York

by George Benson

to works of charity. The value of their work being greatly hindered for want of funds, Athelstan granted to God, St. Peter, and the Culdees, a piece of crown land on which they might erect a hospital, and for its endowment he granted a thrave of corn from every plough going in the province of York. The land given to the hospital is that on which the Theatre Royal now stands. The hospital belonged to the Minster, and was rebuilt by the first Norman Archbishop, who induced the Conqueror to confirm the gift of thraves of corn, and also to add more land. The cloister or undercroft of the hospital was divided into aisles by short columns and covered with groined vaulting. King Stephen built a church for the hospital on that part of their close adjoining the king’s street. The church was dedicated to St. Leonard, and he also changed the name of the hospital from St. Peter’s to St. Leonard’s. From this time, under royal patronage, the hospital became independent of the Minster. On the banks of the river was a staith appropriated to the hospital.

New buildings arose. All that remains of these are a long vaulted gateway having on the north cloisters of the same length, now three aisles but formerly five, two of which are provided with a large fireplace, which has the back formed of thin tiles arranged herring-bonewise. Above were the wards of the infirmary, opening at the east end to the chapel, under which is a vaulted chamber.

The occupants in 1280 numbered nearly 400. In the infirmary were 229 men and women with 2 washerwomen and 7 servants, in the orphanage 23 boys with a woman caretaker. There were 8 chaplains, 11 lay brethren, 3 secular chaplains, and a sub-deacon, 17 sisters, 19 choir boys, and a master of the song school, a schoolmaster, and 67 servants. There was a large distribution of alms at the gate of this king’s almshouse of St. Leonard, and a dinner was given every Sunday for each prisoner in the castle.

The hospital was independent of the Archbishop, and only subject to the king or his deputies. The great Walter Langton, when master in 1294, ordered each chaplain a seat and desk in the cloister. In 1344 there were, amongst others, in the hospital a clerk of the church, a cooper, 3 bakers, 2 brewers, 2 smiths, 3 carters, a miller, a swineherd, 12 boatmen, a ferrywoman, 2 valets, a groom, a cellarer, a clerk of the exchequer, an auditor, and a seneschal. There was plenty of work for all in such a large establishment. There were the master, brethren, and sisters to wait on, the sick and needy to attend to, the destitute to relieve at the gates, whilst a few in their own homes had a corrody in the shape of food or money. The inmates were well provided for; the king’s almsmen received the same fare as the chaplains, namely, a loaf of white bread and a gallon of ale of the better quality, flesh and fish for dinner and supper, also a loaf and a gallon of ale of the second quality. During the year, 565 stones of cheese and 60 stones of butter were consumed. In the year 1469 there were in the hospital the master, 13 brethren, 4 secular priests, 8 sisters, 30 choristers, 2 schoolmasters, 6 servitors, and 206 beadmen. Seventy years later this useful hospital was dissolved, Dr. Thomas Magnus, Archdeacon and a member of the Privy Council being then master. He became parson of Sessay Church where he died eleven years later. He is commemorated by a fine brass engraved with his effigy.

A story tells how once a miracle was wrought in St. Leonard’s Hospital. The hero of the tale, so far from being a saint was very much a sinner. After a not too reputable secular career, he was persuaded to become a religious. The change in his life was more apparent than real, for, it seems, when fair-time came round, he made up his mind to join, as on many a previous occasion, in the festivities of the season. Taking advantage of the after-dinner sleepiness of the porter, and seizing the latter worthy’s keys, Brother Jucundus, for that is the hero’s name, made his exit, contemptuous of discipline.

Whether it was the unusually severe life he had lately been leading, is not known, but it appears that by the evening the brother’s ideas were, as a result of his unwisely frequent potations, in quite a nebulous state.

Meanwhile, attention having been directed to the absence of Jucundus from the monastery, two brothers were deputed with orders to discover his whereabouts and to rescue him. Eventually they conveyed their erring comrade home in a wheelbarrow.

Such a breach of discipline was a most serious offence; indeed, Jucundus was sentenced to be walled up alive. This unpleasant process was actually carried out, and our friend thought that he had looked his last upon the sun.

Mured up thus unkindly, he was soon sobered, and beginning to kick against the walls, was surprised that the stones gave way under the pressure he applied to them. He soon had worked a big enough hole (not, of course, in the wall which Justice had just built in order to immure him) to allow his passage.