ST. ALBAN’S ABBEY.—Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester.—The anecdote of this worthy, referred to in the text, is thus told by Grafton in his Chronicles, ii. 630:—“This Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, descending of the blood royal, was not only noble and valyant in all his actes and doings, but sage, politique, and notably well learned in the ciuile law. And among his other worthy prayses, this followyng is not to be forgotten, which most liuely and plainley declareth him to be both prudent and wyse, and to his great laude and prayse is written, and set forth by Sir Thomas Moore, knight, in this wyse following:—‘In the reign of King Henry the Sixt,’ saith he, ‘there came to the towne ofSainct Albonsa certaine beggar with his wyfe, and there was walkeng about the towne begging fiue or six dayes, before the kinges comming thether; sayeing that he was born blinde, and never sawe in all his lyfe, and was warned in hys dreme that he should come out of Berwike, where he saide that he had ever dwelled, to seke Sainct Albon, and that he had been at hys Shrine, and was not holpen, and therefore he would go seeke him at some other place: for he had heard some saye sinse he came, that Sainct Albons body should be at Colyn (Cologne), and indede such a contention hath there bene. But of a truth, as I am certainly informed,’ sayth Sir Thomas Moore, ‘he lyeth here at Sainct Albons, saveing some reliques of him which theye there shewe shryned. But to tell you foorth, when the kinge was come, and the towne full of people, sodainely this blinde man at Sainct Albones Shryne had his sight, and the same was solemnly rong for a miracle, andTe Deumsongen; so that nothing was talked of in all the towne but thismiracle. So happened it then, that Duke Humffrey of Gloucester, a man no lesse wise than also well learned, having great joy to see suche a miracle, called the poore man unto him, and first shewyng himself joyous of God’s glorie, so shewed in the getting of hys sight, and exhorting him to meeknesse, and to no ascrybing of any part of the worship to himselfe, not to be prowde of the people’s prayse, which would call hym a good and a godlie man thereby. At last he looked well upon his eyen, and asked whether he could ever see any thing at al, in all hys lyfe before. And when as well hys wyfe as himselfe affirmed fastlie ‘No!’ then he looked advisedly upon hys eyen agayne, and sayde, ‘I beleue you very well, for methinketh that ye cannot see well yet.’ ‘O yes, Sir,’ quoth he, ‘I thanke God and his holy martir, I can see now as well as any man.’ ‘You can,’ quod the duke; ‘what colour is my gowne?’ Then anon the beggar tolde hym. ‘What colour,’ quod he, ‘is this man’s gowne?’ He told him also, without anye stayeng or stombling, and told the names ofall the colours that coulde be shewed. And when the duke sawe that he bade him, walke faytoure, that is to say, vagabond; and made him to be set
openly in the stockes: for though he could have seen sodaynely, by miracle, the difference betwene dyvers coloures, yet could he not by sight so sodainely tell the names of all these coloures, except he had knowne them before, no more than he coulde name all the men whom he should sodainely see.’ Thus far Maystir Moore.” Reference has been already made to the play in which Shakspeare has made use of the above, as the ground of a very amusing dialogue, into which he has infused much additional humour; and thus concludes:—
“Glo.Then, Saunder, sit thou there, the lying’st knaveIn Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind,Thou might’st as well have known our names, as thusTo name the several colours we do wear.Sight may distinguish colours; but suddenlyTo nominate them all’s impossible.My lords, Saint Alban here hath done a miracle;And would ye not think that cunning to be greatThat could restore this cripple to his legs again,” &c.
“Glo.Then, Saunder, sit thou there, the lying’st knaveIn Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind,Thou might’st as well have known our names, as thusTo name the several colours we do wear.Sight may distinguish colours; but suddenlyTo nominate them all’s impossible.My lords, Saint Alban here hath done a miracle;And would ye not think that cunning to be greatThat could restore this cripple to his legs again,” &c.
“Glo.Then, Saunder, sit thou there, the lying’st knaveIn Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind,Thou might’st as well have known our names, as thusTo name the several colours we do wear.Sight may distinguish colours; but suddenlyTo nominate them all’s impossible.My lords, Saint Alban here hath done a miracle;And would ye not think that cunning to be greatThat could restore this cripple to his legs again,” &c.
Gloucester accordingly advises the application of the whip, and finds that the cripple is suddenly transformed into an athlete, with the full and free use of his limbs. Such were the devotees usually met with in places of pilgrimage—and such the miracles that obtained ready belief in the vulgar mind.
The Priory of Tinmouth in Northumberland was a cell of St. Alban’s Abbey. “One Simon of Tinmouth claimed a right to two corodies, or the maintenance of two persons in the priory; but which the prior and monks denied. This cause was brought before the Abbot of St. Alban’s and his Court-baron, who appointed it to be tried by combat on a certain day before him and his barons. Ralf Gubion, prior of Tinmouth, appeared at the time and place appointed, attended by his champion, one William Pegun, a man of gigantic stature. The combat was fought. Pegun was defeated, and the prior lost his cause; at which he was so much chagrined, that he immediately resigned his office.” This judicial combat is the more remarkable, that it was fought in the court of a spiritual baron, and that one of the parties was a priest.
ELTHAM HALL,p. 111.—It was whilst residing at his Palace of Eltham that King Richard II. resolved upon the murder of the Duke of Gloucester. “Unable,” says Froissart, “to conceal any longer the great hatred he bore to his uncle, he determined to have him cut off according to the advice given him, namely, that ‘it was more advisable to destroy than to be destroyed.’ Accordingly, the king having rode to the Castle ofPleshy, about thirty miles from London, with fair words cajoled the duke out of his castle, and was attended by him to a lane that led to the Thames, where they arrived between ten and eleven o’clock at night. Here the Earl-Marshal, who there lay in ambush, arrested him in the king’s name, and forced him towards the Thames in spite of his cries to the king to deliver him. He was conscious, from the moment of his being thus arrested, that his end was resolved on; and it was confirmed to him by the king turning a deaf car to his complaints, and riding on full gallop to London, where he lodged that night in the Tower. The Duke of Gloucester had other lodgings; for whether he would or not, he was forced into a boat that carried him to a vessel at anchor in the Thames, into which he was compelled to enter. The Earl-Marshal embarked also with his men, and having a favourable wind and tide, they fell down the river, and arrived late on the morrow evening at Calais, without any one knowing it but the king’s officers. The Earl-Marshal, as governor, could enter Calais at all hours, without any one thinking it strange: so he carried the duke to the castle, and there placed him in confinement.... In the meantime King Richard, leaving the Tower at an early hour, rode to his palace ofElthamand there remained; while the same day toward evening, the Earls of Arundel and Warwick were both brought to the Tower and there confined, to the great surprise of the citizens. But to return to Calais: When the Duke of Gloucester saw himself shut up in the castle, abandoned by his brothers, and deprived of his attendants, he began to feel alarmed; and addressing himself to the Earl-Marshal—‘For what reason,’ he inquired, ‘am I thus carried from England, and confined here? Do you mean to retain me a close prisoner? Let me go and view the castle, the garrison, and the people of the town.’ ‘My lord,’ replied the earl, ‘I dare not comply with your demands; for you are consigned to my guard, under pain of death. The king, our lord, is at this moment somewhat wroth with you; and it is his orders that you abide here awhile in banishment with us, which you must have patience to do until we haveother news, and God grant that it may be soon! for as the Lord liveth, I am truly concerned for your disgrace, and would cheerfully aid you if I could;
but knowing the oath I have taken to the king, you know I am bound in honour to obey.’ This was the only answer the Duke of Gloucester could obtain; he too well judged from appearances, that his life was in jeopardy; and asked the priest who had said mass, if he would confess him. This he did with great calmness and resignation; and with a devout and contrite heart, cried before the altar of God, the Creator of all things, for his mercy and forgiveness. He was repentant of all his sins, and lamented them greatly. He was right thus to exonerate his conscience, for his end was nearer than he imagined: for being on the point of sitting down to dinner, while he was washing his hands, four men rushed suddenly out from an adjoining chamber, and, throwing a towel round his neck, strangled him by two drawing one end and two the other. When he was quite dead they carried him to his chamber, undressed him, and placed the body between two sheets with his head on a pillow, and covered him with furred mantles. They then re-entered the hall, properly instructed what to say and how to act, and declared that the Duke of Gloucester had been seized with an apoplexy as he was washing his hands before dinner, and that they had great difficulty to carry him to bed. This was the report published in the garrison and the town, where some believed it, and others not. Within two days after, it was published abroad that the duke had died in his bed at the Castle of Calais; and in consequence the Earl-Marshal, who was the duke’s near relation, put on mourning, as did all the knights and squires in the town of Calais.” As to the manner of his death, it appears by the confession of Hall, one of the accomplices, that the duke was smothered with pillows, not strangled, as Froissart was informed.
TEWKESBURY,p. 167.—By papers in the Bodleian Lib. Hist. of Tewkesb. 107, 1574, it appears, that on the twenty-fourth of July, being fair day, such a quantity of bats came floating down the river Avon, at Tewkesbury, that they covered the surface of the water for above a land’s length, in heaps above a foot thick, which so dammed up the mills for three days, that they could not go till the bats were dug out with shovels!
Page 189,A.D.1578.—In the churchwardens’ book of accounts for this year, are the items here annexed:—“Payd for the plaiers geers six sheepskins for Christ’s garments,” ibid. 1585. “Order eight heads of hair for the Apostles, and ten beards, and a face or visor for the Devel,”—which show that mysteries, as plays were then called, were probably acted in the churches. In Italy the practice is still kept up, as every traveller in that and other parts of the Continent has observed; particularly during the Christmas festival, when nearly every church and convent have exhibitions of the Saviour’s birth, and the miraculous circumstances attending it.
KENILWORTH CASTLE,p. 211.—Thomas de la Moore, in his Life and Death of Edward II., relates the following, as part of the cruel and insulting treatment to which the unhappy sovereign was subjected by his keepers, on leaving Kenilworth for Berkeley Castle. It is of a serio-comic nature; but no reader who ever held a razor, but will sympathize with the wretched monarch in his stipulations for at least the indulgence ofwarm water, under such an operation:—“Attestamur et scribimus quæ luce clariora innotuerunt mundo, si non timor æmulorum regis devotissimi adhuc superstitis clarere prohiberet, quæ non poterint occultare. Tum abducitur Edwardus (ut præscriptum est) versus Berkleyam à satrapis Sathanæ equitans stipatus, duxerunt etiam exemplar patientiæ per grangias Castri Bristollii, ubi de fœno factam coronam capiti jumdudum oleo sancto consecrato imposuit nefarius ille de Gorney, ausus contingere Christum Dei, cui illudentes ironia nimis acerba milites dixerunt,Fareforth Syr Kynge. Metuentes maligni, ne pariter directè incedentibus obuiaret aliquis amicus Edwardi et manus misericors ipsum liberatura, declinauerunt ad Smischam per mariscum ad flumen Sabrinæ terminatum. Excogitârunt inimici Dei quomodo Edwardum deformarent, ne foret facilè notus. Vnde cauariem et barbam radendas cōstituerunt. Venientes proinde in itinere ad fossam, iusserunt ipsum radendū descendere. Cui assidenti super cujusdam talpæ monticulum pelvimaqua frigida de fossa recepta attulit barbitonsor. Cui et aliis asserentibus quod aqua talis pro tune deberet sufficere, ait Edwardus—Velitis, nolitis, habebimus pro barba aquas calidas; et ut promissum consequeretur veritas, cepit profuse lachrymare. Ita mihi retulit viuens post magnam pestilentiam Gulielmus Bischop, qui ductoribus Edwardi sodalis, unde confessus et contritus pœnituit, sub spe misericordiæ divinæ.”—P. 602, edit. Francofort.
“This Kyng Herolde at Waltam, which he found,Of foure score chanons, full fayre was buryedAt the hye aulter, and as a kyng was crownde,All yf he were intrusor notifyed,And in batayl slayne and victoryed,Of gentylnesse the Conquerour bad soAs yf he were afore his mortall fo.”—Hardyng, 3234.
“This Kyng Herolde at Waltam, which he found,Of foure score chanons, full fayre was buryedAt the hye aulter, and as a kyng was crownde,All yf he were intrusor notifyed,And in batayl slayne and victoryed,Of gentylnesse the Conquerour bad soAs yf he were afore his mortall fo.”—Hardyng, 3234.
“This Kyng Herolde at Waltam, which he found,Of foure score chanons, full fayre was buryedAt the hye aulter, and as a kyng was crownde,All yf he were intrusor notifyed,And in batayl slayne and victoryed,Of gentylnesse the Conquerour bad soAs yf he were afore his mortall fo.”—Hardyng, 3234.
WALTHAM.—Death of Harold, Text,p. 266.—“Ipse carens omni decore quibusdam signis nequaquam facie recognitus est, et in castra Ducis delatus qui tumulandum eum Guillelmo agnomine Maletto concessit, non matri pro corpore delectæ prolis auri par pondus offerenti.” The quantity of gold which Harold’s mother is here related to have offered to the victorious duke for the body of her son, may be reasonably estimated, as Maseres has shown in a note on this passage of the “Gesta Guillelmi,” at eleven thousand pounds. The supposed visit of Harold’s mother to the field of battle in search of his body, and that of Edith with the Swan’s neck—mentioned in the text, who finally discovered it by some secret token—are thus described in a MS. ballad on the subject:—
“The day is lost! The din of war is hushed on Hastings’ field:In triumph rolls the Norman car o’er England’s trampled shield.‘Prepare the feast!’ Duke William cries. The midnight feast is spread;And there, in gilded canopies, they banquet ’midst the dead!The bowl is drained, the oath renewed of fealty to their Chief;But how shall gilded tents exclude the wail of woman’s grief!‘Where is my son?’ a mother cries; ‘his corse but to behold,And lay it where his kindred lies, I’ll give its weight in gold!’‘Thy son is slain! his crown is sold! Duke William wears it now;We’ll give thee iron for thy gold—Lady, what more would’st thou?’She heard and wept—then faltered on: her heart with anguish bled,As wistfully she gazed upon the faces of the dead!But ’midst the thousand forms of death that show’d the ghastly wound.And weltering strew’d the gory heath, herHaroldwas not found!She sat her down and wept aloud: and sighed—‘Undone—undone!Now lay me in the hallowed shroud that should have wrapt my son!’* * * * *At length the gentle Edith came, led by a holy man,And, lighted by a taper’s flame, again the search began.Darkly her raven tresses hung upon her neck of snow,And still her lily hands she wrung in ecstacy of woe!Around her,Harold’swarriors true lay heaped upon the plain,Where high the Norman banner flew insulting o’er the slain;A friar of Waltham’s Holy Rood stood in that mournful ring,And wiping off the clotted blood—‘Oh, Christ! is this the king?’Down to the earth fair Edith bent, upraised the lifeless head,And ’neath the light that taper lent, gazed wildly on the dead!One pause of fearful agony—a breathless, deep suspense—Was visible in every eye, and felt in every sense!
“The day is lost! The din of war is hushed on Hastings’ field:In triumph rolls the Norman car o’er England’s trampled shield.‘Prepare the feast!’ Duke William cries. The midnight feast is spread;And there, in gilded canopies, they banquet ’midst the dead!The bowl is drained, the oath renewed of fealty to their Chief;But how shall gilded tents exclude the wail of woman’s grief!‘Where is my son?’ a mother cries; ‘his corse but to behold,And lay it where his kindred lies, I’ll give its weight in gold!’‘Thy son is slain! his crown is sold! Duke William wears it now;We’ll give thee iron for thy gold—Lady, what more would’st thou?’She heard and wept—then faltered on: her heart with anguish bled,As wistfully she gazed upon the faces of the dead!But ’midst the thousand forms of death that show’d the ghastly wound.And weltering strew’d the gory heath, herHaroldwas not found!She sat her down and wept aloud: and sighed—‘Undone—undone!Now lay me in the hallowed shroud that should have wrapt my son!’* * * * *At length the gentle Edith came, led by a holy man,And, lighted by a taper’s flame, again the search began.Darkly her raven tresses hung upon her neck of snow,And still her lily hands she wrung in ecstacy of woe!Around her,Harold’swarriors true lay heaped upon the plain,Where high the Norman banner flew insulting o’er the slain;A friar of Waltham’s Holy Rood stood in that mournful ring,And wiping off the clotted blood—‘Oh, Christ! is this the king?’Down to the earth fair Edith bent, upraised the lifeless head,And ’neath the light that taper lent, gazed wildly on the dead!One pause of fearful agony—a breathless, deep suspense—Was visible in every eye, and felt in every sense!
“The day is lost! The din of war is hushed on Hastings’ field:In triumph rolls the Norman car o’er England’s trampled shield.‘Prepare the feast!’ Duke William cries. The midnight feast is spread;And there, in gilded canopies, they banquet ’midst the dead!The bowl is drained, the oath renewed of fealty to their Chief;But how shall gilded tents exclude the wail of woman’s grief!‘Where is my son?’ a mother cries; ‘his corse but to behold,And lay it where his kindred lies, I’ll give its weight in gold!’‘Thy son is slain! his crown is sold! Duke William wears it now;We’ll give thee iron for thy gold—Lady, what more would’st thou?’She heard and wept—then faltered on: her heart with anguish bled,As wistfully she gazed upon the faces of the dead!But ’midst the thousand forms of death that show’d the ghastly wound.And weltering strew’d the gory heath, herHaroldwas not found!She sat her down and wept aloud: and sighed—‘Undone—undone!Now lay me in the hallowed shroud that should have wrapt my son!’* * * * *At length the gentle Edith came, led by a holy man,And, lighted by a taper’s flame, again the search began.Darkly her raven tresses hung upon her neck of snow,And still her lily hands she wrung in ecstacy of woe!Around her,Harold’swarriors true lay heaped upon the plain,Where high the Norman banner flew insulting o’er the slain;A friar of Waltham’s Holy Rood stood in that mournful ring,And wiping off the clotted blood—‘Oh, Christ! is this the king?’Down to the earth fair Edith bent, upraised the lifeless head,And ’neath the light that taper lent, gazed wildly on the dead!One pause of fearful agony—a breathless, deep suspense—Was visible in every eye, and felt in every sense!
There, like a cedar in his pride struck down, a warrior lay;And here extended at his side a chieftain’s proud array.They scann’d his features o’er and o’er, but ’wildered was their view,Until the secret mark appeared, which Edith only knew—And then a shrill and piercing shriek the fearful truth confess’d,The hue of death was on her cheek—she sunk upon his breast!But Harold’s lip and Harold’s eye, in cold forgetfulnessFor ever sealed, made no reply to Edith’s frantic kiss.Oh, must I see thee thus, and live? Yet Heaven be witness here,How gladly would thy Edith give her bosom for thy bier!’”* * * * *
There, like a cedar in his pride struck down, a warrior lay;And here extended at his side a chieftain’s proud array.They scann’d his features o’er and o’er, but ’wildered was their view,Until the secret mark appeared, which Edith only knew—And then a shrill and piercing shriek the fearful truth confess’d,The hue of death was on her cheek—she sunk upon his breast!But Harold’s lip and Harold’s eye, in cold forgetfulnessFor ever sealed, made no reply to Edith’s frantic kiss.Oh, must I see thee thus, and live? Yet Heaven be witness here,How gladly would thy Edith give her bosom for thy bier!’”* * * * *
There, like a cedar in his pride struck down, a warrior lay;And here extended at his side a chieftain’s proud array.They scann’d his features o’er and o’er, but ’wildered was their view,Until the secret mark appeared, which Edith only knew—And then a shrill and piercing shriek the fearful truth confess’d,The hue of death was on her cheek—she sunk upon his breast!But Harold’s lip and Harold’s eye, in cold forgetfulnessFor ever sealed, made no reply to Edith’s frantic kiss.Oh, must I see thee thus, and live? Yet Heaven be witness here,How gladly would thy Edith give her bosom for thy bier!’”* * * * *
ROCHESTER CASTLE.—Anno dominicæ incarnationis DCCCI. nativitatis autem Ælfredi regis xxxiv. exercitus in duas turmas divisit. Una etenim turma in orientalem Franciam perrexit; et altera ad Britanniam veniens, Cantium adiit; civitatemq’, quæ Hrofceastre Saxonicè dicitur, in orientali ripa fluminis Medwæg sitam obsedit. Ante hujus portam pagani Castellum ibimet firmum subitò fabricauerunt. Nec tamen illam civitatem expugnare potuerunt; quia cives illi se viriliter defenderunt, quousque Ælfred rex cū magno exercitu adiutorium illis conferens superuenit. Et tunc pagani relicta arce sua et omnibus equis, quos de Francia secum adduxerant derelictis; maxima parte nec non captiuorum suorum in arce dimissa adueniente subitò rege, ad naues suas confestim confugiunt. Et Saxones statim derelictos à paganis captiuos et equos diripiunt.—Asser. de Ælfred. Reb. Gest. fol. 11.
CARISBROOKE CASTLE,p. 284.—Of the circumstances mentioned in the text, the following is the relation given by the learned monk already quoted:—“Rogerius verò de Britolio, Comes Herefordensis ad curiam regis vocatus venit, et inquisitus manifestam toti mundo proditionem negare non potuit. Igitùr secundùmleges Normanorumjudicatus est, et amissa omni hæreditate terrena, in carcere Regis perpetuò damnatus est. Ibi etiam Regi multoties detraxit, et contumacibus actis, implacabiliter offendit. Nam quondam, dum plebs Dei Paschale festum congruè celebraret, et Rex structum preciosarum vestium Rogerio Comiti per idoneos satellites in ergastulo mitteret; ille pyram ingentem antè se jussit præparari, et ibidem, Regalia ornamenta, chlamydem sericamq’ interulam, et renonem de preciosis pellibus peregrinorummuriumsubitò comburi. Quod audiens Rex iratus dixit: ‘Multùm superbus est qui hoc mihi dedecus fecit; sed,per splendorem Dei, de carcere mea in omni vita mea non exibit.’ Sententia regis tàm fixa permansit, quòd nec etiam post mortem Regis ipse, nisi mortuus, de vinculis exiit. Rainaldus et Rogerius filii ejus, optimi tirones, Henrico Regi famulantur et clementiam ejus—quæ tardissima iis visa est—in duris agonibus præstolantur.” In commenting upon the above passage, a learned writer has made the following remarks:—“It appears from the text that Roger, Earl of Hereford, was brought to his trial before the king’s court, or council of theproceres, or great men of the kingdom, and was condemned by them to suffer perpetual imprisonment, with the loss of all his inheritance. So that, in this instance, as well as in the case of Ralph de Guader, the said court or council appear to have acted as a court of criminal jurisdiction. But it seems remarkable that the judgment they passed upon this great and notorious rebel, who could not, and did not, deny the crime he was charged with, should not have extended to his life; more especially, as Waltheof, Earl of Northampton, who had refused to have any share in the rebellion raised by the other two earls, and had only been guilty of concealing his knowledge of their intentions, was, in a short time after, condemned to lose his life for that lesser offence, and was, as stated in the text, actually beheaded at Winchester. One would almost suspect that they were tried by two different laws; namely, Roger, Lord of the Isle of Wight, who was a Norman, by thelaw of Normandy; and Waltheof, Earl of Northampton, who was an Englishman, by thelaw of England; and that the Norman law of that period did not punish high treason with death, although the English law did. With respect to thegarments sent by the king to this haughty prisoner, they are understood by commentators on the original passage to have consisted of—First, an outer
garment or coat; secondly, an inner garment or waistcoat, made of silk; and thirdly, a short cloak to be thrown over the shoulders, and that reached only to the waist, made of the rich furs of some foreign animals, which the author calls mice (murium), and were probably either ermines or martins. It is also conjectured that the present thus sent to the earl was a set of robes, suited to the rank and office of Earl of Hereford, which he had lately held, and to which it might have been King William’s intention to restore him, “if his inconceivable pride had not prevented it.”
In his interesting notice of the lives and fortunes of this great family, the learned monk of Utica concludes with these striking moral reflections on the transitory nature of all human grandeur:—“Verè gloria mundi, ut flos fœni decidit et arescit; ac, velut fumus deficit et transit. Ubi estGulielmus Osberni filius, Herefordensis Comes, et Regis Vicarius, Normanniæ dapifer, et magister militum bellicosus? Hic nimirùm primus et maximus oppressor Anglorum fuit, et enormem causam per temeritatem suam enutrivit, per quam millibus ruina miseræ mortis incubuit. Verùm justus Judex omnia videt, et unicuique, prout meretur, redhibet. Proh dolor! ecceGulielmuscorruit, audax athleta recipit quod promeruit. Ut multos ense trucidavit, ipse quoque ferro repentè interiit. Denique post ejus occasum antequam lustrum compleretur annorum, spiritus discordiæ filium ejus et generum contra dominum suum et cognatum hostiliter excivit, qui Sichimitas contrà Abimelech (quem occicisLXX.filiis Jerobaal sibi præfecerant) commovit! En veracitur à me descripta est offensa, pro quaGuillelmiprogenies eradicata sic est de Anglia, ut nec passum pedis, nisi fallor, jam nanciscatur in illa.” Duchesne—Excerp. Order. Vital. De Gul. primo rege Anglorum 322. Selecta Monumenta.
That the Conqueror’s philosophy was not proof against any little disappointment of the palate is evident from the following anecdote:—“When his prime favourite, William Fitz-Osborne, steward of his household, served him with the flesh of a crane scarcely half roasted, he was so highly exasperated that he lifted up his fist, and would have struck him had not Eudo, appointed ‘dapifer,’ immediately after warded off the blow.”—Warner, i. 307.
Itwas to the Isle of Wight that the Earl of Warwick—when brought to trial along with the Earl of Arundel—was banished in these terms: “Earl of Warwick! this sentence is very favourable, for you have deserved to die as much as the Earl of Arundel; but the handsome services you have done in time past to King Edward, of happy memory, and the Prince of Wales, his son, as well on this as on the other side of the sea, have secured your life; but it is ordered, that you banish yourself to the Isle ofWight, taking with you a sufficiency of wealth to support your state so long as you shall live, and that you never quit the island.”—Froissart.
Thepassage referred to Monstrelet in the text, is as follows:—“In this year Waleran, Comte de St. Pol, assembled at Abbeville, in Ponthieu, about sixteen hundred fighting men: among whom were numbers of the nobility, who had made great provisions of salted meats, biscuits, wines, brandy, flour, and other things necessary on board of ships. From Abbeville the Count led them to Harfleur, where they found vessels of all descriptions ready to receive them. When they had remained there some days, to arrange their matters and to recommend themselves to St. Nicholas (the sailors’ patron-saint), they embarked on board these vessels, and sailed direct for the Isle ofWight. Landing on the island, they made a bold countenance to face their enemies, of whom they had seen but little on their landing; for all, or at least the greater part of the islanders, had retreated to the woods and fortresses. In the meantime several new knights were created by the Count; namely, Philippe de Harcourt, Jean de Fosseux, Lord of Guiency, and others, who went to burn some miserable villages, and set fire to some other places. In the meanwhile a sensiblepriestof the island came to the Count to treat for the ransom and security of the island; for which he gave the Count to understand that a very large sum of money would be paid to him and his captains. The Count lent a ready ear to this proposal; but it was a mere ruse on the part of the priest to delay their operations, till the military force of the island could be brought together. Waleran discovered the plot, but it was too late to take revenge; and re-embarking his men in all haste, set sail, and returned home without doing anything more. The nobles were much displeased at this conduct; for they had expended large sums in laying in stores for the expedition, which, after all, was completely defeated by a single priest.”—Monstrelet, vol. i. 32.
NETLEY ABBEY.The following incident—interesting as connected with the ruins—is related by Digby in his Mores Catholici:—“I found a stranger,” says he, “once inNetley, on the eve ofSt. John, standing contemplative, who, after some space, accosted me. It was some holy solitary man, who told me he had been singingvespersto himself within the ruins of the church, and a thought had been suggested to him by a verse of the Magnificat, which he was eager to communicate. ‘The poor persecuted monks,’ said he, ‘are now for ever blessed in the centre of all felicity, while the proud, who made their dwelling-place a heap of ruins, as we see, have been scattered in the conceit of their heart, and dispersed through all the wastes of doubt, distrust, and error.’ Thus did the ruins assist his meditation.” The elder Pliny observes, that the houses which had been once inhabited by heroes of a noble race, lamented when they passed to new and unworthy masters; and that the very walls reproached the cowards who entered a place consecrated by the monuments of virtue.” A modern author also says, “It may be generally remarked, that the more nobly a mansion has been tenanted in the day of its prosperity, the viler are its inhabitants in the day of its decline. Thus, boors are the only inhabitants of Croyland, gipsies ofNetley, while other religious houses are now possessed by the same class as that which caused their overthrow.”