"For one new chariot with six horses in the same, over and above one [chariot] provided by the lord Abbot, and with a complete set of harness for the said chariot and for the horses pertaining thereto—the whole being bought and given to our lord the King on the occasion of his expedition to France, together with the wages of a valet, a groom, and a page for the said chariot, and cloth bought for their livery, besides the maintenance of the men and the horses aforesaid for three weeks, pending the King's departure for France this year. xxxiii. li. xii. d."

If we may take it that the Abbot's expenditure on his chariot was of the same extent, we have a total outlay of £66, or about £1000 of our money.

Colchester's generally good health began to fail in 1416, and his apothecary was called in to apply various remedies at a fee of 16s. 8d.[ 102] At home he could still find interest in watching the progress of the New Work, for the north aisle of the nave was being proceeded with and the pillars of the triforium above it were being put in their place.[ 103] If Henry's gifts for the purpose failed to reach Henry's expectations and the Convent's, that is only another way of saying that Colchester's aged thoughts were often occupied with the expedition to France and the scenes that he knew so familiarly. He may have taken part in the rejoicings over the victory of Agincourt; he certainly received a special message about the capture of Rouen in 1418.[ 104]

He died in 1420 at a good old age, probably fourscore and two, and in the 34th year of his Abbacy. The exact day is not recorded. We know that there was much mortality in the Convent during 1419-20. When the Wardens of Queen Alianore's Manors made up their accounts to Michaelmas (they did so generally about November), they wrote at the end a sorrowful list of twelve names with a note that "all these died this year together with the lord Abbot and Brother Thomas Peuerel." Thus in strictness we might put his death before September 29. But the rolls were by no means precise in the matter, and often included those who died at any time before the day on which the accounts were balanced. Moreover, we have the royal licence to the Convent to elect a successor,[ 105] which is dated November 12, 1420. We may therefore suppose that Colchester died late in October or early in November. He was buried in the Chapel of St. John Baptist, where his much battered free-stone image lies on an altar-tomb. His initials still remain, but the heraldry has long since perished, and his mitre and gloves have lost the jewels that once adorned them. It adds insult to this injury that his countenance should be described as "stern and ill-favoured."[ 106]

But the character behind the countenance is not difficult to sum up. In his own day he was reckoned to be a man of shrewd judgment and wide experience; we have noted the far-travelled uses that were made of him by the Convent and by the Crown, and we can conclude that his judgment increased in shrewdness as his experience extended in width. Indeed, he retained this quality to the last. We have seen that there is still extant an account of his official disbursements in behalf of the General Chapter of the Benedictines at Northampton for the last year of his life, 1420.[ 107] It includes payments made, for special services rendered, to two Westminster monks, who had been bidden to attend the conference. They were Richard Harwden and Edmund Kirton, and each was appointed Abbot of Westminster in his turn. It is not every man of eighty-two who is shrewd enough to pick out his successors for the next forty years, and at the same time large-hearted enough to give them every encouragement to fit themselves for the office which he holds. Indeed, his was the kind of character to which justice can only be done after a lapse of time. It is necessary to look back at the men who, noting his shrewdness, came to a conviction that he was also just and trustworthy—Richard II., who opposed his election as Abbot, but lived to prove his friendship; Henry IV., who knew his friendship for Richard, and at first treated him accordingly, but afterwards found no reason to regret the clemency shown to him; Henry V., who appreciated his devotion to Richard, and did not honour him the less because of Henry IV.'s early suspicions; and the Cardinals and others who met him in the tortuous paths by which ecclesiastical diplomacy was trying to make its way towards the peace of the distracted Church. We may leave on William Colchester's memorial an inscription taken from a letter addressed to him by Thomas Merke, Bishop of Carlisle, who was conveying to the Abbot a request that he would use his influence at the Roman Court on behalf of Merton Hall, Oxford. We shall admit that Merke was his intimate friend, and shall remember that Colchester showed his own affection for Merke by arranging that the Bishop should be commemorated at Hurley Priory along with the Abbot's parents.[ 108] Merke's witness, however, may still be true. "Men like," he wrote, "to know your Paternity's views on these matters, for they observe your solidity, which is a rare virtue in these days, and they give you their confidence all the more."[ 109] No other Abbot ruled our House as long as he; nor could any man of his line desire a more satisfying verdict on his character.

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INDEX