CHAPTER III
THE ABBEY
Eoves here dwelt and was a swain,
Wherefore men call this Eovesholme.
—LEGEND ON MONASTIC SEAL.
(Modernised.)
THE FOUNDING OF THE ABBEY
In the dim ages of antiquity, when the face of the country, now busy and fertile, was one dense forest, with here and there a settlement of dwellers in huts, tillers of the land, herdsmen, or hunters, there lived near the spot now occupied by the thriving town of Evesham a swineherd named Eoves. One day, we are told, a favourite sow was missing, and her master hunted brake and briar, far and near, in search of her. While on this errand he penetrated far into the depths of the forest, when suddenly he was startled by a radiant light, in which appeared three figures of women dazzling by their beauty. The vision faded, and on the spot the joyful herdsman discovered his sow with a litter of young.
The news was soon noised abroad, and at length reached the ears of Egwin, the Bishop of the diocese, at Worcester. Egwin inquired into the matter, visited the place, and was himself rewarded by the appearance of the three figures, whom he pronounced to be no other than the Virgin Mary with two attendant angels. Moreover, he was commanded by the Holy Virgin to build a church in that very place. The Bishop, we know, built a church here, founded a monastery, and himself became first abbot. These events occurred early in the eighth century.
Egwin was a man of high connections and influence, and before long the new institution was handsomely and sufficiently endowed. Ethelred, King of Mercia, his nephew Kenred, who succeeded him, and Offa, King of the East Saxons, being the chief donors.
There is another picturesque legend concerning Egwin, which is preserved in the coat-of-arms used by the monastery. It appears that the prelate was falsely charged with certain offences, and to prove his innocence he made a journey to Rome; but before setting off, he fastened a chain and horselock to his ankle and threw the key into the river Avon. On his arrival in the Holy City, a fish was caught by his companions in whose belly the very key was found which had been cast into the river before his departure! Another account relates that the fish who had swallowed the key leapt on board before the travellers reached their destination! The legend of the foundation of the Abbey is engraved on the conventual seal in a series of scenes; and we know it was also depicted in the glass of one of the large windows in the church.
How far the events of this early time are historical, how far traditionary, or even mythical, it is impossible to say, but for many years afterwards the record gives us merely the scanty information we should expect. We hear of the depredations of the Danes, and the destruction by them of the monastery, and later of discords and dissensions between monks and canons; indeed, it is not until the reign of Canute that the Benedictines gained complete and final possession of the Abbey and its estates. The first church and monastery were probably of wood. Later, in the Saxon period, stone would have taken its place, but the form was no doubt primitive in the extreme. The founder's tomb would be the principal treasure, but, as time went on, other relics were acquired, and many shrines needed to contain the precious remains.
It was to King Canute that the monks owed the relics of Saint Wistan, which held the place of honour in the church in mediæval days. They were enclosed in a magnificent tomb erected behind the high altar, in the position occupied by the shrine of Edward the Confessor in the Abbey Church of Westminster. Soon afterwards we hear of the acquisition by purchase of the body of Saint Odulf from some travelling merchants, dealers in relics of sanctity, who, as will be seen, had no right to have the remains of the saint in their possession.
Saint Wistan was a scion of the royal house of Mercia, heir to the throne, and for a short period nominal monarch, but his nature was more fitted for a religious than a political life, and he took little part in the affairs of the state. In the year 849 he fell a victim to the treachery of his cousin Britfard, a rival claimant to the kingdom.
Saint Odulf was not an Englishman, his whole life having been spent at the monasteries of Utrecht and Stavoren in the Netherlands. Several miracles are recorded as having been worked by him both before and after death. To the monastery of Stavoren, which he had founded, his body belonged by right, but from here it was stolen and conveyed to England. By unknown means it came into the hands of certain vendors of holy wares, as related above, and from them it was purchased by Abbot Aelfward, for something like a hundred pounds, about the year 1034.
A curious story relating to the remains of this saint is told in the monastic chronicles. Edith, the queen of Edward the Confessor, being anxious to acquire some precious relic for purposes of her own, called upon a number of the religious houses of England to send their treasures to Gloucester, there to be inspected by her, and, among others, the convent of Evesham sent the remains of Saint Odulf and Saint Egwin. As the queen was examining the shrine of the former, she was suddenly struck with a peculiar form of blindness, and not until she had invoked the saint's intercession, and declared her intention of restoring the sacred relics to the monks, did she regain her sight!
Another interesting personality gained in a very different manner the reverence, if not the worship, of the religious devotees of the time. This was Saint Wulsy, a hermit of repute, who, we are told, lived for seventy-five years a life of contemplation and seclusion. From Crowland Abbey, his earlier home, Wulsy was led blindfolded, that he might not be contaminated by the world, to Evesham, and near the church he built with his own hands a chapel in honour of Saint Kenelm, saint and martyr, with a cell adjoining, in which he spent the rest of his life.
In the reign of Edward the Confessor the church was rebuilt and greatly enlarged by Abbot Mannie, noted as a skilful craftsman in gold and silver; but even this must have seemed to the ambitious Norman insignificant, and unworthy of its high purpose, for very soon after the Conquest it was pulled down to make way for a much larger and more dignified building.
THE ABBEY AFTER THE CONQUEST
William the Conqueror did not oust the prudent Abbot whom he found in office at Evesham. A favourite at the court of Edward the Confessor, Abbot Agelwy stood high also in Harold's regard, and was not only unmolested when William took up the reins of power, but was appointed to other offices of great trust and political importance. On his death the abbacy was given to a Norman monk, Walter of Cerasia, and in his time the great church of which some foundations still remain was begun. The "wily Agelwy" had left "four chests of silver" towards this reconstruction, but this was not enough to build even the crypt and chancel, and we find Abbot Walter sending the chief treasures of the monastery, namely, the shrines containing the relics of Saint Odulf and Saint Egwin, round the country in charge of certain monks for the collection of more funds.
According to the monkish historian Saint Odulf refused to allow himself to be used for this purpose, and after one experiment the attempt was given up. The story goes that the shrine was carried to Winchcomb and laid in the church there, with the intention of being brought out next day into the market-place for exhibition, and probably with the hope of some cures being effected. But when the bearers tried to remove it from the church they could not with all their strength raise it from the floor; so the sermon was preached outside, a collection made, and the shrine (which now could be lifted with perfect ease) brought home. The expedition with Saint Egwin was quite successful, and a considerable sum of money collected towards the building.
As time went on the Monastery waxed in wealth and importance, and succeeding abbots completed, furnished, and decorated the new church planned by Abbot Walter. It had the usual choir, nave, central tower, and transepts; and cloisters surrounded by monastic buildings. Those who know the larger Norman churches of England will be able to form a fairly correct impression of the church at this time; but it is impossible to imagine truly the effect of the painted walls, arches and columns, the rich monuments, shrines, and altars decorated with fine embroideries, goldsmith's work, and jewellery; all illuminated by windows of richly coloured glass.
From time to time Abbots with a taste or genius for building added to the structure. In the thirteenth century the central tower fell, and this was in part rebuilt and the choir repaired by Marleberge, an Abbot conspicuous by his ability, of whom we shall hear later. It was Marleberge who helped to complete a bell tower, which also fell to the ground not many years after, to be replaced by the beautiful campanile which still remains. Although the great church of the Monastery was the principal part of that institution, and on it was lavished all the wealth and skill available, yet it was but a small part of the whole group of buildings forming the "mitred Abbey" of Saint Mary and Saint Egwin. Round the cloister were ranged the principal chambers accommodating the abbot and the monks. Here were the chapter house in which meetings of various kinds were held, the refectory where meals were served and partaken of, the long dormitory where the monks slept, and the scriptorium in which the writing and illuminating was done. Round the outer courtyard, entered by the great gatehouse, which could be defended in case of need, were other buildings, barns, stables, and servants' quarters. Not far away was the hospital, and almost adjoining the principal gatehouse was the Almonry where the poorer guests were received and food served out to the needy. This building exists at the present time, and it will be observed that it is not enclosed within the boundary wall but is open on one side to the public green.
The Monastery owned much land, mostly in the neighbourhood, and before the dissolution the income through various channels has been calculated at about eighty thousand pounds of our present money. Dr. Jessop has described with wonderful realism the daily routine of the Benedictine monasteries, and the chronicles of Evesham have provided him with some of his most valuable information. In addition to the daily services which occupied much of their time, we find every member of the community busy with some work specially entrusted to him. In a well-regulated monastery idleness was impossible; the limited time permitted for leisure was usually occupied by recreation, gardening and bowls both being favourite pastimes. Of course writing and illumination were in constant demand, and Dr. Jessop has pointed out that in addition to the production of church service books, of music, and educational work in connection with the school, "a small army of writers" must have been needed in the "business department of the scriptorium." The Benedictine rule would appear to have been framed with the idea of giving full employment to every inmate of the monastery.
Considering the wealth of the institution, consisting for the most part in land, and the responsibilities consequently incurred, we are not surprised to read that before the dissolution the Abbey of Evesham contained eighty-nine monks and sixty-five servants. The property did not all lie in the near neighbourhood. In the fifteenth century the Abbey of Alcester came into the hands of the Monastery. At an earlier period the Priory of Penwortham in Lancashire was granted to this wealthy body, and in the time of William Rufus monks were sent to a religious house at Odensee in the island of Fuenen, in the Baltic sea, to instruct the members in the Evesham usage of the rule of Saint Benedict. This Priory became a little later a cell of the great Abbey.
Life in the Monastery of Evesham seems to have been sustained at a high standard throughout its long career. If all the "religious houses" had kept true to their vows and aims as that at Evesham did we should no doubt have a very different story to tell. One abbot alone appears to have been an exception to this general rule of good conduct. This was Roger Norreys, a "dissolute monk" of Canterbury, who was thrust upon the unwilling convent by Prince John when acting as regent in King Richard's absence. After many years, and with much difficulty, he was convicted "of seven or eight distinct offences" and deposed. After the public exposure of his vicious life, and his unjust and tyrannical rule, it is surprising that instead of being severely punished he was sent to the cell of Penwortham and allowed to hold office as Prior until his death. The story of the fight between the convent, headed by Thomas de Marleberge, a clever and well educated young monk who afterwards became abbot, and the wicked and shameless Norreys, is related at full length in the chronicles which have come down to us, written it would seem by Marleberge's own hand. The scandalous behaviour of the Abbot and the neglected state of his house was no secret, and the knowledge of it prompted the good bishop of Worcester in an attempt to exceed his rights by visiting the Abbey in order to inquire into the state of things existing there. In this act he defeated his own ends, for the Abbot and monks immediately united in common cause against so flagrant a breach of their privileges, claiming, what was finally acceded to them, exemption from all authority except that of Rome. The Abbot left the Monastery, and the monks barricaded every entrance, so that when the bishop arrived he was forced to encamp with his retinue upon the green outside the walls. By the indiscretion of the bishop a legal point was raised upon which the monks would by no means yield, preferring their present miserable condition rather than allowing the slightest infringement of what they believed to be their rights. The whole story, giving a curious insight into the state of the country at that time, is too long to relate here: an expensive and troublesome lawsuit followed, which was carried from court to court in England and Rome, and was finally settled some fifty years later in favour of the Monastery.
The last of the abbots and one of the most striking figures on the roll was Clement Lichfield. To him we owe much of the architectural beauty of both the parish churches; and besides erecting the bell tower he adorned the choir of the "great church," as it was called, with perpendicular decoration.
THE DISSOLUTION
Philip Hawford cannot be counted on the list of abbots. After having borne and yielded much, Lichfield resigned, and Hawford was appointed in his place, merely that he might surrender his charge in due form to the King, an act to which it was impossible for Abbot Lichfield to condescend, Hawford afterwards became Dean of Worcester, and there in the cathedral, in a recess behind the reredos, his effigy may still be seen, in full abbatial vestments, mitre and staff. Abbot Lichfield was allowed to retire to the manor house of Offenham, where he died in 1546, and was buried in the lovely chapel he had built in early life on to the church of All Saints beneath the shelter of his own Abbey.
The story of the Monastery has now come to an end. In 1536 the lesser priories and monasteries were suppressed, and we can well imagine the tremor which this daring act of Henry must have sent through the religious world. We can be sure the blow was unexpected by the monks themselves. Only a few years before this Clement Lichfield had devoted much labour and money to the decoration of the great church, and his last work was the building of the tower which stands to this day. We can never know whether the architectural additions which he made to the parish churches were suggested by the suspicion that they might survive that glorious edifice under whose shadow they reposed; but in his later years of retirement surely we may believe that he experienced a sorrowful gratification at the thought that some of his work would remain for the admiration of future ages, and that his mortal remains would lie in peace within the chapel which, in his youth, he had planned and adorned.
While Thomas Cromwell and his agents were engaged in their grim work of destruction we can fancy how Rumour first made herself busy; how the people talked of royal commissions and inquiries; tales would reach them of priories and convents which were seized, and of monks and nuns thrown upon the world. Messengers were seen to come and go, and the great gatehouse of the Abbey was eagerly watched by the curious and anxious townspeople. They talked from door to door, and in clusters in the market-place, and on Merstow Green, from which the precincts were entered. At last the blow fell! One by one the monks filed out of their historic home in solemn procession, their heads bent beneath a weight of misery they were hardly able to bear, though not yet capable of realising the full meaning of the calamity which had befallen them. It is true they were not sent into the world entirely without means of subsistence; some who were in holy orders had been appointed to livings by the Abbot and convent; to others pensions were allowed, but what would this avail in their time of sorrow!
Then the grand pile of Gothic buildings was resigned to the King's agents, and a great cloud hung over the little town. In a short time the gorgeous shrines and altars were plundered and desecrated; the buildings were sold; and before the eyes of the astonished inhabitants tower and pinnacle, church and chapter-house, gatehouse and cloister, fell a prey to the hand of the destroyer!