LLANTHONY ABBEY,
Monmouthshire.
“’Mongst Hatteril’s lofty hills, that with the clouds are crowned,
The valley Ewias lies immured so steep and round,
As they believe that see the mountains rise so high,
Might think the straggling herds were grazing in the sky;
Which in it such a shape of solitude doth bear,
As Nature at the first appointed it for prayer;
Where in an aged cell, with moss and ivy grown,
In which not to this day the sun hath ever shone;
That reverend British Saint, in zealous ages past,
In contemplation lived, and did so truly fast,
As he did only drink what crystal Hodney yields,
And fed upon the leeks he gathered in the fields.
In memory of whom, in the revolving year,
The Welshmen on his day that sacred herb do wear!”—Drayton.
In the reign of William Rufus—as attested by the Abbey records—the hallowed retreat was thus discovered. Hugh de Laci, a great Norman baron, having on a hunting excursion followed the deer into this secluded valley, sat down at the conclusion of the chase to refresh himself and his attendants. The wildness and beauty of the scenery around them appeared to have affected their minds with unwonted impressions; and the accidental visit was thus prolonged for the sake of the rude but romantic valley which the morning’s adventure had so unexpectedly thrown open.
The Nave.
Llanthony Abbey.
William, one of the Baron’s retainers, feeling oppressed by the heat of the weather, and fatigued by the roughness of the mountain tract through which they had passed, gladly threw himself down on the soft grass to seek a few minutes’ repose. But the novelty and grandeur of the scene awakening his curiosity, he was tempted to make a hasty survey of the spot; and turning towards the river, that here and there filled the solitude with its murmurs, he caught a glimpse of the little chapel with which St. David had hallowed the scene. Suddenly inspired with religious enthusiasm, he felt an irresistible inclination to linger near the spot; and at last, dismissing his attendants, he took up his new abode in the desert; and, like his devout predecessor, consecrated his life to the service of God, or rather to the contemplation of divine things. He laid aside his belt—says the recording monk of Llanthony—and girded himself with a rope. Instead of fine linen, he made unto himself a vestment of haircloth; and instead of a soldier’s cloak, he loaded himself with heavy iron. The suit of armour which, in his warrior life, had defended him from the weapons of the enemy, he now wore as a garment highly suitable for hardening him against the temptations of his old enemy, Satan. So that the outer man being thus mortified by austerity, the inner man might become day by day better disposed and purified for the service of God. And in order that his zeal might not cool, adds the pious historian, he thus sacrificed himself, and continued to wear his hard armour, until the iron and steel were absolutely worn out with rust and age.