The Abbeys of Great Britain

by H. Claiborne Dixon

In fulfilment of the vow made before the battle of Winwidfield (655) by Oswy, King of Northumbria—that if victorious he would dedicate his daughter, Ethelfleda, to perpetual virginity, and would give twelve of his manor houses to be converted into monasteries—a religious house was founded at Streanaeshalch and placed under the charge of Hilda, Abbess of Hartlepool, to whom also was intrusted the child Ethelfleda. Under Hilda’s rule the famous Synod was held, to settle such vexed questions as the canonical date of Easter, and of the tonsure. Both the abbey and the town of Whitby were ruthlessly destroyed by the Danes in 787, and lay in ruins until 1067, when the restoration of the building was begun by a humble monk from Evesham, named Reinfrid. Formerly a soldier in the army of William the Conqueror, Reinfrid had been known as such by William de Percy, Lord of Whitby, who willingly granted to him and to his fraternity the site of the abbey. The history of the abbey in its early days tells of the usual vicissitudes, although early in the 12th century the community there prospered greatly under the government of Abbot William de Percy, nephew of the founder. Henry I. granted Whitby the same ecclesiastical privileges as those attached to the minsters of Ripon and Beverley. When in 1540 the last abbot, Henry Davell, surrendered to the king’s commissioners, there were eighteen monks in residence.

Turning from the historical to the legendary interest one finds a perfect wealth of story. “The Hermit of Eskdale,” “St Hilda’s Worms,” “Whitby Abbey Bells,” etc. These and other legends are still common talk among the fisher-folk of the town, to some of whom it is given, they tell us, to see at times the wraith of St Hilda at one of the highest windows of the ruins arrayed in a shroud, and to hear the abbey bells rung by invisible hands under the water, where they remain since they sank with the ship which was to take them to London after the dismantling of the abbey. The poetical and beautiful story of the divine vision and inspiration of Caedmon is one known to all lovers of English literature. Sir Walter Scott in the familiar stanzas of Marmion beginning, “Then Whitby’s nuns exulting told,” speaks of one of the many miracles by which St Hilda’s sanctity attested itself. Sea fowl in full flight are said to have paused and drooped when they reached the abbey, and to have fallen to the ground in attempting to fly over it; while the snakes, which invested the rocks, and spoken of in legend as St Hilda’s worms, were, in answer to the prayers of the holy abbess, turned to stones, supposed to be the ammonites so frequently found embedded in the cliffs.

[SELBY (Mitred Benedictine)]

1069, Founded and endowed by William the Conqueror “in honour of our Lord Jesus Christ and His Blessed Mother the Virgin Mary and St Germain, the Bishop”—Guido de Raincourt gives the town of Stamford, Northants, to the new monastery at Selby—Other benefactors include Thomas, Archbishop of York; Gilbert Tison, chief standard-bearer of England; and Henry de Lacy, Earl of Lincoln—1189, Richard I. confirms all previous grants—1328, Edward III. ratifies the various liberties and exemptions—1540, Dissolved. Annual revenue, £729, 12s. 10d.—1618, The church made parochial—1690, The tower falls and destroys the south transept and the roof of the south-west aisle—1702, The tower rebuilt—1889-91, The choir restored—1902, The tower rebuilt under the superintendence of the Rev. A. G. Tweedie, Vicar of Selby—1906, Partially destroyed by fire.

The destruction of Selby Abbey by fire in October 1906 is a loss to the nation as well as to the county of York. The late Sir Gilbert Scott, speaking of the abbey, said the building was “of a kind which is more the property of the nation than of a single parish, and one which is of the highest value to the study of ecclesiastical architecture and to the history of art in this country.” It was the most perfectly preserved specimen of a monastic church in England, and attracted archæologists from all parts of the world. The church possessed numerous tombs and monuments of exceptional historic interest and in it could be seen every variety of Gothic church architecture. The collapse of the central tower in 1690, destroying the south transept in its fall, was the first of a series of accidents that culminated in the recent terrible fire. This conflagration, which caused such deplorable injury, broke out in the Latham chapel, in which the new organ had been erected. Though most damage was done in the vicinity of the instrument—not a vestige of which remained—the fire left its mark on every part of the building, having spread from the Latham chapel to the north transept and choir, and from thence to the nave and tower. The choir, built in the 14th century, and one of the noblest examples of Decorated work, suffered much injury, but fortunately the east window—one of the finest specimens in England of a Jesse and Doom window—escaped destruction. The firemen were told to concentrate their efforts on this lovely feature of the building, with the result that the tracery and mullions survived in a more or less perfect condition. The window, happily, had been fully insured after the restoration carried out during the vicariate of the Rev. A. G. Tweedie, who collected £8000 for the purpose, and who also rebuilt other portions of the building. The aisles of the choir were left practically intact, but the north transept lost its roof, seats, and the greater portion of its handsome window. The nave, the last part to be attacked by the relentless flames, retained its pillars and beautiful arches and in many ways has suffered less severely than the rest of the building, though the roof fell and by its fall destroyed the oak benches. The central tower (which ever since its first foundation has been a cause of anxiety on account of its insecurity) lost its roof and floors. It is a matter for congratulation that the west front only suffered comparatively little damage, for its towers were but partially burnt and the glass in the window cracked. The renovation of this ancient Benedictine church, founded by William the Conqueror, was put into the hands of Messrs J. Oldrid Scott & Son, architects, of London, who estimated that £50,000 was necessary for complete restoration. It is indeed to be hoped that this national monument, which until last year was the only monastic building in use as a parish church from Trent to Tweed, may be completely restored, and that the inhabitants of Selby may once more worship in their glorious old abbey church. The nave has already been re-roofed, and was opened on the 19th of October 1907. Of the history of the abbey very little is known, but no account of it would be complete without some reference to its connection with St Germanus. The following interesting extract is taken from Baring Gould’s Lives of the Saints:—

“About the middle of the 11th century, there was a monk of Auxerre, who had a special devotion for St Germanus, and an overwhelming desire to possess for himself a relic of this patron. One night he stole away to the sacred body, and bit off or cut off the middle finger of the right hand. No sooner had he done this, than he was seized with a horror and trembling, and began to smite his breast, with tears and lamentations, beseeching St Germanus to have mercy on him. Then, compelled by a certain necessity, he placed the finger on the altar. The horror-stricken brethren after this secured the body by walls and iron doors, and prepared an ivory case for the finger, in which it was kept over the altar instead of the body, which appears to have been there before.”

“About that time there was a brother named Benedict, to whom St Germanus appeared three times in the visions of the night, and said to him, ‘Go from thy land and from thy kindred, and from this thy father’s house, and come into a land which I shall show thee. There is a place in England, and it is called Selby, provided for my honour, predestined for the rendering of my praise, to be famous for the titles and glory of my name, situated on the bank of the river Ouse, not far distant from the city of York. There I have provided and chosen a founder for my name, and thou shalt found for thyself a cell upon the royal land, which pertains to the right of the king. And fear not to undertake alone so great and such a peregrination; for, believe me, thou shalt be comforted by my companionship, strengthened by my counsel, defended by my protection. My finger which is over the altar, thou shalt carry with thee in memory of me, and that thou mayest be able to do this securely and without fear of losing it, thou shalt with a knife make an opening in thy arm between the elbow and the shoulder, and therein place the finger. Nor do thou tremble to do this, for thou shalt neither shed blood nor suffer pain.’ Benedict disregarded the vision the first and second time, but the third time the saint reproved him so severely for his negligence, that he set off at once, commending himself to God and St Germanus, and carrying off the finger without saying a word to anyone. Great was the consternation, loud the lamentations, long and diligent the search, when it was found the finger had disappeared. Then it occurred to them to pursue Benedict, and at last they overtook him and questioned him. He altogether denied having been guilty of any sacrilege; but nevertheless they searched his clothes. And not being able to find the relic, they returned in confusion to Auxerre, while he made a prosperous journey to England with his precious treasure. But the result of his inquiries on the road was his finding himself at Salisbury instead of Selby. Here he was most honourably entertained by a citizen named Edward, who loaded him with many precious gifts, the chief of which was a gold reliquary of wonderful workmanship, in which the finger was to be kept, and where it was kept at Selby when the account was written. When, however, he began to ask where York was, and which was the river Ouse, he discovered that he had not yet reached the place of which he had been told in the vision. And being sorely troubled thereat, he was comforted by another vision of St Germanus appearing to him with a smiling countenance, and saying, ‘I said not unto thee Salisbury, but that thou shouldest ask for Selby.’ And then, says the chronicler, ‘whether in the body or whether out of the body I cannot tell; God knoweth,’ Benedict was transported to Selby, where the Saint said to him, ‘Here shall be my rest for ever, here will I dwell, for I have a delight therein.’ However, in the morning Benedict was still at Salisbury. A few days after, he was shown the way to Lymington by a priest named Theobald, and there he found a ship bound for York, in which he sailed. They had a prosperous voyage, and no sooner did they approach Selby than Benedict at once recognised it as the place he had seen in the vision. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘is the place which the Lord hath chosen; here let me land.’ And no sooner had he set his foot on the bank, than he set up the Cross under a great oak, called by the natives Strihac, about A.D. 1069, the fourth year of William the Conqueror, Here the chronicler expatiates on the beauties of the situation, the sweetness of the waters, the abundance of fish, the commodity of water transport. The very best of stone can easily be brought for building, and everything that goes to York from foreign parts, or from any port in England, has to go by Selby. And first Benedict built a little cell, where he offered continually praises to the most sacred finger, which had since his arrival made a dumb man speak. One day, a nobleman, named Hugh, passing that way, asked him what the cross meant. This led to a firm friendship between them, and they built an oratory in honour of St Germanus. Then Hugh took Benedict and introduced him to King William, who received him most kindly, and gave him one carucate of land at Selby, the wood Flaxey, the ville Rawcliffe, half a carucate in Braydon, and the fishery of Whitgift. Benedict now returned, set up workshops about his chapel, and many left their worldly employments to help in the construction of greater buildings. At this time there was in the neighbouring woods a gang of robbers, led by one Sevam, the son of Sigge. Sevam tried to break into Benedict’s cell at night; but his hand stuck to the wall, and there he remained trembling till morning, when he was only set at liberty on making a vow that he would never offend the blessed Germanus again. A nobleman’s son was cured of epilepsy by a touch of the holy finger. In the ninth year of Henry I. there was a great flood in the river Ouse, after a sudden thaw. It came on so rapidly that when the bell rang for matins there was nothing of it to be seen; but before the office was over, the cloisters were flooded. The chapel being nearer the river was in great danger of being washed away, for water continued to rise for fifteen days. But within the chapel it never prevailed further than the altar step, though it had been two cubits higher outside than in. In the time of the Abbot Helias (circ. 1150), one who sacrilegiously tried to break into the church, died of a torturing sickness in three days. A similar chastisement overtook a soldier named Foliot, who stole a horse from the churchyard. Another soldier who kidnapped a captive from the church, was afflicted with contracted limbs, and in fact no one who presumed in any way to offend St Germanus escaped his scourge. In an attack upon the ‘castle’ it was set fire to, and the chapel of the saint only saved with the greatest difficulty. All captives who had faith in St Germanus soon escaped by his help. A furrier of Pontefract found his fetters drop off, so also a little boy detained as a hostage, and a cleric in bonds for his father, and others. In the time of the Abbot Germanus (circ. 1160), one Martin, who was nearly tortured to death, was made quite well in three days. A pack-horse crossing the bridge with some of the brethren who were going out on a preaching tour, slipped into the river, and when with great labour they had pulled him out, the vestments, relics, etc., in the chests on his back were found to have been miraculously preserved from wetting. Another time they were carrying the feretory on a waggon, which ran over a child of two years old and killed it on the spot. The Lord Prior exclaimed, ‘Holy Germanus, what hast thou done? We preach that thou dost raise the dead; but now, on the contrary thou killest the living.’ They fell to prayers, the child was placed on the ground under the feretory, and was very soon as well as if nothing had happened. While on this journey they passed the night in a certain church where a recluse dwelt in a cell in the wall. To her the saint appeared in her sleep, and described his home at Selby, especially the churchyard planted with nut-trees, all which she was able to relate in the morning to one of the Selby brethren named Ralph, and by this token to prove a commission she had from St Germanus to rebuke him for dissoluteness and levity. To a hostess who entertained them, the saint appeared and rebuked her for not treating his servants with sufficient consideration. And a certain canon who had nearly died of a quartan ague was cured by drinking water in which the relics had been washed.”

[MEAUX (Cistercian)]

1136, Founded by William de Gross, Earl of Albemarle and Lord of Holderness—1150, Colonised by monks from Fountains under Abbot Adam and dedicated to St Mary—1317, Richard de Otringham gives land and money to the monastery—1349, The community visited by plague and earthquake, and its numbers greatly reduced—1360, Many valuable tracts of land belonging to the monastery are lost through the inundations of the Humber and encroachments of the sea—15—, Dissolved. Annual revenue, £299, 6s. 4d.

Meaux, three miles north of Beverley, in the East Riding of Yorkshire, was called after a town of the same name in Normandy by those Normans, who, coming over with the all-victorious Conqueror, settled in this part of the country. William de Gross, founder of the abbey, was practically the lord of all Yorkshire. Having been prevented, owing to his many years, from fulfilling a vow made in his youth to journey to Jerusalem, he built and endowed this abbey of which only a fragment of a wall remains, although traces of the foundation of the church are discernible. Some interesting relics have been discovered on the site, including tomb slabs and tessellated pavements which are now preserved in an adjacent house.