Sword and Gown.
The New Monastery fared badly after the battle of Hastings. The Abbot at this time was unfortunately an uncle of Harold. When he heard of the Norman invasion he persuaded twelve stalwart brethren to take the Saxon helmet, and, raising twenty additional men, marched to Hastings with his little company. They took the sword in place of the crucifix, and used it with such effect that they became conspicuous in the conflict. The Abbot fell close to Harold. Perhaps their costume attracted attention, they may have had gown and sword, but at any rate William’s attention was attracted to them, and he determined to take vengeance on an establishment whose members gave him so much trouble. He confiscated some fifteen manors belonging to them—about 17,000 acres of land, and he built his palace in such a position as greatly to inconvenience them, shutting up the communication by St. Lawrence’s into the High Street.
It now became clearly recognized that the New Monastery was too much confined, it was so close to St. Swithun’s that the ringing and singing were “like sweet bells jangled.” The monks resolved to move outside the city to Hyde Mead, though the ground in that locality was so springy that they had to bring a quantity of clay, and to cover it, in some places, four feet deep. The old site was given to St. Swithun’s, which in return gave some land and some additional days at St. Giles’ fair. In 1110 the fraternity moved in solemn procession, with all their worldly goods, consisting mainly of the cross of Cnut, body of Alfred, and some other old bones, into what promised to be a peaceful abode.
Treasures of Hyde.
But thirty years afterwards, on the occasion of the conflict between Stephen and Matilda, the establishment was destroyed, as I have already said, by Bishop de Blois sending fire balls at it out of Wolvesey. From the representations now made to the Pope we learn how magnificently adorned the church was, and how successful had been the miracles there wrought. The flames melted the gold and silver, and the bishop compelled the monks to give him the precious ashes, especially those of the great cross, given by Cnut, which contained sixty pounds of silver, and fifteen of gold, that king’s revenue for a year.
CNUT AND EMMA (ÆLFGYFU) PLACING THE CROSS AT HYDE.
(From an Anglo-Saxon MS.)
There were three diadems of gold and precious stones worth £118, two images adorned with gold and gems, worth £49. Of silver there were many other valuables, the seal of the house, two patens, a vase for holy water, and two lavers, nobly adorned with gold and gems, said to be of Solomonic work, perhaps in imitation of those in the Jewish temple, and worth £35. De Blois had endowed his hospital of St. Cross out of the spoil, and the whole amount of damages claimed was not less than £4,862, which might be multiplied by twenty to form a right estimate of it at present.
In consequence of the complaints sent to the Pope, the warlike bishop had to make some restitution. But it was not till twenty-six years afterwards (1167) that a goldsmith’s copy of the cross[61] was executed and presented to the Convent. The restoration of the buildings was gradual, and in 1312 part was still in ruins.
Hyde Abbey, though planned by St. Grimbald with such excellent intentions, was not free from the weakness inherent in all human institutions. There was from 1182 such a flow of miracles from the altar of St. Barnabas there that the monastery was sometimes spoken of as if dedicated to that saint. Crowds of poor, sick, and infirm people congregated there, and as the place declined in morality it grew in celebrity, so that in 1390 William of Wykeham authorized the abbot to use a mitre, ring and pastoral staff.