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THE CHRONICLE OF JOCELIN OF BRAKELOND: A PICTURE OF MONASTIC LIFE IN THE DAYS OF ABBOT SAMSON. NEWLY EDITED BY SIR ERNEST CLARKE M.A. F.S.A.
THE CHRONICLE OF JOCELIN OF BRAKELOND: A PICTURE OF MONASTIC LIFE IN THE DAYS OF ABBOT SAMSON NEWLY EDITED BY SIR ERNEST CLARKE
ALEXANDER MORING THE DE LA MORE PRESS 298 REGENT STREET LONDON W 1903
"A veritable monk of Bury St. Edmund's: worth listening to, if by chance made visible and audible. Here he is; and in his hand a magical speculum, much gone to rust, indeed, yet in fragments still clear; wherein the marvellous image of his existence does still shadow itself, though fitfully, and as with an intermittent light."
Carlyle: Past and Present. Chapter 1.
LIST OF CONTENTS
SEAL OF ABBOT SAMSON. Frontispiece
EDITOR'S PREFACE.
page
Samson and his arch-eulogist—The Chronicle—Previous Editions of the Chronicle—The Chronicler—The Central Figure of the Chronicle—Samson in Subordinate Offices—Samson as Abbot—Relations with Church and State—Samson as an Author—Samson's Masterfulness—Samson as an Administrator—Epilogue [xv].-xliii.
CHAPTER I.
BURY ABBEY UNDER ABBOT HUGH.
The last years of Abbot Hugh—The monastery under a load of debt, and in the hands of Jew money-lenders—Inquiry by the Royal almoner—Caustic comment by Samson, master of the novices—Exemption obtained by Hugh from visitation by the Legate—Jocelin's reflection thereon—The Convent debt—Entertainment of strangers—Samson in various offices, but disliked by the Abbot—Accident to Hugh at Canterbury—His death—His house despoiled by his servants [1]-11
CHAPTER II.
THE MONKS DISCUSS THE VACANCY.
Wardens of the Abbey appointed by the King—Culpable Weakness of the Prior—William the sacrist—Activity of Samson as subsacrist—Jealousy of him—The Wardens stop further building operations—Much discussion by the monks as to the qualifications needed in the new Abbot—Samson silently notes all that is said—Jocelin's indiscretion in blurting out his private opinion [12]-23
CHAPTER III.
THE CHOICE OF A NEW ABBOT.
Henry II. orders the Prior and twelve delegates from the Abbey to attend him to make choice of a new Abbot—Selection of the twelve—Six electors appointed to choose three names to be given under seal to the delegates—The journey to the Court—Gossip and telling of dreams amongst the monks left behind—The delegates before the King at Bishop's Waltham—The sealed paper opened—Samson eventually selected—Approval of the King, and his comment on Samson's demeanour [24]-35
CHAPTER IV.
SAMSON'S INSTALLATION.
Reception of the news at the Monastery—Samson blessed by the Bishop of Winchester—He journeys to Bury, and is welcomed by the Convent on Palm Sunday—His address in the chapter-house—Answer of Wimer the Sheriff—Jocelin made Abbot's Chaplain—New Seal struck with mitre graven thereon—Samson sets his household in order—General Court summoned—Demand of aid from his knights [36]-42
CHAPTER V.
THE NEW ABBOT'S REFORMS.
Prepares an estate book—Buildings and repairs—Enclosure of parks—Hunting and dogs—Land improvements—Management of manors—General survey—Makes a kalendar—New regulations made in Chapter—Amount of the convent debts and their discharge—Dismissal of William the sacrist—Samson visits all the Abbey manors—His anxieties about the debts—His skill and energy in managing the estates—Appointed judge in ecclesiastical courts—Jocelin's excuse for Samson's fondness for betaking himself to his manors—The Abbot's complaint at the burden of his charge—His dream as a child—His control of temper—Order for production of convent seals—Thirty-three given up, all retained by the Abbot, except the prior's—Entertainment of guests [43]-59
CHAPTER VI.
SAMSON'S PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS.
His personal appearance—His temperance and diligence—Abhors liars, drunkards and talkative folk—His eloquence—Preaches to the people in the Norfolk dialect—Management of his household—Strict regulation of expenses—Appoints none but fit persons to office—His treatment of his relatives—Gratitude for past kindnesses—Provides free lodgings for poor scholars—Expulsion of Jews from Bury—Purchase of the Manor of Mildenhall—Giving up of King Henry II.'s cup and its restoration—Samson's generosity—The Woolpit living—Samson recounts his visit to Rome in his early days, and his adventures [60]-75
CHAPTER VII.
THE ABBOT AS PEER OF PARLIAMENT.
Dispute with Archbishop of Canterbury as to jurisdiction over manor of Eleigh—Quarrel with the Bishop of Ely, the Chancellor—Samson wishes to take the cross: the King refuses permission—Goes to siege of Windsor in martial array—Visits Richard I. in Germany—Excommunication by him of a company of roystering young knights—Embassies to Rome—The claim of the Earl of Clare to carry the Standard of St. Edmund in battle—Adam of Cockfield's inheritance—Herbert the dean and his windmill—Jocelin's New Year's gift—The Abbot's struggle with his rebellious knights [76]-100
CHAPTER VIII.
THE CASE OF HENRY OF ESSEX.
Excesses of Henry of Essex—His cowardice in Wales—The wager of battle on the island near Reading—Henry's vision—His recovery and repentance [101]-105
CHAPTER IX.
TROUBLES WITHOUT.
The Bishop of Ely outwitted as to timber asked for by him—Dispute as to town bailiffs—Murmurings of the monks—Toll-right dispute with London merchants—Dues of the burgesses—Samson grants a charter to the town [106]-117
CHAPTER X.
TROUBLES WITHIN.
Inefficient cellarers—New arrangements criticised—The Archbishop of Canterbury claims authority to visit the Abbey as legate—Samson's successful appeal to the Pope [118]-127
CHAPTER XI.
SAMSON'S CONTESTS WITH KNIGHTS, MONKS AND TOWNSMEN.
King Richard's levies—The abbot's difficulties in making his knights comply—Goes to Normandy and arranges matters with the King—Samson's generosity to the abbey—He takes the cellarer's department into his own hands—Consequent discontent—Hamo Blund's will, and Samson's comments thereon—Riots in the churchyard—Rioters reduced to submission [128]-141
CHAPTER XII.
THE CARES OF OFFICE.
Restoration of the Coventry monks—Samson's hospitality at Oxford—His endowment of the Bury schools—Abbey improvements—The Abbot withstands King Richard over the wardship of Nesta of Cockfield—The King appeased by a present of horses and dogs [142]-149
CHAPTER XIII.
THE CUSTOMS OF THE TOWNSHIP.
Old oppressive customs changed or abrogated by Samson—The Cellarer's difficulties in collecting rep silver—The hard case of Ketel—The Cellarer's dues—Lakenheath eels—Samson's reforms and his critics [150]-161
CHAPTER XIV.
THE SHRINE OF ST. EDMUND.
Fire around the shrine—The shrine unhurt—Vain attempts to hush up the scandal—Samson dreams of St. Edmund despoiled—The saint's body uncovered—Samson and certain of the monks view the sacred relic [162]-177
CHAPTER XV.
THE MONASTERY IN REVOLT.
Death of King Richard—King John visits the Abbey—Samson supports Ralph the porter against the monks—He withdraws from the convent—Disturbances in his absence—The monks submit—Reconciliation—Marshalling of the Knights—Further troubles about the manors and cellary [178]-189
CHAPTER XVI.
ELECTION OF A NEW PRIOR.
Death of Robert the Prior—Herbert the chaplain and Hermer the sub-prior candidates for the post—Through the Abbot's influence Herbert is elected—Jocelin moralizes—The gibes of the unlearned [190]-199
CHAPTER XVII.
THE ABBOT'S FOIBLES.
Samson's faults—The dam at Babwell—Trouble with the Ely monks—The Abbot summoned over sea to the King—Sets his house in order—His unfulfilled promises—The story breaks off [200]-211
APPENDICES
- Samson as an Author [215]-221
- Notes to Text of Chronicle [222]-256
- Table of Chief Dates in the History of the Abbey of St. Edmundsbury, a.d. 870 to 1903 [257]-278
GENERAL INDEX [279]-285
PREFACE
Samson and his Arch-Eulogist.—Abbot Samson of St. Edmundsbury and his biographer, Jocelin of Brakelond, undoubtedly owe such immortality as they possess to their introduction to the world at large by Thomas Carlyle. Learned historians and commentators of the past had made use of the dry facts of the Chronicle for their disquisitions and treatises; but none had recognized the human interest of Jocelin's narrative until the Sage of Chelsea seized upon it as evidence of that theory of Hero Worship on which he loved to insist.
The whole of the seventeen chapters of Book II. of "Past and Present," published in 1843, are devoted to a study of Abbot Samson, and the lessons which Carlyle thought "our own poor century" could learn from him.
From that day to this, Samson has been more or less a household word; and, as John Richard Green says in his "Stray Studies" (1876), "In the wandering gossipy pages of Jocelin of Brakelond the life of the twelfth century, so far as it could penetrate abbey walls, still glows distinct for us round the figure of the shrewd, practical, kindly, imperious abbot who looks out, a little travestied perhaps, from the pages of Mr. Carlyle."
The Chronicle.—Mr. Green further says:—"By a rare accident the figure of the silent, industrious Norfolk monk, who at the close of Henry the Second's reign suddenly found himself ruler of the wealthiest, if not the greatest, of English abbeys, starts out distinct from the dim canvas of the annals of his house. Annals indeed in any strict sense St. Edmund's has none; no national chronicle was ever penned in its scriptorium such as that which flings lustre round its rival, St. Albans; nor is even a record of its purely monastic life preserved such as that which gives a local and ecclesiastical interest to its rival of Glastonbury. One book alone the abbey has given us, but that one book is worth a thousand chronicles."
The original manuscript of the Chronicle occupies 43 folios (121-163) of a thick quarto volume on vellum once in the library of Bury Abbey, afterwards in the hands of the family of Bacon of Redgrave, then belonging to Bishop Stillingfleet of Worcester, and now preserved in the British Museum amongst the Harleian Manuscripts. The contents of this Liber Albus (Harl. MS. 1005) are very varied; and a complete list of the 144 items in it which relate to the Abbey will be found on pp. 122-4 of the 1821 Edition of the Monasticon. (Another copy of the Chronicle was in the Cottonian MS. Vitellius dxv., burnt in the fire of 1731.) Three facsimiles of portions of the MS. are given in the Camden Society's Edition of the Latin text (to be presently referred to), and the writing is there ascribed to the end of the 13th or beginning of the 14th century.
Previous Editions of the Chronicle.—In the year 1840, John Gage Rokewode, F.R.S. (1786-1842), Director of the Society of Antiquaries, brought out for the Camden Society a thin quarto book in the familiar green cover, which he entitled "Chronica Jocelini de Brakelonda de rebus gestis Samsonis Abbatis Monasterii Sancti Edmundi." It was this book that attracted the attention of Carlyle, with the results already stated. Rokewode was a scion of the distinguished family of Gage of Hengrave, near Bury, and took the additional name of Rokewode on inheriting in 1838 the estates of the Rookwood family. He was a very learned genealogist, and the author of a History of Hengrave and of the Hundred of Thingoe. His observations on Suffolk families and topography are therefore to be relied upon, though subsequent investigation has corrected some of his notes on historical matters.
Rokewode's text was in the original Latin; but to meet the popular demand for the Chronicle caused by Carlyle's published appreciation of it in "Past and Present" (1843), a translation into English was made by Thomas Edlyne Tomlins (1804-1872), and was published in 1844 by Whitaker & Co. in the "Popular Library of Modern Authors," under the title of "Monastic and Social Life in the Twelfth Century."
Mr. T. E. Tomlins was a nephew of the better known Sir Thomas Edlyne Tomlins (1762-1841), assistant counsel to the Treasury, who wrote "The Law of Wills" and other well-known text-books. The younger Thomas was an attorney, and also wrote on legal subjects. Tomlins' translation of Jocelin was issued in the somewhat forbidding form of a tall paper-covered book of 64 pages of double columns of small type, without any break from start to finish: the few notes at the end being mostly on legal points, and none of them of great merit.
It does not appear that Mr. Tomlins had any special knowledge of his subject; and, as a consequence, his translation contained a quantity of errors, both of omission and commission. His book has been used as the ground-work for the present edition, but the alterations made in the text have been so numerous and important as to be practically equivalent to a new translation altogether. The three Appendices (pages 215-278) are wholly new.
The task of rendering the Latin text into satisfactory and accurate English has been made easier by the publication in 1890-6 of Mr. Thomas Arnold's three volumes of "Memorials of St. Edmund's Abbey" (No. 96 of the Rolls Series). "Tom" Arnold (1823-1900) was the second son of Arnold of Rugby and the younger brother of Matthew Arnold; and he undertook a quantity of work for the Rolls Series, not all of which he was able to carry through with the completeness that he desired. Especially with regard to the Annals of St. Edmundsbury there was a quantity of material that he could not deal with in the leisure at his command. But so far as concerns the Chronicle of Jocelin (which occupies 228 pages of his Volume I.), his edition of the original Latin text was carefully revised and annotated.
The Chronicler.—Of Jocelin of Brakelond very little is certainly known beyond what he himself tells us in the Chronicle. There are two streets in Bury St. Edmunds known as the Long and Short Brackland or Braklond, and probably Jocelin took his name from his place of birth. In the text of the Chronicle, however, and in other 13th century documents in which his name is recorded, he appears simply as Jocelin. He tells us he took the habit in 1173, "the year when the Flemings were taken captive without the town" (page 1); and that he then came under the care of Samson, at that time master of the novices, who told him some of his own experiences by way of warning against interference with the constituted authorities (6).
At the time of Samson's election as Abbot, in 1182, Jocelin was prior's chaplain, but within four months he was made abbot's chaplain, "noting many things and committing them to memory" (39): for which all students of English history are eternally grateful to him. In his capacity as Samson's chaplain, Jocelin was "constantly with him by day and night for six years, and had the opportunity of becoming fully conversant with the worthiness of his life and the wisdom of his rule" (56).
Jocelin evidently starts at first with an admiration for Samson's vigorous and independent régime (see especially pages 52-3); but later on his faith in his master seems to have been a little shaken, and Samson's action in practically "jockeying" his favourite Herbert into the office of prior takes Jocelin's breath away. The eventful meeting of the chapter over, he sits down stupefied in the porch of the guest chamber (he being then hospitarius), and reflects on the situation (198). He cannot approve, moreover, Samson's action with regard to John Ruffus and Adam the Infirmarer, where he more than hints at the Abbot's acceptance of a bribe (200). The banking up by Samson of the fishpond at Babwell, thus flooding the pastures and gardens of others, he describes as "another stain of evil doing" (201): the Abbot's passionate retort that "his fish pond was not to be spoilt on account of our meadows," obviously offending Jocelin's sense of the proprieties. He demurs, moreover, to the willingness of certain of the monks to strip even the shrine of St. Edmund himself to obtain an exemption of the Abbey from episcopal visitation, pointing out that there might come a time when the convent might need the control of a bishop, archbishop, or legate, over a tyrannous or spendthrift abbot (7).
It is perhaps for these reasons that we find Jocelin, at a date after Samson's death, on the side of the party of caution and moderation in the disputes over the election of a new abbot. The author, whoever he was, of the interpolated narrative in the Chronicle relating to Henry of Essex (101 et seq.) refers to "Master Jocelin our almoner, a man of exalted piety, powerful in word and in deed"; and there can hardly be any doubt that this was our Jocelin. In the highly complicated story (printed in Mr. Arnold's second volume) of the preliminaries to the final approval by King John of Samson's successor, Abbot Hugh II., Jocelin the almoner took the side of Robert of Gravelee, the sacrist, who advocated the adoption of the plan followed when the previous vacancy occurred, of submitting to the king names from whom he could make a selection (as indeed John had asked might be done by letter dated 25 July, 1213), instead of asking him, as they did, to confirm an election already made. Jocelin, in a speech delivered in the chapter-house, seems indeed to have been the first to start the view that the convent had made a mistake, and that it ought to put itself right with the king. He again insisted on this at a second debate in December, 1213, and took a prominent part in the subsequent discussions, his name being recorded in the division list of June, 1214, when 30 voted on his side, and 32 for adherence to the claims of the Abbey.
The three delegates, the Abbot of Wardon, the Prior of Dunstable, and the Dean of Salisbury, who had been appointed by the Pope on May 18, 1214, to inquire into the Bury election, held the last but one of their numerous sittings on February 12, 1215, at which Jocelin was present. At last the delegates announced on March 10 their judgment confirming the election, which, with considerable trouble, they persuaded the sacrist and his party to accept, and to exchange with the new abbot the kiss of peace.
When, on April 24, 1215, the abbot elect, unsuccessful in obtaining John's favour, and refusing to bribe the king, though advised to do so by the courtiers, appointed certain officials to the custody of Abbey manors, he took the advice, amongst other high officers, of Jocelin the almoner; and this is the last we hear of our Chronicler.
Jocelin himself mentions (23) that he had written a book on the many signs and wonders in connection with the martyrdom by the Jews of the boy Robert, who was buried in the Abbey Church; but this work is not known to be extant. The inaccurate Bale also ascribes to him the authorship of the tract Super Electione Hugonis (also in the Liber Albus), from which the above facts as to Jocelin's later life have been gleaned. But there is no authority for this; and, as Mr. Arnold points out (i. lix.), the style of that work is different from the Chronicle.
Whatever criticisms one might be tempted to pass on Carlyle's appreciation of Samson, there need be no dissentient voice to his summing up of Jocelin's character:—
An ingenious and ingenuous, a cheery-hearted, innocent, yet withal shrewd, noticing, quick-witted man; and from under his monk's cowl has looked out on the narrow section of the world in a really human manner.... The man is of patient, peaceable, loving, clear-smiling nature; open for this or that.... Also he has a pleasant wit, and loves a timely joke, though in mild, subdued manner. A learned, grown man, yet with the heart as of a good child.
The Central Figure of the Chronicle.—Whatever his other merits, Jocelin's strong point was certainly not chronological sequence. With the assistance of the Table of Dates printed on pages 261-267, the reader will, it is hoped, get some useful sort of idea of the busy life of Abbot Samson, both within and without the walls of the monastery, whilst it was under his vigorous rule; and as to his personal characteristics, virtues and foibles, they are writ large in almost every chapter of the Chronicle.
He was obviously of humble origin, and his dialect was that of his native county of Norfolk (62). He seems to have lost his father early, for we read of his conferring, soon after he became Abbot, a benefice upon the son of a man of lowly station who had been kind to him in his youth and looked after his interests (66). As a child of nine, he had been taken by his mother to a pilgrimage to St. Edmund, after a dream which presaged his future service under that saint (56). When he was a poor clerk, William, the schoolmaster of Diss, had given him free admission to his school: a favour which he requited by giving Walter, son of William, the living of Chevington (67). Similarly, he helped those of his kinsmen who had recognized him when he was a poor clerk, provided they were worthy; but with those who had then held aloof from him he wished to have no dealings (66).
At some early date Samson went to Paris to study, a friend who then supported him there by the proceeds of the sale of holy water receiving afterwards a benefice from him (66). Just as he did not forget the friends who had helped him in his early struggles so he remembered past kindnesses shown to him when he was a poor monk and out of favour with the authorities. When Hugh, his predecessor, clapped him into irons, Hugh's cupbearer Elias brought him some wine to quench his prison thirst (67); and when he needed a night's lodging on his return from Durham on the business of the Abbey, a resident at Risby gave him the shelter which a neighbour refused (68). Neither favour was forgotten when Elias and William of Risby came before him as landlord.
By 1160 Samson was back from abroad as master of the schools at Bury, though he did not become a professed monk till 1166. Meanwhile he had been sent on an errand to Rome, with reference to the church at Woolpit, in which his native wit showed itself (73, 74). He seems to have been successful in his mission, getting from Pope Alexander III. a reversion for the monastery of the Woolpit living; but, perhaps because he returned too late to prevent Geoffrey Ridel being appointed by the king (74), Abbot Hugh banished him, on his return, to Castle Acre. Here he remained in exile a long time (74), and he was sent there again after he had become a cloister monk, and had spoken up "for the good of our Church" in opposition to the Abbot (6).
Samson in Subordinate Offices.—Much as Hugh disliked Samson, he seems to have been a little afraid of him; and, to reconcile matters, he made Samson subsacrist. "Often accused," says Jocelin, "he was transferred from one office to another, being successively guest master, pittance master, third prior, and again subsacrist" (9). But he could not be induced to fawn on and flatter the Abbot, as other officials did; and Hugh declared that "he had never seen a man whom he could not bend to his will, except Samson the subsacrist" (10).
When at length Hugh's trying dispensation came to an end, through his horse accident at Canterbury in 1180, Samson was, as subsacrist, busy with new building operations for the Church (14). His superior officer, the bibulous William Wiardel, the sacrist, was jealous of him, and persuaded the wardens of the Abbey to stop any further expense for works during the vacancy (15). But Samson knew some things to William's financial and moral discredit, on which he was later able to base the sacrist's dismissal from office (46-7).
The gossip amongst the monks as to which of the brethren should fill Hugh's place is admirably told by Jocelin (Chap. ii.). Whilst the rest were babbling at blood-letting season, Samson the subsacrist sat smiling but saying nothing (21). The receipt of Henry II.'s order or permission to make choice of a new Abbot put the monastery in a flutter; and the selection of the deputation to wait upon the King, and their interview with their liege lord, is most naïvely described in chapter iii. The secret ballot at Bury for three names was a surprise to the higher officials (31), and they did what they could to diminish Samson's chances. But after some fencing the Bishop of Winchester asked the deputation point blank whom they wanted, and the answer was—Samson: "no one gainsaying this" (34).
Samson as Abbot.—And so the once oppressed and obscure monk returned to Bury the absolute ruler of the foundation, with the king's remark in his ears when he noted, with apparent admiration at Bishop's Waltham, how Samson comported himself in the royal presence: "By the eyes of God, this Abbot elect thinks himself worthy to govern an abbey!" (35). So indeed he did, setting to work at once after his ceremonial installation (37) to institute reforms of all sorts. As Carlyle says, and his words must suffice in this place:—
How Abbot Samson, giving his new subjects seriatim the kiss of fatherhood in the St. Edmundsbury chapter-house, proceeded with cautious energy to set about reforming their disjointed, distracted way of life; how he managed with his Fifty rough Milites (Feudal Knights), with his lazy farmers, remiss refractory monks, with Pope's Legates, Viscounts, Bishops, Kings; how on all sides he laid about him like a man, and putting consequence on premiss, and everywhere the saddle on the right horse, struggled incessantly to educe organic method out of lazily fermenting wreck,—the careful reader will discern, not without true interest, in these pages of Jocelin Boswell.
To tell the story of all this would be to paraphrase the Chronicle; and the reader is therefore referred to the List of Contents for instances of the Abbot's capacity and resourcefulness in dealing with the complicated interests under his control.
But there is one aspect of his busy life to which allusion may perhaps here be made, as showing the influence and importance of the Abbot of St. Edmundsbury outside the monastery walls.
Relations with Church and State.—Samson's abbacy extended over the pontificates of five Popes and the reigns of three Kings, by all of whom his strength of character and wisdom of counsel seem to have been appreciated. Pope Lucius III., who had succeeded, in 1181, Alexander III., to whom Samson had twenty years before paid a visit on behalf of the Abbey (72), appointed the new abbot a judge in the ecclesiastical courts within seven months of his election (51). Urban III. granted Samson in 1187-8, the privilege of giving the episcopal benediction (84) and other concessions. Celestine III. placed him in 1197 on the commission for restoring the expelled monks at Coventry (142); and Innocent III. granted on December 1, 1198, without hesitation, on Samson's application, an exemption of Bury Abbey from episcopal visitation even by a legate unless he were a legate a latere (124).
King Henry II., who had apparently formed a favourable opinion of Samson from his demeanour on his election (35), practically decided in his favour on February 11, 1187, in his dispute with Archbishop Hubert concerning his abbatial jurisdiction over Monk's Eleigh, where a case of homicide had occurred (78). In the same year, the king at Clarendon favourably considered Samson's petition with reference to the immunity of Bury Abbey from certain taxes (96). Having taken the Cross on January 21, 1188, Henry II. came to Bury within a month to pay a pilgrimage to St. Edmund, when Samson endeavoured, without success, to obtain the king's permission to do likewise (81).
In the next year Henry died at Chinon (July 6, 1189), and Samson had to deal with a new sovereign: at whose coronation on September 3, 1189, he was present. One of Richard's earliest acts was the sale of offices, crown rights, crown property, and royal favours to fill his military chest; saying indeed that he would sell London if he could find a purchaser. Amongst the bargains of this sort was the sale to Samson of the manor of Mildenhall for 1,000 marks, after the astute abbot had offered him half that amount (70). The queen-mother was entitled by custom of the realm to 100 marks as a perquisite in connection with this transaction, and took in lieu thereof a gold cup which had been given to the abbey by Henry II. This same cup came back to Bury in exchange for 100 marks (71), when the 70,000 marks required to ransom King Richard was being raised in England (147).
When the news of Richard's capture reached England, Samson rose in his place in the King's Council to express his readiness to seek the king in Germany, either in disguise or any other way: "by reason whereof," says Jocelin, "he obtained great approbation" (81). Later on he did go to Germany, "and visited the king with many gifts" (82).
Towards the end of Richard's reign, in 1198, Samson tried to avoid sending four of his knights to Normandy, in obedience to the King's orders, and went to see him, with the result that Richard accepted four mercenaries, and afterwards a hundred pounds to discharge the obligation (128-30). He brought back with him on this occasion for the adornment of the abbey church a golden cross and a valuable copy of the Gospels (130); and Jocelin records that so often as he returned from beyond sea on his numerous visits abroad, he brought back with him some offering for the church (131), besides making gifts to it on other occasions.
In 1198 a serious quarrel took place between Richard and Samson over the wardship of Nesta of Cockfield, the daughter of a family whose tenure of lands from the Abbey is recorded with wearisome iteration in the Chronicle. Samson would not give way, despite the threats of the King, which he "very wisely passed over without notice," and in the end Richard yielded with a good grace, asking the abbot if he would send him some of his dogs. The abbot of course complied, and added some horses and other valuable gifts, in exchange for which Richard sent him a ring given to him by the new Pope, Innocent III. (147-9).
Just as Samson had "obtained the favour and grace of King Richard by gifts and money, so that he had good reason to believe that he could succeed in all his undertakings, the King died, and the abbot lost all his labour and outlay" (178). It became therefore necessary to propitiate Richard's successor. King John made an early pilgrimage to St. Edmund, but left in bad odour with the monastery, which had spent much money on his entertainment, but had only received in return thirteenpence offered by the king at the shrine of the Saint on the day of his departure, besides a silken cloth borrowed for the occasion from the sacrist and never paid for (178). John must, however, have thought highly of the abbot to summon him over sea in 1203 to confer with him as to the Pope's letter concerning the dispensation of Crusaders from their vows (207).
Samson as an Author.—Once when Jocelin asked why he had been sighing so heavily and was so wakeful at nights, Samson confided to him how greatly he felt the burden of his charge; and on another occasion said that if he had known what it involved, he would, rather than be abbot and lord, have preferred to be keeper of the books, "for this office he had ever desired above all others" (55).
Jocelin hints a polite incredulity; but there are evidences that Samson was fond of books, and was indeed an author. There is a small volume, Titus A viii. in the Cottonian collection, which includes in its contents a work in two books, entitled De Miraculis Sancti Ædmundi. From a number of marginal notes, of even date with the fourteenth century text, and which ascribe to Samson, amongst other writers, the authorship of various passages in the great legendary life of St. Edmund in the Bodleian Library (MS. 240), Mr. Arnold arrived at the conclusion that "the writer of the work was unquestionably Abbot Samson." For the evidence the reader is referred to Appendix I. (pages 215-21); but it would appear that the work was written before the date when he became abbot, and perhaps before he had been appointed to any one of the numerous offices in the monastery to which he was from time to time transferred by the capricious Hugh (9).
Whenever any new event was recorded in his patron saint's honour, Samson caused it to be recorded: hence at his desire the episode of Henry of Essex, whom St. Edmund had "confounded in the very hour of battle" (102), was reduced to writing at Reading, and interpolated by some other monk in Jocelin's chronicle.
Samson's Masterfulness.—Samson, like his prototype of Scripture, was a "strong man," and as such he came into constant conflict with those who sought to try conclusions with him, usually to their own regret. From instances innumerable, the following may be selected as typical. At his very first general court of his knights, Thomas of Hastings tried to press the claim of his nephew Henry—a minor—to the hereditary stewardship of the Abbey; but Samson said he would consider the matter when Henry could perform the duties (41). Richard, Earl of Clare, demanded his guerdon of five shillings for the office of Standard-bearer of St. Edmund. Samson retorted that the payment of the money would not inconvenience the Abbey; but there were two other claimants for the post, and Richard must settle first with them. The Earl said he would confer with Roger Bigot his kinsman, "and so the matter was put off even to this day" (86).
Geoffrey Ridel, the Bishop of Ely, sent a blundering messenger to the abbot to ask for timber from woods at Elmswell, meaning Elmsett. Samson assented to the request for Elmswell, and meanwhile sent his foresters to Elmsett and cut down a great quantity of oaks, branding them as the property of the Abbey. The bishop overwhelmed his stupid servant with reproaches, and sent him back to explain. But it was too late, "and the bishop, if he wanted timber, had to get it elsewhere" (107).
Herbert the dean erected a windmill upon the Haberdon, and tried to brazen it out with Samson. But the abbot bade him begone, and told him that before he had come to his house, he should hear what had befallen his mill. Whereupon the trembling dean had the mill pulled down himself, so that when the servants of the sacrist came to the spot, they found their work already done for them (90).
In the domestic quarrel with his monks over the case of Ralph, the gate porter, who had been punished by Robert the prior with the assent of all the monastery, Samson upset the proceedings on his return from London, and, after a violent struggle, got his own way (179-83).
There is a pleasing affectation of impartiality in the case of another Herbert, the junior candidate for the office of Prior, on the much-worried Robert's death in 1200. The monks were conscious that Samson "would seek the advice of each with great show of formality," but that the affair would end as he had all along intended (193). On the day of election the Precentor was egged on by one of the elder brethren in an audible aside to nominate Herbert. Samson behaved as if this was a new light to him, but offered no objection to receive Herbert if the convent willed. And so, after a protestation of his unworthiness, Herbert was elected (196); and Jocelin tried, after these bare-faced proceedings, to recover his equanimity in the porch of the guest-chamber (197).
Samson as an Administrator.—Samson seems to have been something of a financial genius; he certainly freed the monastery from debt, and brought its internal affairs and its landed estates from chaos into order. He was undoubtedly more of an administrator than an ecclesiastic. He obviously enjoyed his ceremonial duties as Commissioner for the King or for the Pope. He went to the siege of Windsor in 1193 in martial array, though Jocelin is constrained to admit that he was "more remarkable there for counsel than for piety" (82). He appeared to be in his highest spirits when he went to Coventry in January, 1198, to help to restore the monks there who had been ejected by their somewhat truculent Bishop, Hugh de Nonant. Samson gave magnificent entertainments at Oxford, where the Commission sat, and "never in his life did he seem so joyful as at that time" (143).
He was fond, too, of country life, spending much time at his manors of Melford and elsewhere, "enclosing many parks, which he replenished with beasts of chase, and keeping a huntsman with dogs," though Jocelin is careful to add that he "never saw him take part in the sport" (43). With some of these dogs Samson appeased Richard's wrath when he flouted the king as to a disputed wardship (149). One of the complaints against him by those who chafed under his rule was that he was fond of betaking himself to his manors, and Jocelin's excuse for him is that "the abbot is more in spirits and in good humour elsewhere than at home" (53). Jocelin took him to task over this, but had a text from Ecclesiasticus hurled at his head, which induced him to "hold his peace henceforth" (54).
With broader outlook than his obedientiaries, Samson recognized the necessity of granting greater freedom to the inhabitants of the town of Bury, and, despite the grumbling of his monks, he gave the burgesses a Charter in 1194 (116). The resentment against him in the monastery ran so high in 1199 that he professed to be afraid of his life (182). Though matters were then patched up, the old feeling of indignation against his concessions to the townsfolk endured, and an occasion for manifesting it arose when, early in 1203, Samson was summoned by King John to advise him on a brief sent by the Pope as to the dispensation of certain Crusaders from their vows. To the undisguised astonishment of Jocelin, Samson sought the advice of the monastery, "a thing he heretofore had seldom done" (207); but he was boldly asked what he proposed to do to get back the lost privileges of the Abbey (210). He was then "weakened by infirmity of body, humbled, and (as was not his wont) timid" (207); and it must be remembered that he was by this time not far short of seventy years of age. He spoke the monks fair, promised redress, and "that upon his return he would co-operate with us in everything, and make just order and disposition, and render to each what was justly his" (211).
Jocelin hints by a quotation from Ovid that there was some apprehension that this promise would remain unfulfilled: and then in Carlyle's words—
Jocelin's Boswellian narrative, suddenly shorn through by the scissors of Destiny, ends. Impenetrable Time-curtains rush down. Monks, Abbot, Hero-Worship, Government, Obedience, Cœur de Lion, and St. Edmund's Shrine, vanish like Mirza's vision; and there is nothing left but a mutilated black ruin amid green botanic expanses.
Epilogue.—As to what happened to Samson after he returned from the visit to his sovereign, we have no information whatever from any known source. Perhaps when he had reached the allotted span of life, he came to feel that the time had arrived to take things more easily, and to be less inelastic in his governance of the Abbey. The last nine years of his chequered life are an absolute blank so far as the available records are concerned, if we except his execution of certain formal documents included in the Suffolk Feet of Fines. But when at last, at the ripe age of 77, he died on the 30th December, 1211, at twilight (inter lupum et canem), on the night of the feast of St. Thomas the Martyr, a tenderer feeling towards him obviously existed amongst his monks.
The compiler of the Annales Sancti Edmundi (who from the last phrase but one would seem to have been a contemporary) thus records his decease:—
On the sixth day of Christmas, at St. Edmund's, died Samson, of pious memory, the venerable abbot of this place. Who, after he had for thirty years prosperously ruled the Abbey committed to him, and had freed it from a load of debt,—had enriched it with privileges, liberties, possessions, and spacious buildings, and had restored the worship of the church, both internally and externally, in the most ample manner, bidding his last farewell to his sons, by whom the blessed man deserved to be blessed for evermore, while they all were standing by, and gazing with awe at a death which was a cause for admiration, not for regret (non miserabilem sed mirabilem), in the fourth year of the interdict rested in peace (Arnold, ii. 19, 20).
"In the fourth year of the Interdict": there is a significance in these words not perhaps immediately apparent. During the last few years of Samson's life, public worship in his beloved abbey was stopped; the altars were stripped, and the church doors closed, in view of the interdict hurled at the recalcitrant John by the Pope in March, 1208. More trying than this to the feelings of the age was the requirement that the dead should be buried in silence and in unconsecrated ground. So Samson was laid by his sorrowing monks in the bosom of mother earth "in pratello," where he remained until after the Interdict was removed in July, 1214. The writer of the Electio Hugonis records, in barbarous Latin (Arnold, ii. 85), that on August 9 of that year the sacrist raised the question as to the proper interment of Samson "of venerable memory." The prior (Herbert), the cantor and Master Thomas of Walsingham, with other high officials, thought Samson ought, for greater honour, to be buried in the Abbey church. The sacrist—William of Gravelee, of whose uncompromising character we have had a glimpse before—was alone in resisting this, saying that so long as he had any power in the matter, neither Samson nor any one else should be buried in the church. As the sacrist was the responsible official this objection could apparently not be got over, and so on August 12, 1214, the remains of Samson were exhumed, and reburied in the chapter-house, which in the days of his life had resounded to that eloquence of which Jocelin speaks (62).
What happened to the chapter house after the suppression of the Abbey in 1539 is not known; but it seems probable that when the lead of its roof was stripped off, it was left to crumble to decay by itself, for some recent excavations in the winter of 1902-3 brought to light quantities of beautifully worked stone, granite and marble columns, and fragments of stained glass.
On New Year's Day of this year five stone coffins, each with a skeleton within, and a sixth skeleton (uncoffined) were found under the floor of the chapter-house in the exact positions in which a MS. of circa 1425, now preserved at Douai, records the burial places of Samson, two of his predecessors, and three of his successors as Abbots; and there can be no reasonable doubt therefore that those who, like myself, were privileged to be associated with these excavations, have gazed upon the mortal remains of one of the grandest and most picturesque figures of Angevin times.
I am indebted to many friends for hints and suggestions in the preparation of the Notes in Appendix II., especially to Lord Francis Hervey, Dr. Montague R. James, and Mr. Francis Ford, all three of whom have intimate personal knowledge of Bury St. Edmunds and its history. In addition, Dr. James has been good enough to critically compare the English text of the Chronicle with the Latin original, and has made many valuable improvements, for which my especial thanks are due to him. Mr. R. W. Chambers, M.A., Librarian of University College, has also given me much assistance in the revision of the text in the compilation of the Index.
13a, Hanover Square, W. May, 1903.
And to procede ferthere in this mater, Yf ye list aduertise in your mynde, An exaumplaire and a meror cler, In this story ye shal now seen and fynde. So as I kan, in soth I will nat spare But heer in ordre reherse by wrytyng, Folwyng myn auctours in euery maner thyng, As in substance vpon the lettre in deede, To do plesance to them that shal it reede. John Lydgate.
(Harleian MS. 2278: lines 417-20, 426-30.)
CHAPTER I
bury abbey under abbot hugh
THAT which I have heard and seen have I taken in hand to write, which in our days has come to pass in the Church of St. Edmund, from the year when the Flemings were taken captive without the town, at which time I took upon me the religious habit, being the same year wherein prior Hugh was deposed, and Robert made prior in his stead: and I have mingled in my narration some evil deeds by way of warning, and some good by way of profit.
Now, at that time, Hugh the abbot was old, and his eyes were somewhat dim. A pious and kind man was he, a good and religious monk, yet not wise or far-sighted in worldly affairs; one who relied too much on his officers, and put faith in them, rather taking counsel of others than abiding by his own judgment.
To be sure, the Rule and the religious life, and all pertaining thereto were healthy enough in the cloister, but outdoor affairs were badly managed; inasmuch as every one serving under a simple and already aged lord did what he would, not what he should.
The townships of the abbot and all the hundreds were set to farm, the forests were destroyed, the manor houses threatened to fall, everything daily got worse and worse. One resource only the abbot had, and that was to take up moneys on interest, so that thereby he might be able in some measure to keep up the dignity of his house. There befel not a term of Easter or St. Michael, for eight years before his decease, but that one or two hundred pounds at least increased in principal debt; the securities were always renewed, and the interest which accrued was converted into principal.
This laxity descended from the head to the members, from the superior to the subjects. Hence it came to pass that every official of the house had a seal of his own, and bound himself in debt at his own pleasure, to Jews as well as to Christians. Oftentimes silken copes and golden cruetts, and other ornaments of the church, were pledged without the knowledge of the convent. I myself saw a security passed to William Fitz Isabel for one thousand and forty pounds, but I never could learn the consideration or the cause. I also saw another security passed to Isaac, the son of Rabbi Joce, for four hundred pounds, but I know not wherefore. I also saw a third security passed to Benedict, the Jew of Norwich, for eight hundred and eighty pounds; and this was the origin of that debt.
Our parlour was destroyed, and it was given in charge to William the sacrist, will he, nill he, that he should restore it. He privily borrowed from Benedict the Jew forty marks at interest, and gave him a security sealed with a certain seal, which used to hang at the shrine of St. Edmund, wherewith the gilds and letters of fraternity were wont to be sealed: a seal which later on, but alas! too late, was broken by order of the convent. Now, when this debt had increased to one hundred pounds, the Jew came bearing a letter from our lord the King, touching the debt of the sacrist; and then it was that all that had been secret from the abbot and convent was laid bare.
The abbot waxed exceedingly wroth, and wished to depose the sacrist, alleging that he possessed a privilege of our lord the pope, giving him power of deposing William, his sacrist, whensoever it pleased him. Howbeit, some one went to the abbot, and excusing the sacrist, so wheedled the abbot that he permitted a security to be passed to Benedict the Jew for four hundred pounds, payable at the end of four years, namely, for one hundred pounds, which had then already accrued for interest, and also for another hundred pounds, which the same Jew had advanced to the sacrist for the use of the abbot. And the sacrist in full chapter undertook for the whole of that debt to be paid, and a deed was drawn up and sealed with the conventual seal: the abbot dissimulating, and not affixing his own seal, as if that debt was no concern of his.
But at the end of the four years, there were no means of discharging the debt; and then a fresh deed was executed for eight hundred and eighty pounds, payable at set terms, at the rate of eighty pounds a year. Moreover, the same Jew had many other securities of smaller account, and one which was for fourteen years; so this debt alone came to one thousand and two hundred pounds, besides the interest that had accrued.
Now R., the almoner of our lord the King, coming to us, signified to the abbot that such and such information had reached the King concerning such and such debts. Thereupon, after consultation had between the prior and a few others, the almoner was conducted into the chapter house, where all of us being seated, and holding our peace, the abbot said, "Look you, here is the King's almoner, our and your lord and friend, who, moved by the love of God and of St. Edmund, has intimated to us that the King has heard something wrong of us and you, and particularly that the affairs of the church, both internally and externally, are being badly managed; and therefore I desire and command that, upon your vow of obedience, ye state and explain openly how things really are." Hereupon the prior, standing up and speaking as one for all, said that the church was in good order, that the Rule was strictly and religiously observed indoors, and that matters out of doors were carefully and discreetly conducted, save some slight debt, in which ourselves, like our neighbours, were involved; but that, in fact, there was no debt which could embarrass us. The almoner, hearing this, said he was rejoiced that he had heard the testimony of the convent concerning this matter: meaning, what the prior had said.
The very same words the prior upon another occasion used, as did Master Geoffry of Constantine, speaking on behalf of and excusing the abbot, when Richard the archbishop, in virtue of his office as legate, visited our chapter, before we had such exemption as we now enjoy.
I myself, who was at that time a novice, on a convenient occasion, talked these things over with the master who instructed me in the Rule, and to whose care I was committed,—namely, Master Samson, who afterwards became abbot. "What is this," I said, "that I hear? How can you hold your tongue while you see and hear such things, you who are a cloistered monk, and desire not offices, and fear God more than man?" But he answering, said, "My son, the newly burnt child dreads the fire; so it is with me and many others. Hugh, the prior, has been lately deprived of his office and sent into exile; Dennis and Hugh and Roger of Hengham have but lately returned home from exile. Even I, in like manner, was imprisoned, and afterwards sent to Acre, because we spoke for the good of our church, in opposition to the abbot. This is the hour of darkness; this is the time when flatterers rule and are believed, and their might is strengthened, and we can do nothing against it; these things must be borne with for a time. 'Let the Lord look upon it and judge.'"
Now a rumour reached Abbot Hugh that Richard, Archbishop of Canterbury, proposed coming to make a visitation of our church by virtue of his authority as legate; and thereupon the abbot, after consultation, sent to Rome and sought a privilege of exemption from the power of the aforesaid legate. On the messenger's return from Rome there was not wherewith to discharge what he had promised to our lord the pope and the cardinals, except, indeed, under the special circumstances of the case, the cross which was over the high altar, the little image of the Virgin, and the St. John (which images archbishop Stigand had adorned with a vast quantity of gold and silver, and had given to St. Edmund).
There were certain of our convent who, being on terms of intimacy with the abbot, said that the shrine of St. Edmund itself ought to be stripped, as the means of obtaining such a privilege. But these persons did not consider the great peril that the possession of such a privilege might entail; for if there should hereafter be any abbot of ours who chose to waste the possessions of the church, and to despoil his convent, then there would be no one to whom the convent could complain touching the wrongs done by an abbot, as he would have no reason to fear a bishop, archbishop, or legate, and his impunity would lend him the courage to transgress.
In these days the cellarer, as well as other officials, borrowed moneys at interest from Jurnet the Jew (without apprising the convent), upon a security sealed with the above-mentioned seal. Now, when that debt had mounted up to sixty pounds, the convent was summoned to pay the cellarer's debt. The cellarer was deposed, although he said it was hard to deal thus with him, stating that for three years he had entertained in the guest-house by the abbot's orders, whether the abbot were in residence or not, all the guests which the abbot ought himself to entertain, according to the rule of the abbey.
Master Dennis was made cellarer in his stead, and by his circumspection and good management he reduced the debt of sixty pounds to thirty pounds; towards which debt we applied those thirty marks which Benedict of Blakenham gave to the convent for holding the manors of Nowton and Whepsted. But the securities of the Jew have remained with the Jew even to this day, wherein are contained the twenty-six pounds of principal and interest of the cellarer's debt.
Now, on the third day after Master Dennis became cellarer, three knights with their esquires were received in the guest-house that they might there be refreshed, the abbot then being at home, and abiding in his inner chamber; all which, when this great-souled Achilles had heard, not willing to pay toll in his own domain, as the others had done, he rose up and took the key of the cellar, and taking with him those knights to the abbot's hall, and approaching the abbot, said, "My lord, you well know that the rule of the abbey is, that knights and lay folk should be entertained in your hall, if the abbot be at home. I neither will nor can receive those guests whom it belongs to you to entertain; else take back the keys of your cellar, and appoint some other cellarer at your good pleasure." The abbot hearing this, nill he, will he, entertained those knights, and ever afterwards entertained knights and lay folk according to the ancient rule, and so they are still received when the abbot is at home.
Once upon a time, Abbot Hugh, wishing to conciliate Master Samson, appointed him sub-sacrist; and he, often accused, was often transferred from one office to another. At one time he was appointed guest-master, at another time pittance-master, at another time third prior, and again sub-sacrist; and many were then his enemies who afterwards flattered him. But he, not acting as the other officials did, never could be induced to turn flatterer; whereupon the abbot said that he had never seen a man whom he could not bend to his will, except Samson the sub-sacrist.
In the twenty-third year of his abbacy, Abbot Hugh bethought him that he would go to St. Thomas for the purpose of performing his devotions. He had nearly got to the end of his journey, on the morrow of the nativity of the Blessed Mary, when, near Rochester, he most unhappily fell from his horse, so that his knee-pan was put out and lodged in the ham of his knee. The physicians came about him, and sorely tormented him, but they healed him not. He was brought back to us in a horse-litter, and received with great attention, as was most fitting. What more? His leg mortified, and the disorder mounted to his heart. The pain brought on a tertian fever, and on the fourth fit he expired, and rendered his soul to God on the morrow of St. Brice.
Ere he was dead, everything was snatched away by his servants, so that nothing at all remained in the abbot's house except the stools and the tables, which could not be carried away. There was hardly left for the abbot his coverlet and two quilts, old and torn, which some, who had taken away the good ones, had placed in their stead. There was not even a single article of a penny's worth that could be distributed among the poor for the good of his soul.
The sacrist said it was not his business to have attended to this, alleging that he had furnished the expenditure of the abbot and his household for one whole month, because neither the firmars who held the vills would pay anything before the appointed time, nor would creditors advance anything, seeing that he was sick even unto death.
Luckily, the farmer of Palgrave furnished us with fifty shillings to be distributed among the poor, by reason that he entered upon the farm of Palgrave on that same day. But those very fifty shillings were afterwards again refunded to the King's bailiffs, who demanded the whole farm-rent for the King's use.
CHAPTER II
the monks discuss the vacancy
HUGH the abbot being buried, it was ordered in chapter that some one should give intelligence to Ranulf de Glanville, the justiciar of England, of the death of the abbot. Master Samson and Master R. Ruffus, our monks, quickly went beyond seas, to report the same fact to our lord the King, and obtained letters that those possessions and rents of the monastery, which were distinct from those of the abbot, should be wholly in the hands of the prior and convent, and that the remainder of the abbey should be in the hands of the King. The wardship of the abbey was committed to Robert of Cockfield and Robert of Flamville, the steward, who forthwith put by gage and safe pledges all those servants and relatives of the abbot to whom the abbot had, after the commencement of his illness, given anything, or who had taken anything away belonging to the abbot, and also the abbot's chaplain (a monk of the house), whom the prior bailed. Entering into our vestiary, they caused all the ornaments of the church to be noted down in an inventory.
During the vacancy in the abbacy, the prior, above all things, studied to keep peace in the convent, and to preserve the honour of the church in entertaining guests, being desirous of irritating no one, of not provoking anybody to anger; in fact, of keeping all persons and things in quietude. He nevertheless winked at some acts in our officials which needed reformation, and especially in the sacrist, as if he cared not how that officer dealt with the sacristy. Yet during the vacancy, the sacrist neither satisfied any debt nor erected any building, but the oblations and incomings were foolishly frittered away.
Wherefore the prior, who was the head of the convent, seemed by the greater part to be highly censurable, and was said to be remiss; and this thing our brethren called to mind among themselves, when it came to the point of making choice of an abbot.
Our cellarer entertained all guests, of whatsoever condition they were, at the expense of the convent. William the sacrist, on his part, gave and spent as he chose, kind man! giving alike what he should and should not; "blinding the eyes of all with gifts."
Samson the sub-sacrist, being master over the workmen, did his best that no breach, chink, crack or flaw should be left unrepaired so far as he was able; whereby he acquired great favour with the convent, and especially with the cloister monks. In those days our choir was erected by Samson's exertion; and he arranged the order of the paintings, and composed elegiac verses for them. He also made a great draught of stone and sand for building the great tower of the church. Being asked whence he procured the money for his work, he answered that certain of the burgesses had privily given him moneys for building and completing the tower.
Nevertheless, certain of our brethren said that Warin, a monk of our house and keeper of the shrine, together with Samson the sub-sacrist, had conspired to remove some portion of the offerings to the shrine, in order that they might disburse the same for the necessary purposes of the church, and in particular for the building of the tower; being the more ready to believe this when they saw that the offerings were expended for extraordinary purposes by others, who, to speak plainly, stole them. And these before-named two men, in order to remove from themselves the suspicion of any such pious theft, made a certain hollow trunk, with a hole in the middle or at the top, and fastened with an iron lock. This they caused to be set up in the great church, near the door without the choir, where the common people usually pass, so that persons should put their contributions therein for the building of the tower.
Now William the sacrist had a jealousy of his companion Samson, as had many others who took part with the same William, Christians as well as Jews; the Jews, I say, to whom the sacrist was said to be father and protector, whose protection they indeed enjoyed, having free ingress and egress, and going all over the monastery, rambling about the altars and by the shrine while high mass was being celebrated. Moreover, their moneys were kept safe in our treasury, under the care of the sacrist, and, what was still more improper, their wives with their little ones were lodged in our pittancy in time of war. His enemies or opponents having, therefore, consulted together how they might suddenly overcome Samson, they conferred with Robert of Cockfield and his colleague, who were wardens of the abbey, and persuaded them to this—that they should, on behalf of the King, forbid any one to erect any fabric or building so long as the abbacy was vacant; but that, on the other hand, the moneys from the offerings should be collected, and kept for the purpose of discharging some debt.
And thus was Samson beguiled, and his "strength departed from him," nor could he from thenceforth labour as he had desired. Indeed, his opponents were able to delay, but not annul, his purpose; for having regained his strength, and "pulled down the two pillars," that is, having removed the two wardens of the abbey, upon whom the malice of others relied, the Lord gave him, in process of time, the means of fulfilling his desire of building the aforesaid tower, and of finishing it even as he wished. And so it was, as if it had been said to him from above, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things."
During the time that the abbacy was vacant we oftentimes, as was our duty, besought God and the holy martyr St. Edmund that they would vouchsafe to us and our church a meet shepherd, thrice every week singing the seven penitential psalms prostrate in the choir, after going forth from chapter. There were some amongst us who, had it been known who was to be abbot, would not have prayed so devoutly.
As concerned the choice of an abbot, assuming the King gave us free election, divers men spoke in divers ways—some publicly, some privately; and "so many men, so many opinions."
One said of another, "That brother is a good monk, a likely person; he is well conversant with the Rule and custom of the house; although he may not be so perfect a philosopher as certain others, he would make a very good abbot. Abbot Ording was not a learned man, and yet he was a good abbot, and governed this house wisely: we read, too, in the fable, that it had been better for the frogs to have chosen a log for a king, upon whom they might rely, than a serpent, who venomously hissed, and after his hisses devoured his subjects."
Another would answer, "How may this be? How can an unlearned man deliver a sermon in chapter, or to the people on festivals? How can he who does not understand the Scriptures attain the knowledge of 'binding and loosing'? seeing that the cure of souls is the art of arts and science of sciences. God forbid that a dumb image should be set up in the Church of St. Edmund, where many learned and studious men are well known to be."
Also said one of another, "That brother is a good clerk, eloquent and careful, strict in the Rule; he has much loved the convent, and has undergone many hardships in respect of the possessions of the church: he is worthy to be made abbot." Another answered, "From good clerks, Good Lord, deliver us: that it may please Thee to preserve us from the barrators of Norfolk, we beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord." Moreover, one said of another, "That brother is a good manager, which is proved from his department, and from the offices which he has well served, and by the buildings and reparations which he has performed. He is able to travail for and defend the house, and is, moreover, something of a clerk, although 'much learning has not made him mad': he is worthy to be made abbot." Another answered, "God forbid that a man who can neither read nor chant, nor perform Divine service—a wicked and unjust man, and a grinder of the faces of the poor—should be abbot."
Also said one of another, "That brother is a kind man, affable and amiable, peaceful and well-regulated, open-hearted and liberal, a learned man and an eloquent, a proper man enough in looks and deportment, and beloved by many, indoors as well as out; and such a man might, with God's permission, become abbot to the great honour of the church." The other answered, "It is no honour, but rather a burden, to have a man who is too nice in his meat and drink; who thinks it a virtue to sleep long; who is expert in spending much, and yet gets little; who is snoring when others are awake; who always is desirous to be in plenty, nor yet cares for the debts which increase from day to day, nor considers the means of discharging expenses; hating anxiety and trouble; caring for nought so long as one day comes and another goes; a man cherishing and fostering flatterers and liars; a man who is one thing in name and another in deed. From such a prelate defend us, O Lord!"
Also said a certain one of his fellow, "That man is almost wiser than all of us put together, both in secular and ecclesiastical matters; a wonderful counsellor, strict in rule, learned and eloquent, and of proper stature; such a prelate would do honour to our church."
The other answered, "True, if he were of known and approved reputation. His character is questionable; report may lie, or it may not. And although the man you mean is wise, of lowly carriage in chapter, devout in psalmody, strict in the cloister whilst he is in the cloister, yet it is mere outward show with him. What if he do excel in any office? He is too scornful, lightly esteems the monks, is closely intimate with secular persons; and should he be angry, scarcely returns an answer with a good grace to any brother, or to one even asking a question of him."
I heard in like manner one brother disparaged by some, because he was slow of speech; of whom it was said that he had paste or malt in his mouth when he was called upon to speak. And as for myself, being at that time a youth, "I understood as a youth, I spoke as a youth;" and said I never could consent that any one should be made abbot unless he knew somewhat of dialectics, and knew how to discern truth from falsehood. Again, a certain person, who in his own eyes seemed very wise, said, "May the almighty Lord bestow on us a foolish and simple shepherd, so that it should be the more needful for him to get help from us!"
I heard in like manner a certain studious and learned man, and honourable by the nobility of his family, disparaged by some of our seniors merely for this reason—because he was a novice. The novices, on the other hand, said of the elders, that old men were valetudinarians, by no means fit to govern a monastery. And thus many persons spoke many things, "and each was fully persuaded in his own mind."
I observed Samson the sub-sacrist as he was sitting along with the others at blood-letting season (at which time monks are wont to reveal to each other the secrets of the heart, and to talk over matters with each other). I saw him, I say, sitting along with the others, smiling and saying nothing, but noting the words of each, and after a lapse of twenty years calling to mind some of the before-written opinions. In whose hearing I used to reply to these critics, that if we were to put off the choice of an abbot until we found one who was above disparagement or fault, we never should find such a one, for no one alive is without fault, and "no estate is in all respects blessed."
Upon one particular occasion I was unable to restrain myself but must needs blurt out my own private opinion, thinking that I spoke to trusty ears. I then said that a certain person who formerly had a great regard for me, and had conferred many benefits upon me, was unworthy of the abbacy, and that another was more worthy; in fact, I named one for whom I had less regard.
I spoke according to my own conscience, rather considering the common weal of the church than my own advancement; and what I said was true, as the sequel proved. And, behold, one of the sons of Belial disclosed my saying to my friend and benefactor; for which reason, even to this day, never could I since, neither by entreaty nor good offices, regain his goodwill to the full. "What I have said I have said." "And the word once spoken flies without recall."
One thing remains, that I take heed to my ways for the future; and if I should live so long as to see the abbacy vacant, I shall consider carefully what, to whom, and when I speak on such a matter, lest I either offend God by lying, or man by speaking unreasonably. I shall then advise (should I last so long), that we choose not too good a monk, nor yet an over-wise clerk, neither one too simple nor too weak; lest, if he be over wise in his own conceit, he may be too confident in his own judgment, and contemn others; or, if he be too boorish, he may become a byword to others; I know that it has been said, "In the middle you will be safest," also that "Blessed are they who hold a middle course."
Perhaps, after all, it may be the best course to hold my peace altogether, and say in my heart, "He that is able to receive it, let him receive it."
The abbacy being vacant, Augustine, the Archbishop of Norway, took up his abode with us, in the house of the abbot, receiving by the King's precept ten shillings a day from the revenues of the abbey. He was of considerable assistance in obtaining for us our free election, bearing witness of what was well, and publicly declaring before the King what he had seen and heard.
At that time the holy child Robert suffered martyrdom, and was buried in our church; and many signs and wonders were wrought among the people, as we have elsewhere written.
CHAPTER III
the choice of a new abbot
ONE year and three months having elapsed since the death of Abbot Hugh, the King commanded by his letters that our prior and twelve of the convent, in whose mouth the judgment of our body might agree, should appear on a certain day before him, to make choice of an abbot. On the morrow, after the receipt of the letters, we all of us met in chapter for the purpose of discussing so important a matter. In the first place the letters of our lord the King were read to the convent; next we besought and charged the prior, at the peril of his soul, that he would, according to his conscience, name twelve who were to accompany him, from whose life and conversation it might be depended upon that they would not swerve from the right; who, acceding to our charge, by the dictation of the Holy Ghost named six from one side and six from the other side of the choir, and without gainsaying satisfied us on this point. From the right-hand choir were named—Geoffrey of Fordham, Benedict, Master Dennis, Master Samson the sub-sacrist, Hugh the third prior, and Master Hermer, at that time a novice; from the left-hand side—William the sacrist, Andrew, Peter de Broc, Roger the cellarer, Master Ambrose, Master Walter the physician.
But one said, "What shall be done if these thirteen cannot agree before our lord the King in the choice of an abbot?" A certain one answered that that would be to us and to our church a perpetual shame. Therefore, many were desirous that the choice should be made at home before the rest departed, so that by this forecast there should be no disagreement in the presence of the King. But that seemed a foolish and inconsistent thing to do, without the King's assent; for as yet it was by no means a settled thing that we should be able to obtain a free election from the King.
Then said Samson the sub-sacrist, speaking by the spirit of God, "Let there be a middle course, so that from either side peril may be avoided. Let four confessors be chosen from the convent, together with two of the senior priors of the convent, men of good reputation, who, in the presence of the holy relics, shall lay their hands upon the Gospels, and choose amongst themselves three men of the convent most fit for this office, according to the rule of St. Benedict, and put their names into writing. Let them close up that writing with a seal, and so being closed up, let it be committed to us who are about to go to the court. When we shall have come before the King, and it shall appear that we are to have a free election, then, and not till then, shall the seal be broken, and so shall we be sure as to the three who are to be nominated before the King. And let it be agreed amongst us, that in case our lord the King shall not grant to us one of ourselves, then the seal shall be brought back intact, and delivered to the six under oath, so that this secret of theirs shall remain for ever concealed, at the peril of their souls." In this counsel we all acquiesced, and four confessors were then named; namely, Eustace, Gilbert of Alveth, Hugh the third prior, Anthony, and two other old men, Thurstan and Ruald. Which being done, we went forth chanting "Verba mea," and the aforesaid six remained behind, having the rule of St. Benedict in their hands; and they fulfilled that business as it had been pre-ordained.
Now, whilst these six were treating of their matter, we were thinking differently of different candidates, all of us taking it for granted that Samson would be one of the three, considering his travails and perils of death in his journey to Rome for the advancement of our church, and how he was badly treated and put in irons and imprisoned by Hugh the abbot, merely for speaking for the common weal; for he could not be induced to flatter, although he might be forced to hold his tongue.
After some delay, the convent being summoned returned to chapter; and the old men said they had done as they were commanded. Then the prior asked, "How shall it be if our lord the King will not receive any of those three who are nominated in the writing?" And it was answered that whomsoever our lord the King should be willing to accept should be adopted, provided he were a professed monk of our house. It was further added, that if those thirteen brethren should see anything that ought to be amended by another writing, they should so amend it by common assent or counsel.
Samson the sub-sacrist, sitting at the feet of the prior, said, "It will be profitable for the church if we all swear by the word of truth that upon whomsoever the lot of election shall fall, he should treat the convent according to reason, nor change the chief officers without the assent of the convent, nor surcharge the sacrist, nor admit any one to be a monk without assent of the convent." And to this we all of us assented, holding up our right hands in token of assent. It was, moreover, provided, that if our lord the King should desire to make a stranger our abbot, such person should not be adopted by the thirteen, unless upon counsel of the brethren remaining at home.
Upon the morrow, therefore, those thirteen took their way to court. Last of all was Samson, the purveyor of their charges, because he was sub-sacrist, carrying about his neck a little box, in which were contained the letters of the convent—as if he alone was the servant of them all—and without an esquire, bearing his frock in his arms, and going out of the court, he followed his fellows at a distance.
In their journey to the court, the brethren conversing all together, Samson said that it would be well if they all swore that whosoever should be made abbot should restore the churches of the lordships belonging to the convent to the purposes of hospitality; whereto all agreed, save the prior, who said, "We have sworn enough already; you may so restrict the abbot that is to be, that I shall not care to obtain the abbacy." Upon this occasion they swore not at all, and it was well they did so, for had they sworn to this, the oath would not have been observed.
On the very day that the thirteen departed we were all sitting together in the cloister, when William of Hastings, one of our brethren, said, "I know that we shall have one of our convent to be abbot." And being asked how he came to be so certain of this, he replied, that he had beheld in a dream a prophet clothed in white, standing before the gates of the monastery, and that he asked him, in the name of God, whether we should have an abbot of our own. And the prophet answered, "You shall have one of your own body, but he shall rage among you as a wolf"; of which dream the interpretation followed in part, because the future abbot cared more to be feared than loved, as many were accustomed to say.
There also sat along with us another brother, Edmund by name, who asserted that Samson was about to be abbot, and told a vision he had seen the previous night. He said he beheld in his dream Roger the cellarer and Hugh the third prior, standing before the altar, and Samson in the midst, taller by the shoulders upward, wrapt round with a long gown down to his feet, looped over his shoulders, and standing as a champion ready to do battle. And, as it seemed to him in his dream, St. Edmund arose from his shrine, and, as if sickly, showed his feet and legs bare. When some one approached and desired to cover the feet of the saint, the saint said, "Approach me not; behold, he shall veil my feet," pointing with his finger towards Samson. This is the interpretation of the dream: By his seeming to be a champion is signified that the future abbot should always be in travail; at one time moving a controversy against the Archbishop of Canterbury, concerning pleas of the Crown, at another time against the knights of St. Edmund, to compel them to pay their escuages in full; at another time with the burgesses for standing in the market; at another time with the sokemen for the suits of the hundreds; even as a champion who willeth by fighting to overcome his adversaries that he may be able to gain the rights and liberties of his church. And he veiled the feet of the holy martyr when he perfectly completed the towers of the church, commenced a hundred years before.
Such dreams as these did our brethren dream, which were immediately published throughout the cloister, afterwards through the court lodge, so that before the evening it was a matter of common talk amongst the townsfolk, they saying this man and that man are elected, and one of them will be abbot.
At last the prior and the twelve that were with him, after many fatigues and delays, stood before the King at Waltham, the manor of the Bishop of Winchester, upon the second Sunday in Lent. The King graciously received them; and, saying that he wished to act in accordance with the will of God and the honour of our church, commanded the brethren by prolocutors—namely, Richard the Bishop of Winchester, and Geoffrey the chancellor, afterwards Archbishop of York—that they should nominate three members of our convent.
The prior and brethren retiring as if to confer thereupon, drew forth the sealed writing and opened it, and found the names written in this order—Samson, sub-sacrista; Roger, celerarius; Hugo, tercius prior. Hereupon those brethren who were of higher standing blushed with shame; they also marvelled that this same Hugh should be at once elector and elected. But, inasmuch as they could not alter what was done, by mutual arrangement they changed the order of the names; first naming Hugh, because he was third prior; secondly, Roger the cellarer; thirdly, Samson, thus literally making the last first and the first last.
The King, first inquiring whether they were born in his realm, and in whose lordship, said he knew them not, directing that with those three, some other three of the convent should be nominated. This being assented to, William the sacrist said, "Our prior ought to be nominated because he is our head," which was directly allowed. The prior said, "William the sacrist is a good man"; the like was said of Dennis, and that was settled. These being nominated before the King without any delay, the King marvelled, saying, "These men have been speedy in their work; God is with them."
Next the King commanded that, for the honour of his kingdom, they should name three persons of other houses. On hearing this, the brethren were afraid, suspecting some craft. At last, upon conference, it was resolved that they should name three, but upon this understanding, that they would not receive any one of those three, unless by assent of the convent at home. And they named these three—Master Nicholas of Waringford, afterwards (for a season) Abbot of Malmesbury; Bertrand, Prior of St. Faith's, afterwards Abbot of Chertsey; and Master H. of St. Neot's, a monk of Bec, a man highly religious, and very circumspect in spiritual as well as temporal affairs.
This being done, the King thanked them, and ordered that three should be struck off of the nine; and forthwith the three strangers were struck off, namely, the Prior of St. Faith's, afterwards Abbot of Chertsey, Nicholas, a monk of St. Albans, afterwards Abbot of Malmesbury, and the Prior of St. Neot's. William the sacrist voluntarily retired, two of the five were struck out by command of the King, and, ultimately, one out of the remaining three. There then remained but two, the prior and Samson.
Then at length the before-named prolocutors of our lord the King were called to the council of the brethren: and Dennis, speaking as one for all, began by commending the persons of the prior and Samson, saying, that each of them was learned, each was good, each was of meritorious life and good character. But always in the corner of his discourse he gave prominence to Samson, multiplying words in his praise, saying that he was a man strict in life, severe in reforming excesses, and ready to work hard; heedful, moreover, in secular matters, and approved in various offices. The Bishop of Winchester replied, "We see what it is you wish to say; from your address we gather that your prior seems to you to have been somewhat remiss, and that, in fact, you wish to have him who is called Samson." Dennis answered, "Either of them is good, but, by God's help, we desire to have the best." To whom the bishop, "Of two good men the better should be chosen. Speak out at once; is it your wish to have Samson?" Whereupon several, in fact the majority, answered clearly, "We do wish Samson." No one gainsaid this, though some studiously held their peace, being fearful of offending either one or the other.
Samson was then named to the King, and after a brief consultation with those about him, the King called all in, and said, "You present to me Samson—I know him not; had you presented to me your prior, I should have accepted him, because I know and am well acquainted with him; but now I will do as you desire me. Take heed to yourselves; by the very eyes of God, if you have done ill, I shall call you to severe account." And he inquired of the prior, whether he assented to this choice and agreed thereto; who replied that he was well content it should be so, and that Samson was worthy of a much greater dignity.
Then the elect, falling down at the King's feet and kissing them, hastily arose, and forthwith went towards the altar, erect in gait, and with unmoved countenance, singing "Miserere mei Deus," together with his brethren.
The King, observing this, said to the bystanders, "By the eyes of God, this abbot-elect thinks himself worthy to govern an abbey!"
CHAPTER IV
samson's installation
NOW when the news of the election arrived at the monastery, it gladdened all the cloister monks and some of the officers also, but only a few. "It is well," many said, "because it is well." Others said, "Not so; verily we are all deceived." The elect, before he returned to us, received his benediction from my lord of Winchester, who, at the same time, placing the mitre on the head of the abbot, and the ring on his finger, said, "This is the dignity of the abbots of St. Edmund; my experience long since taught me this." The abbot, therefore, keeping three monks with him, despatched the others homewards, sending word by them of his intended arrival on Palm Sunday, and giving charge to certain of them to provide the things necessary for his day of festival.
As he returned homewards, a multitude of new relations came about him offering to serve him, but he answered all of them that he was content with the servants of the prior, nor could he retain others until he had obtained the assent of the convent. Nevertheless, he retained one knight who was well spoken and learned in the law, not so much upon the score of relationship, but on account of his usefulness, he being well practised in secular suits.
This knight he took, while he was fresh to the work, as an assessor in secular controversies; for he was a new abbot, and inexperienced in such concerns, as he himself was free to declare: indeed, before he received the abbacy, he had never been present where gage and safe pledge had been given.
With the accustomed honours, and with a procession, was he received by his convent on Palm Sunday. The abbot's reception was in this wise: overnight he lay at Kentford, and we, at the proper moment, went forth from the chapter-house to meet him with great solemnity, up to the gate of the cemetery, with ringing of bells inside the choir and without. He himself was surrounded by a multitude of men, and when he espied the fraternity, he dismounted from his horse outside the threshold of the gate. Causing his shoes to be taken off, he was received barefooted within the door, and conducted on each side by the prior and sacrist.
We chanted the responses "Benedictus Dominus," in the office of the Trinity, and then "Martyri adhuc," in the office of St. Edmund, leading the abbot up to the high altar. This being finished, the organs and bells were silenced, and the prayer, "Omnipotens sempiterne Deus miserere huic," was said by the prior over the abbot, who was prostrate. An offering was then made by the abbot, and kissing the shrine, he returned into the choir. There Samson the precentor took him by the hand and led him to the abbot's throne at the west end; where, the abbot still standing, the precentor straight-way began, "Te Deum laudamus," and whilst this was being sung, the abbot was kissed by the prior and the whole convent in order. This done, the abbot proceeded to the chapter-house, the whole convent following him, with many others.
"Benedicite" having been said, in the first place he gave thanks to the convent that they had chosen him—who was, he said, the least of them all—to be their lord and shepherd, not on account of his own merits, but solely by the will of God. And beseeching them briefly that they would pray for him, he addressed his discourse to the clerks and knights, requiring them that they should assist him with their advice according to the burden of the charge entrusted to him. And Wimer the sheriff, answering for them all, said, "We are ready to stand by you in counsel and assistance on every occasion, as we did by our dear lord whom God has called to his glory, and to the glory of the holy martyr St. Edmund." And then were the charters of the King concerning the gift of the abbacy produced and read in full audience. Lastly, after a prayer by the abbot himself, that God might guide him according to his Divine grace, and "Amen" being responded by all, he retired to his chamber, spending his day of festival with more than a thousand dinner guests with great rejoicing.
While these things were taking place I was the prior's chaplain, and within four months was made the abbot's chaplain, noting many things, and committing them to memory. On the morrow of his feast the abbot called to him the prior and some few besides, as if seeking advice from others, though he himself knew what he would do. He said that a new seal should be made with a mitred effigy of him, although his predecessors had not the like; but for a time he used the seal of our prior, subscribing at the end of all letters, that he had no seal of his own and therefore he used for the time that of the prior.
Afterwards, setting his household in order, he appointed divers servants to various duties, saying that he had decided to have twenty-six horses in his courtyard, and that a child must first creep and then stand upright and walk. He enjoined this to his servants beyond all things, that they should take heed that in his new state he be not dishonoured by a lack of meat and drink, but rather that they in all things should anxiously provide for the hospitality of the house. In ordering and appointing these and all other things, he fully relied upon God's providence and his own understanding, and judged it beneath him to require counsel at another's hand as if he were not able to look after his own affairs.
The monks marvelled, the knights were discontented, accusing him of arrogance, and, in some measure censuring him at the King's court, saying that he refused to govern according to the advice of his own freemen. As for him, he removed from his own private counsel the heads of the abbey, lay as well as clerical; indeed, all those without whose advice and assistance the abbey, as it seemed, could not be governed. By reason of this circumstance, Ranulf de Glanville, Justiciary of England, at first held him in distrust, and was less gracious to him than was fitting, until it was made clear, by good evidence, that the abbot had been acting with due caution and prudence in respect of indoor as well as external matters.
A general court having been summoned, all the barons, knights and freemen appeared to do homage on the fourth day of Easter; when, behold, Thomas of Hastings, with a great multitude of knights, came introducing Henry his nephew, not yet a knight, claiming the stewardship with its perquisites, according to the tenor of his charter. To whom the abbot replied, "I do not refuse Henry his right, nor do I wish so to do. If he were competent to serve me in his own person, I would assign him necessaries for ten men and eight horses in my own court-lodge, according to the tenor of his charter. If you present to me a steward, his deputy, who is competent and able to perform the duty, I will receive him in the same manner as my predecessor retained him at the time of his decease, namely, with four horses and their appurtenances. And if this does not content you, I shall carry the plaint before the King or his chief justice." Hereupon the business was deferred.
Ultimately there was presented to him a simple and foolish steward, Gilbert by name, of whom, before he received him into his household, he spoke to his friends as follows: "If there be a default in the administration of the King's justice through the unskilfulness of the steward, he will be in mercy of the King, and not I, for this, that he claims the office by hereditary right; and therefore I had much rather receive him for the present than a sharper witted man to deceive me. By God's assistance I trust I shall be my own steward."
After receipt of the homages, the abbot sued for an aid from the knights, who promised each twenty shillings; but immediately they took counsel together and withheld twelve pounds in respect of twelve knights, alleging that those twelve ought to assist the other forty in keeping their castle-guards, and for their escuages, as well as in respect of the abbot's aid. The abbot, hearing this, waxed wroth, and said to his intimate friends that if he lived long enough he would give them turn for turn and wrong for wrong.
CHAPTER V
the new abbot's reforms
AFTER these things the abbot caused inquisition to be made throughout each manor, concerning the annual quit rents from the freemen, and the names of the labourers and their tenements, and the services due from each; and he reduced all into writing. Likewise he repaired those old halls and unroofed houses round which hovered kites and crows. He built new chapels, and likewise inner chambers and upper stories in many places where there never had been any dwelling-house at all, but only barns. He also enclosed many parks, which he replenished with beasts of chase, keeping a huntsman with dogs; and, upon the visit of any person of quality, sat with his monks in some walk of the wood, and sometimes saw the coursing of the dogs; but I never saw him take part in the sport.
He cleared much land, and brought it into tillage, in all things looking forward to the benefit likely to accrue to the abbey; but I wish he had been equally careful in assigning the manors of the convent. Nevertheless, he, for a time, kept our manors of Bradfield and Rougham in hand, making up the deficiencies of the rents by the expenditure of forty pounds. These he afterwards reassigned to us when he heard that dissatisfaction was expressed in the convent, on account of his keeping our manors in his own hand. Likewise in managing these manors, as well as in all other matters, he appointed keepers who were far more careful than their predecessors—some monks, some laymen, to look after us and our lands more carefully.
He also held the eight hundreds in his own hand, and, after the death of Robert of Cockfield, he took in hand the hundred of Cosford, all which he committed to the keeping of those servants who were of his own table; referring matters of greater moment to his own decision, and deciding by means of others upon matters of lesser import—indeed, wringing everything to his own profit.
Moreover, by his command, a general survey was made throughout the hundreds of the leets and suits, of hidages and foddercorn, of hen-rents, and of other dues and rents and issues, which, for the greater part, had ever been concealed by the farmers. He reduced it all to writing, so that within four years from the time of his election, there was not one who could defraud him of the rents of the abbey to the value of a single penny, whereas he himself had not received from his predecessors any writing touching the management of the abbey, except one small schedule, wherein were the names of the knights of St. Edmund and the names of the manors, and what rent was due on each farm. This book he called his kalendar, wherein also were entered the debts he had satisfied; and this same book he almost daily perused, as if in the same he were beholding the face of his honesty in a glass.
The first day that he held a chapter, he confirmed to us, under his new seal, sixty shillings from Southrey, which his predecessors had unjustly received from Edmund, surnamed the golden monk, for the liberty of holding the same vill to farm all the days of his life. He also proposed, as a general rule, that from thenceforth no one should pledge the ornaments of the church without the assent of the convent, as had been the custom heretofore, nor that any charter should be sealed with the convent seal, unless in chapter in the presence of the convent. He appointed Hugh as sub-sacrist, ordering that William the sacrist should not have anything to do with the sacristy, either in the matter of receipt or disbursement, unless by his consent. After this, but not on the same day, he transferred the former keepers of the offerings to other offices; lastly, he deposed the same William: wherefore those who liked William said, "Behold the abbot! Lo, here is the wolf of whom it was dreamed! See how he rages!"
And some of them would have entered into a conspiracy against the abbot. When this was disclosed to him, he, not caring to be altogether silent, nor yet to disquiet the convent, entered the chapter-house on the morrow, and pulled out a little bag full of cancelled deeds, the seals yet hanging thereto, consisting of the securities, partly of his predecessor, partly of the prior, partly of the sacrist, partly of the chamberlain, and other officials, whereof the total was three thousand and fifty-two pounds and one mark without alloy, besides the interest that had accrued thereupon, the amount of which could never be ascertained. All these he had arranged for within one year after his election, and within twelve years entirely discharged. "Behold," said he, "the good management of William, our sacrist; look at the multitude of securities signed with his seal, whereby he has pledged silken copes, dalmatics, censers of silver and books ornamented with gold, without the knowledge of the convent, all which I have redeemed and have restored to you."
He likewise added many other things, showing why he had deposed the said William: howbeit he suppressed the real cause, not wishing to put him to open shame. And when he put Samson the precentor in his place, a person approved by us, and above all objection, everything was quiet again. Furthermore, the abbot commanded that the houses of the sacrist in the cemetery should be entirely plucked up, as though they were not worthy to stand upon the earth, by reason of the frequent wine-bibbings, and certain other acts not to be named, which he, with grief and indignation, had witnessed while he was sub-sacrist. So completely did he obliterate the whole that, within a year, upon the spot where a noble dwelling had stood, we saw beans growing, and where casks of wine had lain, nettles abounding.
After the end of Easter, the abbot went over every one of his and our manors, as well as over those we had confirmed to the farmers in fee, requiring from all of them aid and acknowledgment, according to the law of the land. Thus every day he was increasing in secular knowledge, and was turning his attention to the learning and method of ordering outdoor affairs. Now when he had come to Warkton, where he slept at night, there came to him a voice saying, "Samson, arise up quickly"; and, again, "Get up without delay." Getting up astonished, he looked around him, and perceived a light in a necessary house, namely, a candle ready to fall down upon the straw, which Reiner the monk had carelessly left there. When the abbot had put it out, going through the house, he perceived the door (which was the sole entrance) so fastened that it could only be opened by a key—likewise the windows fastened: so that if a fire had arisen, he, and all with him, who slept upon that floor, had surely perished, for there was no place whence they might get out or escape.
At that time, wheresoever the abbot went, there came about him Jews as well as Christians, demanding debts, and worrying and importuning him so that he could not sleep. Thereupon he became pale and thin, and was constantly repeating, "My heart will never rest until I know the extent of my debts." The feast of St. Michael being come, he took all his manors into his own hand, with but small store of live or dead stock; he freely forgave Walter of Hatfield nineteen pounds arrears, that he might absolutely take back four manors which Hugh the abbot had confirmed to him, namely, Hargrave and Saxham and Chevington and Stapleford; Harlow, indeed, the abbot deferred to take to himself on the present occasion.
Once on a time, as we passed through the forest in returning from London, I inquired in the hearing of my lord abbot, from an old woman passing by, whose was this wood, and of what town, who was the lord, and who was the keeper? She answered that the wood belonged to the abbot of St. Edmund, as part of the town of Harlow, and that the name of the keeper was Arnald. When I inquired further, how Arnald conducted himself towards the men of the town, she answered, that he was a devil incarnate, an enemy of God, and one to flay the poor alive; but now, she added, he is afraid of the new abbot of St. Edmund, whom he believes to be prudent and vigilant, and therefore he treats the men gently. On hearing this, the abbot was delighted, and deferred taking to the manor for a season.
At that time there came unexpectedly the news of the death of the wife of Herlewin of Rungton, who had a charter to hold the same town for her life; and the abbot said, "Yesterday, I would have given sixty marks to have freed the manor from this incumbrance, but now God has freed it." And as he was going thither without delay, that he might take that town into his own hand, and on the morrow was going to Tillener, a part of that manor, there came a certain knight offering thirty marks for the tenure of that carucate of land, with the appurtenances, by the old rent-service, to wit, four pounds, whereto the abbot could not agree; and he had therefrom in that year twenty-five pounds, and the second year twenty pounds.
These and such like things induced him to hold everything in his own keeping; as it is written elsewhere, "Cæsar was all in all." In the first place, far from being inert, he commenced building barns and byres, above all things solicitous to dress the land for tillage, and watchful in preserving the woods, in respect whereof, either in giving or diminishing, he confessed himself to be a very miser. There was but one manor, and that was Thorpe, which by his charter he confirmed to one of English birth, a villein, whose honesty he trusted the more, as he was a good husbandman, and could not speak French.
Scarcely seven months had elapsed since his election, when, behold! there were presented to him the letters of our lord the Pope, appointing him a judge to determine causes, for the execution of which he was incompetent and inexperienced, although he was thoroughly imbued with liberal arts and divinity, as befitted a man of learning, a literate man, educated in the schools and a master in them, known and approved in his own province. Wherefore he invited two clerks, learned in the law, and associated them to himself. Of their advice he availed himself in ecclesiastical matters, employing himself upon the decrees and decretal epistles, when an opportunity offered; so that within a short time, as well by references to books as by the handling of causes, he became reputed a discreet judge, proceeding in every suit according to form of law; so a certain person said, "Cursed be the court of this abbot, where neither gold nor silver can help me to confound my adversary."
In process of time, becoming somewhat practised in secular causes, and taught by an inborn commonsense, he became of so subtle a wit that all marvelled; indeed, by Osbert Fitz-Hervey, the under-sheriff, it was said, "This abbot is a wrangler; if he goes on as he has begun, he will outwit us all, many as we be." Now the abbot becoming an expert man in causes of this description, was made a justice errant, but yet he preserved himself from error and corruption. But "envy aims at the highest." When his men made their plaints to him in the court of St. Edmund, because he was unwilling to give hasty judgment, or to "believe every spirit," but preferred to proceed in due course of law, well knowing that the merits of causes are developed by the allegations of the parties, it was said of him that he would not do justice to any complainant, unless by the intervention of money given or promised.
Because his aspect was acute and penetrating, with a Cato-like countenance, rarely smiling, it was said that he inclined to severity rather than kindness. In receiving amerciaments for any forfeiture, it was said that "Mercy rejoices against judgment"; for as it seemed to many, when it became an affair of receiving money, he seldom remitted what by law he was entitled to take.
In like manner as he advanced in wisdom, so did he advance in thoughtful care, in respect of keeping and acquiring property, and in creditably regulating his expenses. But even here many backbiters took their ground, saying that he resorted to the sacristy at his own pleasure, sparing his own purse, letting his corn lie by for a dear season, and taking to his manors in other sort than his predecessors did, charging the cellarer with the entertainment of those guests he himself was bound to receive; so that by this craft it might be said that the abbot was careful and well stocked at the end of the year; while, on the other hand, the convent and officials were to be accounted careless and improvident. In reply to these back-bitings, I used to observe, that if he took anything from the sacrist, he turned it to the good account of the church, and this none of these slanderers could deny. And in good truth, greater and more numerous works were carried out by the help of the offerings to the sacristy within fifteen years after his election than in the forty years before it.
To the other objections, that the abbot was fond of betaking himself to his manors, I was wont to answer, and did excuse him, saying, "The reason is because the abbot is more in spirits and in good humour elsewhere than at home." And this was true enough, whether it were by reason of the frequency of suitors who came about him, or from the tale-bearers, wherefore it frequently happened that by the appearance of severity in his face he lost much favour and grace in the eyes of his guests, notwithstanding they fared well in eating and drinking. I noticed this, and took an opportunity, when I was with him in private, to say, "There are two things in which I am much surprised at you." When he had inquired what these things might be, "One is that in spite of your position you still encourage the doctrine of the school of Melun, which says that from a false premiss no conclusion can follow, and other idle sayings."
To which, when he had said his say, I added, "The other indeed is, that when you are at home you do not exhibit the same gracious demeanour you do when elsewhere, nor do you mix in society with those brethren who have a strong regard for you, and have chosen you for their lord; but contrariwise, you seldom associate with them, nor do you, as they say, make yourself on sociable terms with them." Hearing this, he changed countenance, and hanging down his head, said, "You are a simpleton, and speak foolishly; you ought to know what Solomon says—'Hast thou many daughters: show not thyself cheerful toward them.'" I indeed held my peace from thenceforth, setting a watch on my mouth.
On another occasion I said, "My lord, I heard you this night after matins wakeful and sighing heavily, contrary to your usual wont." He answered, "No wonder; you are partaker of my good things, in meat and drink, in riding abroad, and such like, but you have little need to care concerning the conduct of the house and household of the saints, and arduous business of the pastoral care which harasses me and makes my spirit to groan and be heavy." Whereto I, lifting up my hands to heaven, made answer, "From such anxiety, almighty and most merciful Lord, deliver me!"
I have heard the abbot say, that if he could have been as he was before he became a monk, and could have had five or six marks of income wherewith he could have been supported in the schools, he never would have been monk or abbot. On another occasion he said with an oath, that if he could have foreseen what and how great a charge it had been to govern the abbey, he would rather than abbot and lord have been master of the almonry, and keeper of the books, for this office he said he had ever desired above all others. Yet who would credit this? Scarcely myself; and not even myself, except that being constantly with him by day and night for six years, I had had the opportunity of becoming fully conversant with the worthiness of his life and the wisdom of his rule.
He once related to me, that when he was a child of nine years old, he dreamed that he was standing before the gates of the cemetery of the church of St. Edmund, and that the devil, with outspread arms, would have seized him, had not St. Edmund, standing by, taken him in his arms; whereupon he screamed whilst dreaming in his sleep, "St. Edmund, save me!" and thus calling upon him whose name he had never heard, he awoke. His mother was alarmed at such an outcry, but having heard the dream, took him to St. Edmund for the purpose of praying there; and when they had come to the gate of the cemetery he said, "See, mother, this is the place, this is the very same gate which I saw in my dream when the devil was about to seize me"; and he knew the place as well, to use his own words, as if he had seen it before with his natural eyes. The abbot himself interpreted this dream thus: By the devil were signified the pleasures of this mortal state, which would fain have drawn him away; but St. Edmund threw his arms around him when he made him a monk.
Once when he was told that certain of the convent grumbled at some act of his, he said to me as I sat by him, "Good God! there is need enough that I should remember that dream wherein it was dreamed of me, before I was made abbot, that I was to rage among them as a wolf. True it is that above all earthly things I dread lest the convent behave in such a way that I shall be compelled so to rage. But even so it is, when they say or do anything against my will, I bring to mind that dream of theirs, and although I do rage in my own soul, growling and gnashing my teeth in secret, I do violence to myself lest I should actually rage in word or deed," and "My hidden grief chokes me and my heart surges within me."
Although by nature he was quick to wrath, and easily kindled to anger, yet with a great struggle he mostly restrained his temper in view of the dignity he held. Concerning which he sometimes used to boast, "This and that I saw, this and that I heard, yet I held my peace." The abbot once said, seated in chapter, certain words by which he seemed to eagerly desire the good-will of the monastery. "I do not wish," he said, "that any one should come to me to accuse another, unless he is willing to say the same openly. If any one does otherwise, I will publicly proclaim the name of the accuser. I wish also that every cloister monk shall have free access to me, that he may speak to me, whenever he chooses, concerning all things necessary to him." This he said, because our leaders in the days of Abbot Hugh, wishing that nothing should be done in the monastery except through them, had decreed that no cloister monk should speak with the abbot unless he had first told the abbot's chaplain what he wished to speak about.
On a certain day he made an order in chapter, that every one who had a seal of his own should give it up to him, and so it was accordingly done, and there were found three-and-thirty seals. He himself explained the reason of this order, forbidding that any official should incur any debt above twenty shillings without the assent of the prior and convent, as had been the custom heretofore. To the prior and to the sacrist, indeed, he returned their seals, but kept the rest himself.
At another time he ordered to be delivered up to him all the keys of the chests, cupboards, and hanapers, strictly enjoining that thenceforth none presume to have a chest or anything locked up, unless by special permission, or otherwise possess anything beyond what the rule allows. Notwithstanding this he gave general licence to every one of us to have money to the amount of two shillings, if so much happened to have been given to us by way of charity; so that it might be expended upon poor relations, or for purposes of piety.
On another occasion the abbot said, that he was desirous of adhering to our ancient custom respecting the entertainment of guests; that is, when the abbot is at home, he is to receive all guests of whatsoever condition they may be, except religious and priests of secular habit, and except their men who present themselves at the gate of the court in the name of their masters; but if the abbot be not at home, then all guests of whatsoever condition are to be received by the cellarer up to thirteen horses. But if a layman or clerk shall come with more than thirteen horses, they shall be entertained by the servants of the abbot, either within the court-lodge, or without, at the expense of the abbot. All religious men, even bishops if they happen to be monks, are to be charged upon the cellary and at the expense of the convent, unless the abbot will do any one special honour, and entertain him in his own hall at his own expense.
CHAPTER VI
samson's personal characteristics
THE abbot Samson was of middle stature, nearly bald, having a face neither round nor yet long, a prominent nose, thick lips, clear and very piercing eyes, ears of the nicest sense of hearing, arched eyebrows, often shaved; and he soon became hoarse from a short exposure to cold. On the day of his election he was forty and seven years old, and had been a monk seventeen years. He had then a few grey hairs in a reddish beard, and a very few in a black and somewhat curly head of hair. But within fourteen years after his election it became as white as snow.
He was a man remarkably temperate, never slothful, of strong constitution, and willing to ride or walk till old age gained upon him and moderated such inclination. On hearing the news of the Cross being taken, and the loss of Jerusalem, he began to use under garments of horsehair and a horsehair shirt, and to abstain from flesh and flesh meats. Nevertheless, he desired that meats should be placed before him at table for the increase of the alms dish. Sweet milk, honey and such like sweet things he ate with greater appetite than other food.
He abhorred liars, drunkards and talkative folk; for virtue ever is consistent with itself and rejects contraries. He also much condemned persons given to murmur at their meat or drink, and particularly monks who were dissatisfied therewith, himself adhering to the uniform course he had practised when a monk. He had likewise this virtue in himself, that he never changed the mess set before him.
Once when I, then a novice, happened to be serving in the refectory, I wished to prove if this were true, and I thought I would place before him a mess which would have displeased any other than him, in a very black and broken dish. But when he looked at it, he was as one that saw it not. Some delay took place, and I felt sorry that I had so done; and snatching away the dish, I changed the mess and the dish for a better, and brought it to him; but this substitution he took in ill part, and was angry with me for it.
An eloquent man was he, both in French and Latin, but intent more on the substance and method of what was to be said than on the style of words. He could read English books most admirably, and was wont to preach to the people in English, but in the dialect of Norfolk, where he was born and bred; and so he caused a pulpit to be set up in the church for the ease of the hearers, and for the ornament of the church. The abbot also seemed to prefer an active life to one of contemplation, and rather commended good officials than good monks. He very seldom approved of any one on account of his literary acquirements, unless he also possessed sufficient knowledge of secular matters; and whenever he chanced to hear that any prelate had resigned his pastoral care and become an anchorite, he did not praise him for it. He never applauded men of too compliant a disposition, saying, "He who endeavours to please all, ought to please none."
In the first year of his being abbot, he appeared to hate all flatterers, and especially among the monks; but in process of time it seemed that he heard them more readily, and was more familiar with them. It once happened that a certain brother of ours, skilled in this art, had bent the knee before him, and under the pretence of giving advice, had poured the oil of flattery into his ears. I, standing apart, smiled. The brother having departed, I was called and asked why I had smiled. I answered, "The world is full of flatterers." And the abbot replied, "My son, it is long that I have known flatterers; I cannot, therefore, avoid hearing them. There are many things to be passed over and taken no notice of, if the peace of the convent is to be preserved. I will hear what they have to say, but they shall not deceive me if I can help it, as they did my predecessor, who trusted so unadvisedly to their counsel that for a long time before his death he had nothing for himself or his household to eat, unless it were obtained on trust from creditors; nor was there anything to be distributed among the poor on the day of his burial, unless it were the fifty shillings which were received from Richard the farmer, of Palgrave, which very fifty shillings the same Richard on another occasion had to pay to the King's bailiffs, who demanded the entire farm-rent for the King's use." With this saying I was comforted. His study, indeed, was to have a well-regulated house, and enough wherewith to keep his household, so managing that the usual allowance for a week, which his predecessor could not make last for five days, sufficed him for eight, nine or even ten days, if so be that he was at his manors without any extraordinary arrival of guests. Every week, indeed, he audited the expenses of the house, not by deputy, but in his own person, which his predecessor had never been wont to do.
For the first seven years he had only four courses in his house, afterwards only three, except presents and game from his parks, or fish from his ponds. And if at any time he retained any one in his house at the request of a great man, or of a particular friend, or messengers, or minstrels, or any person of that description, by taking the opportunity of going beyond sea or travelling afar off, he prudently disencumbered himself of such hangers-on.
The monks with whom the abbot had been the most intimate, and whom he liked best before he became abbot, he seldom promoted to offices merely for old acquaintance' sake, unless they were fit persons. Wherefore certain of our brethren who had been favourable to his election as abbot, said that he cared less for those who had liked him before he became abbot than was proper, and particularly that those were most favoured by him who both openly and in secret had spoken evil of him, nay, had even publicly called him, in the hearing of many, a passionate unsociable man, a proud fellow, and Norfolk barrator. But on the other hand, as after he had received the abbacy he exhibited no indiscreet partiality for his old friends, so he refrained from showing anything like hatred or dislike to many others according to their deserts, returning frequently good for evil, and doing good to them that persecuted him.
He had this way also, which I have never observed in any other man, that he had an affectionate regard for many to whom he seldom or never showed a countenance of love; according to the common proverb which says, "Where love is, there is the regard of love." And another thing I wondered at in him was, that he knowingly suffered loss in his temporal matters from his own servants, and confessed that he winked at them; but this I believe to have been the reason, that he might watch a convenient opportunity when the matter could be advisedly remedied, or that by passing over these matters without notice, he might avoid a greater loss.
He loved his kinsmen indifferently, but not less tenderly than others, for he had not, or assumed not to have, any relative within the third degree. I have heard him state that he had relations who were noble and gentle, whom he never would in any wise recognize as relations; for, as he said, they would be more a burden than an honour to him, if they should happen to find out their relationship. But he always acknowledged those as kinsmen who had treated him as such when he was a poor monk. Some of these relations (that is, those whom he found useful and suitable) he appointed to various offices in his own house, others he made keepers of manors. But those whom he found unworthy, he irrevocably dismissed from his presence.
A certain man of lowly station, who had managed his patrimony faithfully, and had served him devotedly in his youth, he looked upon as his dearest kinsman, and gave to his son, who was a clerk, the first church that fell vacant after he came to the charge of the abbey, and also advanced all the other sons of this man.
He invited to him a certain chaplain who had maintained him in the schools of Paris by the sale of holy water, and bestowed upon him an ecclesiastical benefice sufficient for his maintenance by way of vicarage. He granted to a certain servant of his predecessor food and clothing all the days of his life, he being the very man who put the fetters upon him at his lord's command when he was cast into prison. To the son of Elias, the cupbearer of Hugh the abbot, when he came to do homage for his father's land, he said, in full court, "I have for these seven years deferred taking your homage for the land which the abbot Hugh gave your father, because that gift was to the damage of the manor of Elmswell. Now I am overcome when I call to my mind what your father did for me when I was in fetters, for he sent to me a portion of the very wine whereof his lord had been drinking, and bade me be strong in God." To Master Walter, the son of Master William of Diss, suing at his grace for the vicarage of the church of Chevington, he replied, "Your father was master of the schools, and at the time when I was a poor clerk he granted me freely and in charity an entrance to his school, and the means of learning; now I, for the sake of God, do grant you what you ask."
He addressed two knights of Risby, William and Norman, at the time when they were adjudged to be in his mercy, publicly in this wise: "When I was a cloister monk, sent to Durham upon business of our church, and thence returning through Risby, being benighted, I sought a night's lodging from Norman, and I received a blank refusal; but going to the house of William, and seeking shelter, I was honourably entertained by him. Now, therefore, those twenty shillings, which are 'the mercy,' I will without mercy exact from Norman; but contrariwise, to William I give thanks, and the amerciament of twenty shillings that is due from him I do with pleasure remit."
A certain young girl, seeking her food from door to door, complained to the abbot that one of the sons of Richard, the son of Drogo, had forced her; and at length, by the suggestion of the abbot, for the sake of peace, she took one mark in satisfaction. The abbot, moreover, took from the same Richard four marks for licence to agree; but all those five marks he ordered forthwith to be given to a certain chapman, upon the condition that he should take this poor woman to wife.
In the town of St. Edmund, the abbot purchased stone houses, and assigned them for the use of the schools, so that thereby the poor clerks should be for ever free from house-rent, towards payment whereof all the scholars, whether rich or poor, were compelled twice in the year to subscribe a penny or a halfpenny.
The recovery of the manor of Mildenhall for one thousand and one hundred marks of silver, and the expulsion of the Jews from the town of St. Edmund, and the founding of the new hospital at Babwell, are proofs of great virtue.
The lord abbot sought from the King letters enjoining that the Jews should be driven away from the town of St. Edmund, he stating that whatsoever is within the town of St. Edmund, or within the banlieue thereof, of right belongs to St. Edmund: therefore the Jews ought to become the men of St. Edmund, otherwise they should be expelled from the town. Licence was accordingly given that he might put them forth, saving, nevertheless, that they had all their chattels and the value of their houses and lands. And when they were expelled, and with an armed force conducted to divers towns, the abbot gave order that all those that from henceforth should harbour or entertain Jews in the town of St. Edmund should be solemnly excommunicated in every church and at every altar. Howbeit it was afterwards conceded by the King's justices that if the Jews should come to the great pleas of the abbot to demand their debts from their debtors, on such occasion they might for two days and two nights lodge within the town, and on the third day be permitted to depart freely.
The abbot offered King Richard five hundred marks for the manor of Mildenhall, stating that the manor was worthy sixty and ten pounds by the year, and for so much had been recorded in the great roll of Winchester. And when he had conceived hopes of success in his application, the matter rested till the morrow. In the meanwhile there came a certain person to the King, telling him that this manor was well worth yearly a hundred pounds. On the morrow, therefore, when the abbot urged his suit, the King said, "It is of no avail my lord abbot, what you ask me; you shall either give a thousand marks, or you shall not have the manor." And whereas the Queen Eleanor, according to the custom of the realm, ought to have one hundred marks where the King receives a thousand, she took of us a great gold cup of the value of a hundred marks, and gave us back the same cup for the soul of her lord, King Henry, who first gave the same cup to St. Edmund. On another occasion, when the treasure of our church was carried to London for the ransom of King Richard, the same Queen redeemed that cup for one hundred marks, and restored it to us, taking in return our charter from us as an evidence of our most solemn promise, that we should never again alienate that cup from our church upon any occasion whatever.
Now, when all this money, which was got together with great difficulty, had been paid, the abbot held a chapter, and said he ought to have some portion of the great advantage derivable from so valuable a manor. And the convent answered that it was just, and "Let it be according to your wish." The abbot replied that he could well claim the half part as his own right, demonstrating that he had paid towards this purchase more than four hundred marks, with much inconvenience to himself. But he said that he would be content with a certain allotment of that manor called Icklingham, which was most freely granted him by the convent. When the abbot heard this, he said, "And I do accept this part of the land to my own use, but not that I intend to keep the same in my own hand, or that I shall give it to my relations, but for the good of my soul and for all your souls in common, I give the same to the new hospital at Babwell, for the relief of the poor, and the maintenance of hospitality." As he said, so it was done, and afterwards confirmed by the King's Charter.
These and all other like things worthy to be written down and lauded for ever did the abbot Samson. But he said he had done nothing, unless he could have our church dedicated in his lifetime; which done, he said he wished to die. For the solemnization of this act, he said he was ready to pay two thousand marks of silver, so that the King should be present, and the affair be completed with the reverence it demanded.
The abbot was informed that the church of Woolpit was vacant, Walter of Coutances being chosen to the bishopric of Lincoln. He presently convened the prior and great part of the convent, and taking up his story thus began: "You well know what trouble I had in respect of the church of Woolpit; and in order that it should be obtained for your exclusive use I journeyed to Rome at your instance, in the time of the schism between Pope Alexander and Octavian. I passed through Italy at that time when all clerks bearing letters of our lord the Pope Alexander were taken. Some were imprisoned, some hanged, and some, with nose and lips cut off, sent forward to the pope, to his shame and confusion. I, however, pretended to be Scotch; and putting on the garb of a Scotchman, and the gesture of one, I often brandished my staff, in the way they use that weapon called a gaveloc, at those who mocked me, using threatening language, after the manner of the Scotch. To those that met and questioned me as to who I was, I answered nothing, but, 'Ride ride Rome, turne Cantwereberei.' This did I to conceal myself and my errand, and that I should get to Rome safer in the guise of a Scotchman.
"Having obtained letters from the pope, even as I wished, on my return I passed by a certain castle, as my way led me from the city; and behold the officers thereof came about me, laying hold upon me, and saying, 'This vagabond who makes himself out to be a Scotchman is either a spy or bears letters from the false pope Alexander.' And while they examined my ragged clothes, and my boots, and my breeches, and even the old shoes which I carried over my shoulders, after the fashion of the Scotch, I thrust my hand into the little wallet which I carried, wherein was contained the letter of our lord the pope, placed under a little cup I had for drinking. The Lord God and St. Edmund so permitting, I drew out both the letter and the cup together, so that extending my arm aloft, I held the letter underneath the cup. They could see the cup plain enough, but they did not see the letter; and so I got clear out of their hands, in the name of the Lord. Whatever money I had about me they took away; therefore I had to beg from door to door, without any payment, until I arrived in England.
"But hearing that this church had been given to Geoffrey Ridel, my soul was heavy, because I had laboured in vain. Coming, therefore, home, I crept under the shrine of St. Edmund, fearing lest the abbot should seize and imprison me, although I deserved no punishment; nor was there a monk who durst speak to me, or a layman who durst bring me food except by stealth. At last, upon consideration, the abbot sent me to Acre in exile, and there I remained a long time.
"These and innumerable other things have I endured on account of this church of Woolpit, but, blessed be God, who works all things together, behold! this very church, for which I have borne so many sufferings is given into my hand, and now I have the power of presenting it to whomsoever I will, because it is vacant. And now I restore it to the convent, and I assign to its exclusive use, the ancient custom or pension of ten marks, which you have lost for upwards of sixty years. I had much rather have given it to you entire, could I have done so; but I know that the Bishop of Norwich might gainsay this; or even if he did grant it, he would make it an occasion to claim to himself such subjection and obedience from you as it is not advisable or expedient you should acknowledge. Therefore let us do that which by law we may; that is, put a clerk in as vicar, who shall account to the bishop for the spiritualities, and to yourselves for ten marks. I propose, if you all agree, that this vicarage be given to some kinsman of Roger de Hengham, a monk, and one of your brethren who was joined with me in that expedition to Rome, and was exposed to the same perils as myself, and in respect of the very same matter."
This said, we all rose and gave thanks; and Hugh, a clerk, brother of the said Roger, was nominated to the aforesaid church, saving to us our pension of ten marks.
CHAPTER VII
the abbot as peer of parliament
IN that manor of the monks of Canterbury which is called Eleigh, and is within the hundred of the abbot, a case of homicide occurred; but the men of the archbishop would not permit that those manslayers should stand their trial in the court of St. Edmund. Thereupon the abbot made his plaint to King Henry, stating that Baldwin the archbishop was claiming for himself the liberties of our church, under authority of a new charter, which the King had given to the church of Canterbury after the death of St. Thomas. The King hereupon made answer, that he had never made any grant in derogation of the rights of our church, nor did he wish to take away from St. Edmund anything that had ever belonged to him.
On this intelligence, the abbot said to his most intimate advisers, "It is the better counsel that the archbishop should have to complain of me than I of the archbishop. I will put myself in seisin of this liberty, and afterwards will defend myself thereupon by the help of St. Edmund, whose right our charters testify it to be." Therefore suddenly and at daybreak, by the assistance of Robert of Cockfield, there were dispatched about fourscore men to the town of Eleigh, who took by surprise those three manslayers, and led them bound to St. Edmund, and cast them into the body of the gaol there.
Now, the archbishop complaining of this, Ranulf de Glanville, the justiciary, commanded that those men be put by gage and pledges to stand their trial in that court wherein they ought to stand trial; and the abbot was summoned to come before the King's court to answer touching the violence and injury which he was said to have done to the archbishop. The abbot thereupon offered himself several times without any essoin.
At length, upon Ash Wednesday, they stood before the King in the chapter house of Canterbury, and the charters of the King on one side and the other were read in court. And our lord the King said: "These charters are of the same age, and emanate from the same King, Edward. I know not what I can say, unless it be that these charters contradict each other." To whom the abbot said: "Whatever observations may apply to the charters, we are seised, and hitherto have been; and of this I am willing to put myself upon the verdict of the two counties of Norfolk and Suffolk, if they do allow this to be the case."
But Archbishop Baldwin, having first conferred with his advisers, said that the men of Norfolk and Suffolk greatly loved St. Edmund, and that great part of those counties was under the control of the abbot, and therefore he was unwilling to stand by their decision. The King at this waxed wroth, and in indignation got up, and in departing said, "He that is able to receive it, let him receive it." And so the matter was put off, and the case is yet undecided.
However, I observed that some of the men of the monks of Canterbury were wounded even to death by the country folk of the town of Milden, which is situate in the hundred of St. Edmund; and because they knew that the prosecutor ought to make suit to the jurisdiction wherein the culprit is, they chose to be silent and to put up with it, rather than make complaint thereupon to the abbot or his bailiffs, because in no wise would they come into the court of St. Edmund to plead there.
After this the men of Eleigh set up a certain cucking-stool, whereat justice was to be done in respect of deceits in the measuring of bread or corn; whereof the abbot complained to the Lord Bishop of Ely, then justiciary and chancellor. But he was anything but desirous to hear the abbot, because it was said that he was smelling after the archbishopric, which at that time was vacant. Some time afterwards, when he had come on a visitation, being entertained as legate, before he departed he made a speech at the shrine of the holy martyr. The abbot, seizing the opportunity, said to all present, "My lord bishop, the liberty which the monks of Canterbury claim for themselves is the right of St. Edmund, whose body is here present; and because you do not choose to render me assistance to protect the privileges of his church, I place that plaint between him and you. Let him from henceforth get justice done to himself." The chancellor deigned not to answer a single word; but within a year from that time was driven from England, and experienced divine vengeance.
Now when the same chancellor, on his return from Germany, had arrived at Ipswich, and rested the night at Hitcham, news was brought that he wished to take St. Edmund in his way, and would hear mass with us on the morrow. The abbot, therefore, gave strict injunctions that the offices of the church should not be celebrated so long as the chancellor was present in the church; for he said he had heard at London that the Bishop of London had pronounced in the presence of six bishops that the Chancellor was excommunicate, and had left England excommunicate, particularly for the violence he committed upon the Archbishop of York at Dover.
Therefore when the chancellor came to us on the morrow, he found no one, neither clerk nor monk, who would sing a mass. Indeed, not only the priest standing at the first mass, and beginning the canon of the mass, but the other priests standing before the altars, ceased, remaining with unmoved lips until a messenger came, saying that he had departed from the church. The chancellor put up with it at the time, but did many injuries to the abbot, until at length, by the intervention of friends, both parties returned to the kiss of peace.
When King Henry had taken the Cross, and had come to us within a month afterwards to pay his devotions, the abbot privily made for himself a cross of linen cloth, and holding in one hand the cross and a needle and thread, he requested licence from the King to take upon himself the cross. But this privilege was denied him, upon the suggestion of John, Bishop of Norwich, who said that it was not expedient for the country, or indeed safe for the counties of Norfolk and Suffolk, that the Bishop of Norwich and the Abbot of St. Edmund should be both away at the same time.
When the news came to London of the capture of King Richard and his imprisonment in Germany, and the barons met to take counsel thereupon, the abbot started up before them all, saying that he was quite ready to seek his lord the King, either in disguise or any other way, until he had discovered where he was, and had gained certain intelligence of him; by reason whereof he obtained great approbation.
When the chancellor, the Bishop of Ely, filled the office of legate, and in that capacity was holding a council at London, he proposed certain decrees against the black monks, taking notice of their wandering to St. Thomas and St. Edmund, on the excuse of pilgrimage, and inveighed against abbots, restricting them in the number of their horses. Abbot Samson replied, "We do not admit any decree against that rule of St. Benedict which allows the abbots the free and absolute government of their monks. I keep the barony of St. Edmund and his kingdom; nor are thirteen horses sufficient for me as they may be for some abbots, unless I have more to enable me to execute the King's justice."
Whilst there was war throughout England, during the captivity of King Richard, the abbot, with his whole convent, solemnly excommunicated all movers of the war and disturbers of the public peace, not fearing the Earl John, the King's brother, nor any other, so that he was styled the "stout-hearted abbot." After this he went to the siege of Windsor, where he appeared in armour with certain other abbots of England, having his own standard, and retaining many knights at heavy charges, being more remarkable there for his counsel than for his piety. But we cloister folk thought this act rather perilous, fearing lest in consequence some future abbot might be compelled to attend in person upon any warlike expedition. On the conclusion of a truce he went into Germany, and there visited the King with many gifts.
After the return of King Richard to England, licence was granted for holding tournaments; for which purpose many knights met between Thetford and St. Edmund. The abbot forbade them; but they, resisting, fulfilled their desire. On another occasion there came twenty-four young men with their followers, sons of noblemen, to have their revenge at the aforesaid place; which being done, they returned into the town to put up there. The abbot hearing of this, ordered the gates to be locked, and all of them to be kept within. The next day was the vigil of Peter and Paul the apostles. Therefore, having passed their word and promising that they would not go forth without permission, they all dined with the abbot on that day. After dinner, when the abbot retired to his chamber, they all arose and began to carol and sing, sending into the town for wine, drinking and then shouting, depriving the abbot and convent of their sleep, and doing everything in scorn of the abbot. They spent the day until the evening in this manner; and refused to desist, even when the abbot commanded them. But when evening was come, they broke open the gates of the town and went forth by force. The abbot, indeed, solemnly excommunicated all of them, yet not without first consulting Archbishop Hubert, at that time justiciary; and many of them came, promising amendment and seeking absolution.
The abbot often sent his messengers to Rome, by no means empty-handed. The first he sent, immediately after he was consecrated, obtained in general terms all the liberties and privileges which had been granted of yore to his predecessors, even in the time of the schism. Next he obtained, first among the abbots of England, that he might be able to give episcopal benediction solemnly, wheresoever he might happen to be, and this he obtained for himself and for his successors. Afterwards he obtained a general exemption for himself and his successors, from all Archbishops of Canterbury, which Abbot Hugh had only acquired for himself personally. In these confirmations Abbot Samson caused to be inserted many new privileges for the greater liberty and security of our church.
There once came a certain clerk to the abbot, bearing letters of request for procuring a benefice. And the abbot, drawing forth from his desk seven apostolic writings, with the leaden seals hanging to them, made answer: "Look at these apostolic writings, whereby divers popes require that certain benefices should be given to divers clerks. When I shall have quieted those who have come before you, I will give you your rent; for he who first cometh to the mill ought first to have his grist."
There was a general court summoned for the hundred of Risbridge, to hear the plaint and trial of the Earl of Clare, at Witham. He, indeed, accompanied by many barons and knights, including the Earl Alberic and many others, stated that his bailiffs had given him to understand that they were accustomed to receive yearly for his use five shillings from the hundred and the bailiffs of the hundred, and that this was now unjustly detained; and he alleged that the land of Alfric, the son of Withgar, who had in ancient time been lord of that hundred, had been granted to his predecessors at the conquest of England. But the abbot, taking thought for his own interest, without stirring from his place, answered, "It is a strange thing, my lord earl; your case fails you. King Edward the Confessor gave, and by his charter confirmed, to St. Edmund, this entire hundred; and of those five shillings there is no mention made therein. You must tell us for what service, or for what reason, you demand those five shillings." And the earl, after advising with his attendants, replied that it was his office to carry the standard of St. Edmund in battle, and for that cause the five shillings were due to him. The abbot answered, "Of a truth it seems a mean thing that such a man as the Earl of Clare, should receive such a petty gift for such a service. To the Abbot of St. Edmund, it is but a slight grievance to give five shillings. The Earl Roger Bigot holds himself as seised, and asserts that he is seised, of the office of bearing the standard of St. Edmund; indeed, he actually did bear it when the earl of Leicester was taken and the Flemings destroyed. Thomas of Mendham also claims this as his right. When, therefore, you shall have proved against these your right, I will with great pleasure pay you the five shillings you now seek to recover of me." The earl upon this said that he would talk the matter over with the Earl Roger, his kinsman, and so the matter was put off even to this day.
On the death of Robert of Cockfield, there came Adam, his son, and with him many of his relations, the Earl Roger Bigot, and many other great men, and made suit to the abbot for the tenements of the aforesaid Adam, and especially for the half hundred of Cosford, to be held by the annual payment of one hundred shillings, just as if it had been his hereditary right; indeed, they all said that his father and his grandfather had held it for fourscore years past and more.
When the abbot got an opportunity of speaking, putting his two fingers up to his two eyes, he said, "May I be deprived of these eyes on that day, nay, in that hour, wherein I grant to any one a hundred to be held in hereditary right, unless indeed the King, who is able to take away from me the abbey and my life with it, should force me to do so."
Explaining to them the reason of that saying, he averred, "If any one were to hold a hundred as an inheritance, and he should make forfeit to the King in any wise, so that he ought to lose his inheritance, forthwith will the Sheriff of Suffolk and the King's bailiffs have seisin of the hundred, and exercise their own power within our liberties; and if they should have the ward of the hundred, the liberty of the eight hundreds and a half will be endangered."
And then addressing himself to Adam, he said, "If you, who claim an inheritance in this hundred, should take to wife any free woman who should hold but one acre of land of the King in chief; the King, after your death, would possess himself of all that your tenement, together with the wardship of your son, if he be under age; and thus the King's bailiffs would enter upon the hundred of St. Edmund, to the prejudice of the abbot. Besides all this, your father acknowledged to me that he claimed nothing by right of inheritance in the hundred; but because his service was satisfactory to me, I permitted him to hold it all the days of his life, according as he deserved of me."
Upon the abbot saying thus much, money was offered; but he could not be persuaded by words or money. At last it was settled between them thus: Adam disclaimed the right which he had by word of mouth claimed in the hundred, and the abbot confirmed to him all his other lands; but touching our town of Cockfield, no mention was made of that, nor indeed is it believed that he had a charter thereof; Semer and Groton he was to hold for the term of his life.
Herbert the dean erected a windmill upon Haberdon. When the abbot heard of this, his anger was so kindled that he would scarcely eat or utter a single word. On the morrow, after hearing mass, he commanded the sacrist, that without delay he should send his carpenters thither and overturn it altogether, and carefully put by the wooden materials in safe keeping.
The dean, hearing this, came to him saying that he was able in law to do this upon his own frank fee, and that the benefit of the wind ought not to be denied to any one. He further said that he only wanted to grind his own corn there, and nobody else's, lest it should be imagined that he did this to the damage of the neighbouring mills. The abbot, his anger not yet appeased, answered, "I give you as many thanks as if you had cut off both my feet; by the mouth of God I will not eat bread until that building be plucked down. You are an old man, and you should have known that it is not lawful even for the King or his justiciary to alter or appoint a single thing within the banlieue, without the permission of the abbot and convent; and why have you presumed to do such a thing? Nor is this without prejudice to my mills, as you assert, because the burgesses will run to you and grind their corn at their pleasure, nor can I by law turn them away, because they are freemen. Nor would I endure that the mill of our cellarer, lately set up, should stand, except that it was erected before I was abbot. Begone," he said, "begone; before you have come to your house, you shall hear what has befallen your mill."
But the dean being afraid before the face of the abbot, by the counsel of his son, Master Stephen, forestalled the servants of the sacrist, and without delay caused that very mill which had been erected by his own servants to be overthrown. So that when the servants of the sacrist came thither, they found nothing to be pulled down.
The abbot was sued in respect of the advowson of certain churches, and gained the case. Certain others he also retained, although his right thereto was challenged, viz., the church of Westley, of Meringthorp, of Brettenham, of Wendling, of Pakenham, of Nowton, of Bradfield in Norfolk, the moiety of the church of Boxford, the church of Scaldwell, and the church of Endgate. All these, although the right was challenged by others, he retained, and he restored to his own right of patronage three portions of the church of Dickleburgh, and brought back the tenements belonging to those shares to the frank fee of the church, saving the service which was due therefrom to the manor of Tivetshall. But the church of Boxford being void, when an inquest was summoned thereupon, there came five knights tempting the abbot, and inquiring what it was they ought to swear.
The abbot would neither give nor promise to them anything, but said, "When the oath shall be administered, declare the right according to your consciences." They, indeed, being discontented, departed, and by their inquest took away from him the advowson of that church, namely, the last presentation. Nevertheless, he ultimately recovered it after many charges, and for a fine of ten marks.
The abbot also retained the church of Honington. This had not become vacant, but the right was challenged in the time of Durand of Hostesley, although he produced as evidence of his right the charter of William, Bishop of Norwich, wherein it was specified that Robert of Valognes, his father-in-law, had given that church to Ernald Lovell.
The moiety of the church of Hopton being void, a controversy arose thereupon between the abbot and Robert of Elm; and a day of hearing being appointed at Hopton, after much altercation, the abbot being guided by I know not what sudden impulse, said to the aforesaid Robert, "Do you but swear that this is your right, and I will allow that it shall be so." And since that knight refused to swear, it was by the consent of each party, referred to the oath of sixteen lawful men of the hundred, who swore that this belonged to the abbot as his right. Gilbert Fitz-Ralph and Robert of Cockfield, lords of that fee, were there present and consenting thereto.
Thereupon, Master Jordan de Ros, who had the charter of abbot Hugh, as well as the charter of the aforesaid Robert, starting forward, urged that whichever of them succeeded in proving his claim to the church, he (Jordan) might hold the parsonage, that he was parson of the whole church, and that the clerk last deceased had been his vicar, rendering him a yearly payment for that moiety. In proof thereof he produced the charter of Walchelin the archdeacon.
The abbot, greatly moved and angry with him, never received him in a friendly manner, until the said Jordan, in a chapter of the monks at Thetford, at the abbot's instance, resigned into the hands of the bishop there present that very moiety, without any reservation or expectation of afterwards recovering the same, before a great multitude of clerks. This done, the abbot said, "My lord bishop, I am engaged by promise to bestow the rent upon some one your clerk; and I now give this moiety of this church to whomsoever of your clerks you will." Then the bishop requested that in a friendly manner it should be given to the same Master Jordan; and so upon the presentation of the abbot, Jordan got it back again.
Afterwards a controversy arose between the abbot and the same Jordan, touching the land of Herard in Harlow, whether it were the frank fee of the church or not. And when there was summoned a jury of twelve knights to make inquest in the king's court, the inquest was taken in the court of the abbot at Harlow, by the licence of Ranulf de Glanville, and the recognitors swore that they never knew that land at any time to have been separated from the church, but nevertheless that land owed such service to the abbot as that to which the land of Eustace, and certain other lands of laymen in the same town were subject. At length it was agreed between them thus: Master Jordan in full court acknowledged that land to be lay fee, and that he claimed nothing therein, unless by the abbot's grace. He will therefore hold that land all the days of his life, rendering yearly to the abbot twelve pence for all services.
Since, according to the custom of the English, many persons gave many presents to the abbot, as being their head, upon the day of the Circumcision of our Lord, I, Jocelin, thought to myself, What can I give? And I began to reduce into writing all those churches which are in the gift of the abbot, as well of our manors as of his, and the reasonable values of the same, upon the same principle that they could be fairly set to farm, at a time when corn is at its ordinary standard price. And, therefore, upon the commencement of a new year, I gave to the abbot that schedule, as a gift to him, which he received very gratefully.
I, indeed, because I then was pleasing in his sight, thought in my heart, that I should hint to him that some one church should be given to the convent, and assigned for the purposes of hospitality, just as he had wished when he was a poor cloister monk: for this same thing he himself had, before his election, suggested the brethren should swear, that upon whomsoever the lot should fall, that man should do it. But while I thought upon these things, I remembered that some one previously had said the very same thing, and that I had heard the abbot reply, that he could not dismember the barony; in other words, that he ought not to diminish the liberty and dignity which abbot Hugh and others his predecessors had had, of giving away churches, which after all scarcely brought any gain or profit to the convent. On considering this, I held my peace.
The writing I have alluded to was the following:—
"These are the churches of the manors and socages of the Abbot: The church of Melford is worth forty pounds; Chevington, ten marks; Saxham, twelve marks; Hargrave, five marks; Brettenham, five marks; Boxford, one hundred shillings; Fornham Magna, one hundred shillings; Stow, one hundred shillings; Honington, five marks; Elmswell, three marks; Cotton, twelve marks; Brocford, five marks; Palgrave, ten marks; Great Horningsherth, five marks; Kingston, four marks; Harlow, nineteen marks; Stapleford, three marks; Tivetshall, one hundred shillings; Worlingworth cum Bedingfield, twenty marks; Soham, six marks; the moiety of the church of Wortham, one hundred shillings; Rungton, twenty marks; Thorp, six marks; Woolpit, over and above the pension, one hundred shillings; Rushbrook, five marks; the moiety of the church of Hopton, sixty shillings; Rickinghall, six marks; three parts of the church of Dickleburgh, each part being worth thirty shillings and upwards; the moiety of the church of Gislingham, four marks; Icklingham, six marks. Concerning the church of Mildenhall, which is worth forty marks, and of the moiety of the church of Wetherden, what shall I say? Wendling, one hundred shillings; the church of Len, ten marks; the church of Scaldwell, five marks; the church of Warkton ...
"These are the churches of the manors belonging to the Convent: Mildenhall, Barton, and Horningsherth, twenty-five marks, besides the pension; Rougham, fifteen marks, besides the pension; Bradfield, five marks; Pakenham, thirty marks; Southrey, one hundred shillings; Risby, twenty marks; Nowton, four marks; Whepstead, fourteen marks; Fornham St. Genevieve, fifteen marks; Herringswell, nine marks; Fornham St. Martin, three marks; Ingham, ten marks; Lackford, one hundred shillings; Elveden, ten marks; Cockfield, twenty marks; Semer-Semer, twelve marks; Groton, five marks; the moiety of the church of Fressingfield, fourteen marks; Beccles, twenty marks; Broc, fifteen marks; Hinderclay, ten marks; Warkton, ten marks; Scaldwell, five marks; Westley, five marks; the church in Norwich, two marks, over and above the payment of herrings; and two churches in Colchester, three marks, over and above the pension of four shillings; Chelsworth, one hundred shillings; Meringthorp, four marks; the moiety of the church of Bradfield in Norfolk, three marks; staffacres and fouracres, and the third part of the tithes of the lordships of Wrabness, six marks."
The two counties of Norfolk and Suffolk were put in the "mercy" of the King by the justices in eyre for some default, and fifty marks were put upon Norfolk, and thirty upon Suffolk. And when a certain portion of that common amerciament was assessed upon the lands of St. Edmund, and was sharply demanded, the abbot, without any delay, went to our lord the King. We found him at Clarendon; and when the charter of King Edward, which discharges all the lands of St. Edmund from all gelds and scots, had been shown to him, the King commanded by his writ that six knights of the county of Norfolk and six of Suffolk should be summoned to consider before the barons of the exchequer, whether the lordships of St. Edmund ought to be quit from common amerciament. To save trouble and expense, only six knights were chosen, and these for the reason that they had lands in either county; namely, Hubert of Briseword, W. Fitz-Hervey, and William of Francheville, and three others, who went to London with us, and on behalf of the two counties gave their verdict in favour of the liberty of our church. And thereupon the justices then sitting enrolled their verdict.
The abbot Samson entered into a contest with his knights—himself against all, and all of them against him. He had stated to them that they ought to perform the service of fifty individual knights in escuages, in aids, and the like, because, as they themselves said, they held so many knights' fees. The point in dispute was, why ten of those fifty knights were to be without performing service, or by what reason or by whose authority the forty should receive the help of those ten knights. But they all answered with one voice, that such had ever been the custom, that is to say, that ten of them should assist the other forty, and that they could not thereupon—nor ought they thereupon—to answer, nor yet to implead.
When they were summoned in the King's court to answer hereupon, some, by arrangement, excused themselves from appearing, the others cunningly appeared, saying that they ought not to answer without their peers. On another occasion, those presented themselves who had first absented themselves, saying in like manner, that they ought not to answer without their peers who were joined with them in the same plaint. And when they had several times thus mocked the abbot, and had involved him in great and grievous expenses, the abbot complained of this to Hubert, the archbishop, then justiciary, who replied in open court that each knight ought to plead singly, and in respect of his own tenure, and said straight out that the abbot was clever enough and able enough to prove the rights of his church against all and every one of them. Then the earl, Roger Bigot, first of all freely confessed that, in law, he owed to his superior lord the abbot his service of three entire knights' fees, in reliefs as well as in escuages and aids; but, so far as concerned his performing castle-guard at the castle of Norwich, he said nothing.
Next came two of these knights, then three, and again more, until nearly all of them had come, and, by the earl's example, acknowledged the same service. Because such acknowledgment thereupon made in the court of St. Edmund was not sufficient in law, the abbot took all of them to London at his own charges, with the wives and women who were inherited of the lands so held, that they should make the acknowledgment in the King's court, and they all received separate charters of the concord thus made. Alberic de Vere and William of Hastings and two others were in the King's service beyond sea when this was done, and therefore the plaint concerning them was stayed. Alberic de Vere was the last who held out against the abbot; but as it was, the abbot seized and sold his cattle, wherefore it behoved him to come into court, and answer, as did his fellows. Taking advice upon it, he at length acknowledged to the abbot and St. Edmund their right.
The knights, therefore, being all defeated, a great profit would have accrued to the abbot from this victory unless he had been inclined to spare some of them; for so often as twenty shillings are charged upon a fee, there will remain twelve pounds to the abbot, and if more or less are assessed, more or less will remain over as a surplus to him, according to the strict apportionment. Also the abbot was wont, as were his predecessors, at the end of every twenty weeks to give seven shillings for the guard of the castle of Norwich out of his own purse, for default of three knights, whose fees Roger Bigot holds of St. Edmund. Each of the knights of four constabularies used to give twenty-eight pence when they entered to perform their guards, and one penny to the marshal who collected those pence; and they were accustomed to give twenty-eight pence and no more, because the ten knights of the fifth constabulary ought to assist the other forty, so that whereas they ought to have given three shillings entire, they only gave twenty-nine pence, and he whose duty it was to enter to perform his guard service at the end of four months, entered at the end of twenty weeks. But at the present time all the knights give the full three shillings, and there remains to the abbot the surplus which accrues beyond twenty-nine pence, from whence he can re-imburse himself of the aforesaid seven shillings. It is apparent what force had the words of the abbot which he spoke the first day, when he took the homage of his knights, as aforesaid, when all the knights promised him twenty shillings, and immediately revoked what they had said, refusing to give him more than forty pounds in one sum, alleging that ten knights ought to assist the other forty in aids and castle-guards, and all such like services.
There is certain land in Tivetshall of the abbot's fee, which used to pay to the watchmen of the castle of Norwich waite-fee, that is, twenty shillings per annum, payable five shillings on each of the four Ember fasts. This is an ancient customary payment which the abbot would well wish to do away with if he could, but considering his inability to do so, he has up to now held his peace and closed his eyes to it.