only wanted to grind his own corn there, and nobody else's, lest it should be imagined that he did this to the damage of the neighbouring mills. The abbot, his anger not yet appeased, answered, "I give you as many thanks as if you had cut off both my feet; by the mouth of God I will not eat bread until that building be plucked down. You are an old man, and you should have known that it is not lawful even for the King or his justiciary to alter or appoint a single thing within the banlieue, without the permission of the abbot and convent; and why have you presumed to do such a thing? Nor is this without prejudice to my mills, as you assert, because the burgesses will run to you and grind their corn at their pleasure, nor can I by law turn them away, because they are freemen. Nor would I endure that the mill of our cellarer, lately set up, should stand, except that it was erected before I was abbot. Begone," he said, "begone; before you have come to your house, you shall hear what has befallen your mill."
But the dean being afraid before the face of the abbot, by the counsel of his son, Master Stephen, forestalled the servants of the sacrist, and without delay caused that very mill which had been erected by hisown servants to be overthrown. So that when the servants of the sacrist came thither, they found nothing to be pulled down.
The abbot was sued in respect of the advowson of certain churches, and gained the case. Certain others he also retained, although his right thereto was challenged, viz., the church of Westley, of Meringthorp, of Brettenham, of Wendling, of Pakenham, of Nowton, of Bradfield in Norfolk, the moiety of the church of Boxford, the church of Scaldwell, and the church of Endgate. All these, although the right was challenged by others, he retained, and he restored to his own right of patronage three portions of the church of Dickleburgh, and brought back the tenements belonging to those shares to the frank fee of the church, saving the service which was due therefrom to the manor of Tivetshall. But the church of Boxford being void, when an inquest was summoned thereupon, there came five knights tempting the abbot, and inquiring what it was they ought to swear.
The abbot would neither give nor promise to them anything, but said, "When the oath shall be administered, declare the right according to your consciences." They, indeed, being discontented, departed, and by their inquest took away from him theadvowson of that church, namely, the last presentation. Nevertheless, he ultimately recovered it after many charges, and for a fine of ten marks.
The abbot also retained the church of Honington. This had not become vacant, but the right was challenged in the time of Durand of Hostesley, although he produced as evidence of his right the charter of William, Bishop of Norwich, wherein it was specified that Robert of Valognes, his father-in-law, had given that church to Ernald Lovell.
The moiety of the church of Hopton being void, a controversy arose thereupon between the abbot and Robert of Elm; and a day of hearing being appointed at Hopton, after much altercation, the abbot being guided by I know not what sudden impulse, said to the aforesaid Robert, "Do you but swear that this is your right, and I will allow that it shall be so." And since that knight refused to swear, it was by the consent of each party, referred to the oath of sixteen lawful men of the hundred, who swore that this belonged to the abbot as his right. Gilbert Fitz-Ralph and Robert of Cockfield, lords of that fee, were there present and consenting thereto.
Thereupon, Master Jordan de Ros, who had the charter of abbot Hugh, as well as the charter ofthe aforesaid Robert, starting forward, urged that whichever of them succeeded in proving his claim to the church, he (Jordan) might hold the parsonage, that he was parson of the whole church, and that the clerk last deceased had been his vicar, rendering him a yearly payment for that moiety. In proof thereof he produced the charter of Walchelin the archdeacon.
The abbot, greatly moved and angry with him, never received him in a friendly manner, until the said Jordan, in a chapter of the monks at Thetford, at the abbot's instance, resigned into the hands of the bishop there present that very moiety, without any reservation or expectation of afterwards recovering the same, before a great multitude of clerks. This done, the abbot said, "My lord bishop, I am engaged by promise to bestow the rent upon some one your clerk; and I now give this moiety of this church to whomsoever of your clerks you will." Then the bishop requested that in a friendly manner it should be given to the same Master Jordan; and so upon the presentation of the abbot, Jordan got it back again.
Afterwards a controversy arose between the abbot and the same Jordan, touching the land of Herard in Harlow, whether it were the frank fee of the church or not. And when there was summoned ajury of twelve knights to make inquest in the king's court, the inquest was taken in the court of the abbot at Harlow, by the licence of Ranulf de Glanville, and the recognitors swore that they never knew that land at any time to have been separated from the church, but nevertheless that land owed such service to the abbot as that to which the land of Eustace, and certain other lands of laymen in the same town were subject. At length it was agreed between them thus: Master Jordan in full court acknowledged that land to be lay fee, and that he claimed nothing therein, unless by the abbot's grace. He will therefore hold that land all the days of his life, rendering yearly to the abbot twelve pence for all services.
Since, according to the custom of the English, many persons gave many presents to the abbot, as being their head, upon the day of the Circumcision of our Lord, I, Jocelin, thought to myself, What can I give? And I began to reduce into writing all those churches which are in the gift of the abbot, as well of our manors as of his, and the reasonable values of the same, upon the same principle that they could be fairly set to farm, at a time when corn is at its ordinary standard price. And, therefore, upon the commencement of a new year, I gave to the abbotthat schedule, as a gift to him, which he received very gratefully.
I, indeed, because I then was pleasing in his sight, thought in my heart, that I should hint to him that some one church should be given to the convent, and assigned for the purposes of hospitality, just as he had wished when he was a poor cloister monk: for this same thing he himself had, before his election, suggested the brethren should swear, that upon whomsoever the lot should fall, that man should do it. But while I thought upon these things, I remembered that some one previously had said the very same thing, and that I had heard the abbot reply, that he could not dismember the barony; in other words, that he ought not to diminish the liberty and dignity which abbot Hugh and others his predecessors had had, of giving away churches, which after all scarcely brought any gain or profit to the convent. On considering this, I held my peace.
The writing I have alluded to was the following:—
"These are the churches of the manors and socages of theAbbot: The church of Melford is worth forty pounds; Chevington, ten marks; Saxham, twelve marks; Hargrave, five marks; Brettenham, five marks; Boxford, one hundred shillings; Fornham Magna, one hundred shillings; Stow, one hundred shillings; Honington, five marks; Elmswell, three marks; Cotton, twelve marks; Brocford, five marks; Palgrave,ten marks; Great Horningsherth, five marks; Kingston, four marks; Harlow, nineteen marks; Stapleford, three marks; Tivetshall, one hundred shillings; Worlingworth cum Bedingfield, twenty marks; Soham, six marks; the moiety of the church of Wortham, one hundred shillings; Rungton, twenty marks; Thorp, six marks; Woolpit, over and above the pension, one hundred shillings; Rushbrook, five marks; the moiety of the church of Hopton, sixty shillings; Rickinghall, six marks; three parts of the church of Dickleburgh, each part being worth thirty shillings and upwards; the moiety of the church of Gislingham, four marks; Icklingham, six marks. Concerning the church of Mildenhall, which is worth forty marks, and of the moiety of the church of Wetherden, what shall I say? Wendling, one hundred shillings; the church of Len, ten marks; the church of Scaldwell, five marks; the church of Warkton ..."These are the churches of the manors belonging to theConvent: Mildenhall, Barton, and Horningsherth, twenty-five marks, besides the pension; Rougham, fifteen marks, besides the pension; Bradfield, five marks; Pakenham, thirty marks; Southrey, one hundred shillings; Risby, twenty marks; Nowton, four marks; Whepstead, fourteen marks; Fornham St. Genevieve, fifteen marks; Herringswell, nine marks; Fornham St. Martin, three marks; Ingham, ten marks; Lackford, one hundred shillings; Elveden, ten marks; Cockfield, twenty marks; Semer-Semer, twelve marks; Groton, five marks; the moiety of the church of Fressingfield, fourteen marks; Beccles, twenty marks; Broc, fifteen marks; Hinderclay, ten marks; Warkton, ten marks; Scaldwell, five marks; Westley, five marks; the church in Norwich, two marks, over and above the payment of herrings; and two churches in Colchester, three marks, over and above the pension of four shillings; Chelsworth, one hundred shillings; Meringthorp, four marks; the moiety of the church of Bradfield in Norfolk, three marks; staffacres and fouracres, and the third part of the tithes of the lordships of Wrabness, six marks."
"These are the churches of the manors and socages of theAbbot: The church of Melford is worth forty pounds; Chevington, ten marks; Saxham, twelve marks; Hargrave, five marks; Brettenham, five marks; Boxford, one hundred shillings; Fornham Magna, one hundred shillings; Stow, one hundred shillings; Honington, five marks; Elmswell, three marks; Cotton, twelve marks; Brocford, five marks; Palgrave,ten marks; Great Horningsherth, five marks; Kingston, four marks; Harlow, nineteen marks; Stapleford, three marks; Tivetshall, one hundred shillings; Worlingworth cum Bedingfield, twenty marks; Soham, six marks; the moiety of the church of Wortham, one hundred shillings; Rungton, twenty marks; Thorp, six marks; Woolpit, over and above the pension, one hundred shillings; Rushbrook, five marks; the moiety of the church of Hopton, sixty shillings; Rickinghall, six marks; three parts of the church of Dickleburgh, each part being worth thirty shillings and upwards; the moiety of the church of Gislingham, four marks; Icklingham, six marks. Concerning the church of Mildenhall, which is worth forty marks, and of the moiety of the church of Wetherden, what shall I say? Wendling, one hundred shillings; the church of Len, ten marks; the church of Scaldwell, five marks; the church of Warkton ...
"These are the churches of the manors belonging to theConvent: Mildenhall, Barton, and Horningsherth, twenty-five marks, besides the pension; Rougham, fifteen marks, besides the pension; Bradfield, five marks; Pakenham, thirty marks; Southrey, one hundred shillings; Risby, twenty marks; Nowton, four marks; Whepstead, fourteen marks; Fornham St. Genevieve, fifteen marks; Herringswell, nine marks; Fornham St. Martin, three marks; Ingham, ten marks; Lackford, one hundred shillings; Elveden, ten marks; Cockfield, twenty marks; Semer-Semer, twelve marks; Groton, five marks; the moiety of the church of Fressingfield, fourteen marks; Beccles, twenty marks; Broc, fifteen marks; Hinderclay, ten marks; Warkton, ten marks; Scaldwell, five marks; Westley, five marks; the church in Norwich, two marks, over and above the payment of herrings; and two churches in Colchester, three marks, over and above the pension of four shillings; Chelsworth, one hundred shillings; Meringthorp, four marks; the moiety of the church of Bradfield in Norfolk, three marks; staffacres and fouracres, and the third part of the tithes of the lordships of Wrabness, six marks."
The two counties of Norfolk and Suffolk were put in the "mercy" of the King by the justices in eyre for some default, and fifty marks were put upon Norfolk, and thirty upon Suffolk. And when a certain portion of that common amerciament was assessed upon the lands of St. Edmund, and was sharply demanded, the abbot, without any delay, went to our lord the King. We found him at Clarendon; and when the charter of King Edward, which discharges all the lands of St. Edmund from all gelds and scots, had been shown to him, the King commanded by his writ that six knights of the county of Norfolk and six of Suffolk should be summoned to consider before the barons of the exchequer, whether the lordships of St. Edmund ought to be quit from common amerciament. To save trouble and expense, only six knights were chosen, and these for the reason that they had lands in either county; namely, Hubert of Briseword, W. Fitz-Hervey, and William of Francheville, and three others, who went to London with us, and on behalf of the two counties gave their verdict in favour of the liberty of our church. And thereupon the justices then sitting enrolled their verdict.
The abbot Samson entered into a contest with hisknights—himself against all, and all of them against him. He had stated to them that they ought to perform the service of fifty individual knights in escuages, in aids, and the like, because, as they themselves said, they held so many knights' fees. The point in dispute was, why ten of those fifty knights were to be without performing service, or by what reason or by whose authority the forty should receive the help of those ten knights. But they all answered with one voice, that such had ever been the custom, that is to say, that ten of them should assist the other forty, and that they could not thereupon—nor ought they thereupon—to answer, nor yet to implead.
When they were summoned in the King's court to answer hereupon, some, by arrangement, excused themselves from appearing, the others cunningly appeared, saying that they ought not to answer without their peers. On another occasion, those presented themselves who had first absented themselves, saying in like manner, that they ought not to answer without their peers who were joined with them in the same plaint. And when they had several times thus mocked the abbot, and had involved him in great and grievous expenses, the abbot complained ofthis to Hubert, the archbishop, then justiciary, who replied in open court that each knight ought to plead singly, and in respect of his own tenure, and said straight out that the abbot was clever enough and able enough to prove the rights of his church against all and every one of them. Then the earl, Roger Bigot, first of all freely confessed that, in law, he owed to his superior lord the abbot his service of three entire knights' fees, in reliefs as well as in escuages and aids; but, so far as concerned his performing castle-guard at the castle of Norwich, he said nothing.
Next came two of these knights, then three, and again more, until nearly all of them had come, and, by the earl's example, acknowledged the same service. Because such acknowledgment thereupon made in the court of St. Edmund was not sufficient in law, the abbot took all of them to London at his own charges, with the wives and women who were inherited of the lands so held, that they should make the acknowledgment in the King's court, and they all received separate charters of the concord thus made. Alberic de Vere and William of Hastings and two others were in the King's service beyond sea when this was done, and therefore the plaint concerning them was stayed. Alberic de Vere was the last who held outagainst the abbot; but as it was, the abbot seized and sold his cattle, wherefore it behoved him to come into court, and answer, as did his fellows. Taking advice upon it, he at length acknowledged to the abbot and St. Edmund their right.
The knights, therefore, being all defeated, a great profit would have accrued to the abbot from this victory unless he had been inclined to spare some of them; for so often as twenty shillings are charged upon a fee, there will remain twelve pounds to the abbot, and if more or less are assessed, more or less will remain over as a surplus to him, according to the strict apportionment. Also the abbot was wont, as were his predecessors, at the end of every twenty weeks to give seven shillings for the guard of the castle of Norwich out of his own purse, for default of three knights, whose fees Roger Bigot holds of St. Edmund. Each of the knights of four constabularies used to give twenty-eight pence when they entered to perform their guards, and one penny to the marshal who collected those pence; and they were accustomed to give twenty-eight pence and no more, because the ten knights of the fifth constabulary ought to assist the other forty, so that whereas they ought to have given three shillings entire, they only gave twenty-ninepence, and he whose duty it was to enter to perform his guard service at the end of four months, entered at the end of twenty weeks. But at the present time all the knights give the full three shillings, and there remains to the abbot the surplus which accrues beyond twenty-nine pence, from whence he can re-imburse himself of the aforesaid seven shillings. It is apparent what force had the words of the abbot which he spoke the first day, when he took the homage of his knights, as aforesaid, when all the knights promised him twenty shillings, and immediately revoked what they had said, refusing to give him more than forty pounds in one sum, alleging that ten knights ought to assist the other forty in aids and castle-guards, and all such like services.
There is certain land in Tivetshall of the abbot's fee, which used to pay to the watchmen of the castle of Norwich waite-fee, that is, twenty shillings per annum, payable five shillings on each of the four Ember fasts. This is an ancient customary payment which the abbot would well wish to do away with if he could, but considering his inability to do so, he has up to now held his peace and closed his eyes to it.
[FOR the purpose of diffusing the knowledge of the blessed King and martyr, we have annexed this, we hope not irrelevantly, to the foregoing. Not that I who am so insignificant a person, and of scarcely any account, should set it forth with a historical title; but insomuch as Master Jocelin, our almoner, a man of exalted piety, powerful in word and deed, did so begin it at the request and desire of his superior, I may look upon it as my own work, because, according to the precept of Seneca, whatever has been well said by another, I may without presumption ascribe to myself.
When the abbot came to Reading, and we with him, we were suitably entertained by the monks of that place, among whom we met Henry of Essex, a professed monk, who, having obtained an opportunity of speaking with the abbot, related to him and ourselves as we all sat together, how he was vanquishedin duel, and how and for what reason St. Edmund had confounded him in the very hour of battle. I therefore reduced his tale into writing by the command of the lord abbot, and wrote it in these words.
As it is impossible for us to shun evil unless it be apparent, we have thought it worthy to commit to historical record the acts and excesses of Henry of Essex, as a warning and not for imitation. The warnings that can be enforced by anecdotes are useful and beneficial. The aforesaid Henry, therefore, while in prosperity was in high esteem amongst the great men of the realm, a man of much account, of noble birth, conspicuous by deeds of arms, the king's standard-bearer, and feared by all on account of his power. His neighbours endowed the church of St. Edmund, the King and martyr, with possessions and rents; but he not only shut his eyes to this fact, but also by force and by injuries, with violence and evil speaking, wrongfully withheld an annual rent of five shillings, and converted it to his own use. Nay, indeed, in process of time, when a cause touching the rape of a certain damsel was prosecuted in the court of St. Edmund, the said Henry came thither, protesting and alleging that the same plaint by law ought to be decided in his court,in view of the birthplace of the same damsel, who was born within his lordship of Lailand; and by reason of this pretext he presumed to harass the court of St. Edmund with journeys and innumerable expenses for a long space of time.
In the meantime, in these and such like acts, fortune, smiling upon his desires, suddenly brought in upon him the cause of perpetual sorrow, and, under the appearance of a joyful beginning, she contrived for him a joyless end; for she is wont to smile that she may afterwards rage, to flatter that she may deceive, to raise up that she may cast down. All at once, there rose up against him Robert of Montfort, his kinsman and equal in birth and power, impeaching and accusing him before the princes of the land, of treason against the King. For he asserted that Henry, in the war with the Welsh, in the difficult pass of Coleshill, had traitorously thrown down the standard of our lord the King, and had with a loud voice proclaimed his death, and so turned to flight those who were hastening to his assistance. In point of fact, the aforesaid Henry of Essex did believe that the famous King Henry the Second, who had been intercepted by the stratagems of the Welsh, had been killed; and this would indeed have been thecase, if Roger Earl of Clare, illustrious (clarus) by reason of birth, and more illustrious by deeds of valour, had not come up in good time with his Clare men, and raised the standard of our lord the King, to the encouragement and heartening of the whole army. Henry, indeed, strenuously opposed the aforesaid Robert in a speech, and absolutely denied the accusation, so that after a short lapse of time it came to a trial by battle. And they came to Reading to fight in a certain island hard by the abbey; and thither also came a multitude to see what issue the matter would take.
Now it came to pass, while Robert of Montfort thundered upon him manfully with hard and frequent strokes, and a bold onset had promised the fruit of victory, Henry, his strength a little failing him, glanced round on all sides, and lo! on the border of the land and water he saw the glorious King and martyr, Edmund, armed, and as if hovering in the air, looking towards him with a severe countenance, shaking his head with threats of anger and indignation. He also saw with him another knight, Gilbert of Cereville, not only in appearance inferior, but less in stature from the shoulders, direct his eyes upon him as if angry and wrathful. This man, by the order of thesame Henry, had been afflicted with chains and torments, and had closed his days in prison at the instance and on the accusation of Henry's wife; who, turning her own wickedness upon an innocent person, stated that she could not endure the solicitations of Gilbert to unlawful love. Therefore, Henry, on sight of these apparitions, became anxious and fear-stricken, and remembered that old crime brings new shame. Becoming wholly desperate, and changing reason into violence, he assumed the part of one who attacked, not one who was on the defensive; who, while he struck fiercely, was more fiercely struck; and while he manfully fought, was more manfully attacked in his turn. In short, he fell vanquished.
As he was believed to be dead, upon the petition of the great men of England, his kinsmen, it was permitted that the monks of that place should give his body the rites of sepulture. Nevertheless, he afterwards recovered, and now with restored health, he has wiped out the blot upon his previous life under the regular habit, and in his endeavour to cleanse the long week of his dissolute life by at least one purifying sabbath, has so cultivated the studies of the virtues, as to bring forth the fruit of happiness.]
GEOFFREY Ridel, Bishop of Ely, sought from the abbot some timber for the purpose of constructing certain great buildings at Glemsford. This request the abbot granted, but against his will, not daring to offend him. Now the abbot making some stay at Melford, there came a certain clerk of the bishop, asking on behalf of his lord, that the promised timber might be taken at Elmswell; and he made a mistake in the word, saying Elmswell when he should have said Elmsett, which is the name of a certain wood at Melford. And the abbot was astonished at the request, for such timber was not to be found at Elmswell.
Now when Richard the forester of the same town had heard of this, he secretly informed the abbot that the bishop had the previous week sent his carpenters to spy out the wood of Elmsett, andhad chosen the best timber trees in the whole wood, and placed his marks thereon. On hearing this, the abbot directly discovered that the messenger of the bishop had made an error in his request, and answered that he would willingly do as the bishop pleased.
On the morrow, upon the departure of the messenger, immediately after he had heard mass, the abbot went into the before-named wood with his carpenters, and caused to be branded with his mark not only all the oaks previously marked, but more than a hundred others, for the use of St. Edmund, and for the steeple of the great tower, commanding that they should be felled as quickly as possible. When the bishop, by the answer of his messenger, understood that the aforesaid timber might be taken at Elmswell, he sent back the same messenger (whom he overwhelmed with many hard words) to the abbot, in order that he might correct the word which he had mistaken, by saying Elmsett, not Elmswell. But before he had come to the abbot, all the trees which the bishop desired and his carpenters had marked were felled. So the bishop, if he wanted timber, had to get other timber elsewhere. As for myself, when I witnessed this affair, I laughed, and said in my heart, "Thus art is deceived by art."
On the death of Abbot Hugh, the wardens of the abbey desired to depose the bailiffs of the town of St. Edmund, and to appoint new bailiffs of their own authority, saying that this appertained to the King, in whose hand the abbey then was. But we, complaining thereof, sent our messengers to lord Ranulf de Glanville, then justiciary. He answered, that he well knew that forty pounds a year ought to be paid from the town to our sacrist, specially for the lights of the church; and he said that Abbot Hugh, of his own will, and in his privy chamber, without the consent of the convent, had granted the bailiwick as often as he chose, and unto whom he chose, saving the forty pounds payable to the altar. And therefore it was not to be wondered at if the King's bailiffs required this same thing on the King's behalf. Speaking in bitter language, he called all our monks fools for having permitted our abbot to do such things, not considering that the chief duty of monks is to hold their peace, and pass over with closed eyes the excesses of their prelates; nor yet considering that they are called barrators if they, whether it be right or wrong, contravene their superiors in anything; and, further, that sometimes we are accused of treason and are condemned to prison and to exile. Whereforeit seems to myself and others the better counsel to die as confessors rather than as martyrs.
On the return of our messenger home, and on his relating what he had seen and heard, we, as being unwilling and, as it were, under compulsion, resolved, so far as we were able, that the old bailiffs of the town should be deposed, as well with the common consent of the convent, as by the keepers of the abbey. Samson, then sub-sacrist, was very reluctant to join in this proposition. However, when Samson was made abbot, he, calling to remembrance the wrong done to the abbey, on the morrow after the Easter following his election, caused to be assembled in our chapter-house the knights and clerks, and a number of the burgesses, and then in the presence of them all, said that the town belonged to the convent and to the altar, namely, to find tapers for the church; and that he was desirous of renewing the ancient custom, so that in the presence of the convent, and with the consent of all, some measure should be taken concerning the bailiwick of the town, and of such like matters which appertained to the convent.
At that time were nominated two burgesses, Godfrey and Nicholas, to be bailiffs; and a discussion taking place from whose hand they should receive the horn,which is called the moot-horn, at last they took it from the hands of the prior, who, next to the abbot, is head over the affairs of the convent.
Now these two bailiffs kept their bailiwick in peace many years, until they were said to be remiss in keeping the King's justice. On the abbot's suggestion that greater security should be given to the convent upon this point, they were removed, and Hugh the sacrist took the town into his own keeping, appointing new officers, who were to answer to him concerning the bailiwick. In process of time, I know not how, new bailiffs were subsequently appointed, and that elsewhere than in chapter, and without the concurrence of the church; wherefore a like or perhaps greater peril is to be apprehended after the decease of Abbot Samson than even was after the death of Abbot Hugh.
One of our brethren, too, fully relying upon the regard and friendship of the abbot, upon a fit opportunity and with propriety and decency, talked over the matter with him, asserting that dissatisfaction was expressed in the convent. But the abbot upon hearing this was silent for a long time, as if he was somewhat disturbed. At length he is reported to have said, "Am not I, even I, the abbot? Does it not belongto me alone to make order concerning the affairs of the church committed to my care, provided only that I should act with wisdom and according to God's will? If there should be default in the administration of the King's justice in this town, I shall be challenged for it; I shall be summoned; upon myself alone will rest the burden of the journey, and the expenses, and the defence of the town and its appurtenances; I alone shall be deemed a fool, not the prior, not the sacrist, nor yet the convent, but myself, who am and ought to be their head. Through me and my counsel, with God's assistance, will the town be securely preserved to the best of my ability, and safe also will be those forty pounds payable annually to the altar. Let the brethren grumble, let them slander me, let them say amongst themselves what they will, I am still their father and their abbot; so long as I live 'I will not give my glory to another.'" This said, that monk departed, and reported these answers to us.
I for my part marvelled at such sayings, and argued with myself in various ways. At length I was compelled to remain in a state of doubt, inasmuch as the rule of law says and teaches, that all things should be under the governance of the abbot.
The merchants of London claimed to be quit of toll at the fair of St. Edmund. Nevertheless many paid it, unwillingly indeed, and under compulsion; whereof a great tumult and commotion was made among the citizens in London at their hustings. They came in a body and informed Abbot Samson that they were entitled to be quit of toll throughout all England, by authority of the charter which they had from King Henry the Second. The abbot answered that were it necessary, he was well able to vouch the King to warrant that he had never granted them any charter to the prejudice of our church, or to the prejudice of the liberties of St. Edmund, to whom St. Edward had granted and confirmed toll and theam and all regalities before the conquest of England; and that King Henry had done no more than give to the Londoners an exemption from toll throughout his own lordships, and in places where he was able to grant it; but so far as concerned the town of St. Edmund he was not able so to do, for it was not his to dispose of. The Londoners, hearing this, ordered by common council that none of them should go to the fair of St. Edmund. For two years they kept away, whereby our fair sustained great loss, and the offering of thesacrist was much diminished. At last, upon the mediation of the Bishop of London and many others, it was settled between us and them that they should come to the fair, and that some of them should pay toll, but that it should be forthwith returned to them, that by such a colourable act the privilege on both sides should be preserved.
But in process of time, when the abbot had made agreement with his knights, and as it were slept in tranquillity, behold again "the Philistines be upon thee, Samson!" Lo! the Londoners, with one voice, were threatening that they would lay level with the earth the stone houses which the abbot had built that very year, or that they would take distress by a hundredfold from the men of St. Edmund, unless the abbot forthwith redressed the wrong done them by the bailiffs of the town of St. Edmund, who had taken fifteen pence from the carts of the citizens of London, who in their way from Yarmouth, laden with herrings, had made passage through our demesnes. Furthermore, the citizens of London said that they were quit of toll in every market, and on every occasion, and in every place throughout all England, from the time when Rome was first founded, and that London was founded at the verysame time. Also, that they ought to have such an exemption throughout all England, as well by reason of its being a privileged city, which was of old time the metropolis and head of the kingdom, as by reason of its antiquity. The abbot asked that the matter might be deferred until the return of our lord the King to England, that he might consult with him upon this; and having taken advice of the lawyers, he replevied to the claimants those fifteen pence, without prejudice to the question of each party's right.
In the tenth year of the abbacy of Abbot Samson, by the common counsel of our chapter, we complained to the abbot in his own hall, stating that the rents and issues of all the good towns and boroughs of England were increasing and augmenting, to the profit of the possessors, and the well-thriving of their lords, all except this our town, which had long yielded forty pounds, and had never gone beyond that sum; and that the burgesses of the town were the cause of this thing. For they held so large and so many standings in the market-place, of shops and sheds and stalls, without the assent of the convent, indeed from the sole gift of the bailiffs of the town, who in old time were but yearly renters, and, as it were, ministers of the sacrist, and wereremovable at his good pleasure. The burgesses, being summoned, made answer that they were under the jurisdiction of the King's courts, nor would they make answer in derogation of the immunity of the town and their charters, in respect of the tenements which they and their fathers had holden well and peaceably for one year and a day without claim. They also said the old custom had been that the bailiffs should, without the interference of the convent, dispose of the places of the shops and sheds in the market-place, in consideration of a certain rent payable yearly to the bailiwick. But we, gainsaying this, were desirous that the abbot should disseise them of tenements for which they had no warranty.
Now the abbot coming to our council, as if he were one of us, said to us in private, that he was willing enough to do us right, according to the best of his ability, but that he, nevertheless, was bound to proceed in due course of law; nor could he, without the judgment of a court, disseise his free men of their lands or rents, which they had held for many years, were it justly or unjustly. If he should do this, he said, he should fall into the King's mercy by the assize of the realm. Therefore, the burgesses, taking counsel together, offered to the convent arent of one hundred shillings for the sake of peace; and that they should hold their tenements as they had been wont to do. But we, on the other hand, were by no means willing to grant this, rather desiring to put that plaint in respite, hoping, perhaps, in the time of another abbot, to recover all, or change the place of the fair; and so the affair was deferred for many years.
When the abbot had returned from Germany, the burgesses offered him sixty marks, and sued for his confirmation of the liberties of the town, under the same form of words as Anselm, and Ording, and Hugh had confirmed them; all which the abbot graciously accorded. Notwithstanding our murmuring and grumbling, a charter was accordingly made to them in the terms of his promise; and because it would have been a shame and confusion to him if he had not been able to fulfil his promise, we were not willing to contradict him, or provoke him to anger.
The burgesses, indeed, from the period when they had the charter of Abbot Samson and the convent, became more confident that they, at least in the time of Abbot Samson, would not lose their tenements or their franchises; so that never afterwards, as they did before, were they willing to pay or offer thebefore-named rent of one hundred shillings. At length, however, the abbot giving attention to this matter, discoursed with the burgesses hereupon, saying that unless they made their peace with the convent, he should forbid their erecting their booths at the fair of St. Edmund.
They, on the other hand, answered that they were willing to give every year a silken cope, or some other ornament, to the value of one hundred shillings, as they had before promised to do; but nevertheless, upon this condition, that they were to be for ever quit of the tithes of their profits, which the sacrist sharply demanded of them. The abbot and the sacrist both refused this, and therefore the plaint was again put in respite.
In point of fact, we have from that time to the present lost those hundred shillings, according to the old saying, "He that will not when he may, when he will he shall have nay."