Part 28

Milo, Founder of Llanthony Secunda.--Under this head, it is recorded in the Abbey Chronicle, that in the reign of King Henry , son of the Conqueror, there flourished a certain warrior of noble family named Gwalterus, or Walter , who was Constable, under the King, of the Castles of Gloucester and Hereford. The said Walter caused to be erected on his own demesne the Castle of Gloucester, and dying some time thereafter, his remains were conveyed to Llanthony Abbey , in Wales, and there buried. The aforesaid Walter left an only son, Milo by name, whom King Henry created Earl of Hereford ; and moreover, by way of augmentation to the said earldom, made over to him and his heirs for ever a grant of the whole Forest of Dean .

This Milo , first earl of the name, took to wife Sibylla, heiress of Brecknock , and daughter of Bernard and Agnes of New March.[329]--The offspring of this marriage were five sons and three daughters, namely, Roger, Henry, Walter, Matthew, and William, Margery, Bertha, and Lucy. He founded the Abbey or Priory of New Llanthony, near Gloucester, on the 25th of May, 1136, being the first of King Stephen’s reign; and dying on Christmas-eve, 1143, was buried in the chancel of the Abbey which he had founded seven years before. After his demise, he was succeeded in his titles and estates by each of his five sons, one after the other; but all of whom died without legitimate issue. Hereupon his possessions were shared in equal proportions by his three surviving daughters.[330] Lucy , his third daughter, was married to Herbert Fitz-Herbert , and had for her share and dowry the Forest of Dean, and other estates in England.[331] The offspring of this marriage was a son named Peter , who became the father of a long line of descendants.

Bertha, second daughter of Count Milo, married William de Brewes , and took for dowry the lordship of Brecknock. The offspring from this marriage were three sons, William , Egidius , and Reginald . William, their eldest son and heir, in the time of King John, having made war upon his enemy Guenhunewyn, subdued him, and slew no less than three thousand Welsh in one day at Elvel . This battle took place on the morrow of St. Lawrence the Martyr, in the year of our Lord 1498. But for this rebellious act he was disinherited by King John ; and, without trial, condemned to quit the realm of England. He died in exile; while his unhappy wife and their only son, being thrown into prison by the same heartless and arbitrary power, died shortly after in captivity.

Egidius , the second son, became Bishop of Hereford; and Reginald de Brewes, the third son, after the death of King John , and that of his two brothers the afore-named William and Egidius, was pronounced heir to all the possessions which had been forfeited by his brother William, and took possession of the same accordingly. He married a daughter of William de la Bruere , and had by his wife a son whom he named William de Brewes, _quartus_. The latter espoused the lady Eve, daughter of the renowned William, Earl Marshall, so frequently mentioned in these pages.[332] By this union he had issue four daughters--Isabella, Matilda, Eve, and Alionora. Of these, Isabella was married to David, son of Llewellyn , Prince of Wales.

But at a great festival where he presided, immediately after the Paschal Feast, in 1229, Llewellyn conceiving a bitter jealousy between his wife and the said William de Brewes, most treacherously caused the latter to be ignominiously hanged--an atrocity which threw the whole Welsh frontier into the greatest confusion and alarm; for at that time King Henry was still in France with a large army; and in his absence the country was but ill provided with the means of enforcing the law.

Matilda , the second daughter, married Roger Mortimer , Lord Wigmore, from whom sprang a numerous progeny. Eve , the third daughter, married William de Cartello . Alionora , the fourth and youngest, married Humphrey de Bohun , with the lordship of Brecknock, which for some time had belonged to the Counts or Earls of Hereford. Among the names here mentioned, those of Bertha and Lucy, daughters of Milo , are to be held in special reverence as eminent patrons and benefactors of New Llanthony .

And here, for the present, we take leave of the genealogical table, which exhibits in many striking examples the instability of fortune, the frailty of human nature, the vanity of riches, and the uncertain tenure of life.

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But in spite of its revenues, and the ‘personal example and influence of a few--but only a few--distinguished members and benefactors of this monastery, it fell gradually into disrepute and decay.’ The principal cause has been generally ascribed to the rival Abbey at Gloucester, by which benefactors were alienated, and good works averted from that on the Honddy. But there were other causes at work--the evil lives of the Priors themselves; their indolence, luxury, and licentiousness; their dissipating the funds, and perverting their use to unsanctified purposes; which did more to degrade monastic habits, and pull down the sacred edifice, than could have been accomplished by their most inveterate enemies. And enemies they certainly had--both formidable and frequent; for they were exposed, by their insulated position and supposed wealth, to irruptions from those bands of marauders, to whom plunder and forced contribution from holy men were more like a pastime than military enterprise. But of this hereafter.

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From this date the Abbey of Old Llanthony, which had been grievously interrupted in its religious duties, and damaged by its own internal misgovernment, the reckless lives of its inmates, and the frequent imposts and exactions to which it was subjected by the rebels and marauders above alluded to, was suffered to fall into decay and disrepute. Its resources, in obedience to the above decree, were drawn off from their legitimate channel, and employed to augment the revenues and foster the pride of its undutiful and “rival Daughter” on the banks of the Severn. Thus--as the old historian has pathetically observed--“Filii Matris meæ pugnaverunt contra me; nam leviùs communia tangunt, sed quodammodo specialiori et tanto atrociori flere, clamando, Filii uteri mei pugnaverunt contra me, quia--

Non sua sunt summa leviter perstricta sagitta Pectora, descendit vulnus ad ossa suum.”

Yet, after the lapse of centuries, the Abbey of Old Llanthony presents an imposing aspect. In that solitude, over which it was erected for the diffusion of spiritual life and light, it is still an object of venerable grandeur; while of the luxurious temple of “her Daughter,” built on one of the most fertile spots in the kingdom, elaborately ornamented and munificently endowed, the remains are few and insignificant. Thus, if the old monastic fathers could burst their cerements and look around them, they would perceive that Time, the avenger, has drawn a line of as marked distinction between the two monasteries, as between a greater and a lesser criminal; and, by a just and discriminating sentence, consigned one to the plough, and the other to pilgrims and archæologists.[336]

The wrongs, of which the older monks of Llanthony so justly complained, are thus told by their own pious chronicler:--When the storm subsided, and peace was restored, then did the sons of Llanthony tear up the bounds of their Mother-Church, and refuse to serve God, as their duty required, in the old Sanctuary. For great is the difference, said they, between the rich city of Gloucester, and the wild rocks of the Hatterill--between the fertile vale of Severn, and the craggy banks of the Honddy; between the wealth and civilization of England, and the barren hills and beggarly natives of Wales; between a land of smiling meadows and fertile orchards, and a region of trackless mountains and roaring cataracts; in fine--to justify their desertion--between a home amongst smiling gardens, and a grave in the howling wilderness!

Some of the renegade brethren declared that they wished every stone of the old foundation were a fleet hare and the hounds after it, that not a vestige might be left. Alas, says the ‘Jeremiad,’ they of Gloucester have usurped and lavished all the revenues of the Mother-Church: for their new abode, they have built stately offices; and the old they have left to moulder into ruins. But to avoid the open scandal of deserting their Mother, they send hither, as to a dependent cell, their old and decrepit members to be cherished in that very bosom--fostered in those very arms--which they have insulted by ingratitude, and weakened by wrong and robbery. So great was the poverty to which the few inmates were reduced, that they were actually without surplices, and at times so destitute of raiment that they could not with proper decency appear at divine service. Sometimes the allowance of bread for one day had to serve for two; whilst in the offshoot at Gloucester there was not only enough, but abundance and superfluity. When entreated to return to their Mother, these heartless brethren, who had tasted the sweets of a new residence, and been corrupted by unwonted luxury, only derided their appeal. “What!” they replied, “would you have us return to sing _Miserere_ to the wolves? Do the whelps of wolves delight in choral harmony?” And when any one was sent to Old Llanthony, whether for health or discipline, they would exclaim--“Why, what has he done? what fault has he committed? what law has he broken, that he should be sent into banishment, shut up in such a prison?”--for it was thus that they spoke of the Mother-abbey--calling it a dungeon, a prison-house, fit only for the punishment of great criminals.

In like manner, says the monk, the library was despoiled of its books and MSS.; the record-room of its deeds and charters; the silk vestments and relics, embroidered with gold and silver, were carried away from the vestiary; the treasury was stripped of everything valuable. Whatever was precious or ornamental--even the bells, notwithstanding their great weight, were carried off to the rival abbey without the slightest resistance or redress. It was under these distressing circumstances that King Edward set about effecting the union to which we have adverted.

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But there were other causes at work. It is very apparent that the religious peace and contemplation to which it was consecrated, were but rare guests in the old Abbey of Llanthony. Situated on the very border of countries that were mutually engaged in making or repelling aggressions, the sanctity of the place was often invaded by those who returned across the marches from some lawless foray, or by others who entered the Welsh frontiers to make reprisals. The calm serenity which, for a brief season, reigned within and around the sanctuary, was disturbed by continual apprehensions of violence or extortion. The ministering priest was often interrupted in his sacred office by the shouts of armed men. The stranger who had come in pilgrim weeds, confessed, and done penance, was too often found on departure to be a traitor, ready to conduct the next troop of marauders to the gate, and extort fresh contributions from the already impoverished brotherhood.

It is also alleged, with plausibility, that from the Cambrian people--who hated the place because its founders, benefactors, priors, and brotherhood, were aliens by birth, nation, and language--the abbey had no very cordial protection or support. During the long border struggles that preceded and followed its “foundation in the wilderness,” it was the mark of every invading or retreating foe. Instead of Matins and Vespers, and the meditations of holy men, the Vale of Ewias was often the retreat or the rallying point of adventurers, whose Parthian-like movements rendered them equally dangerous in the charge and the retreat. The sanctity and seclusion of the place once disturbed, the spell was broken; outrages were repeated and multiplied with impunity by those who, having no law, were a law unto themselves; and to such extremes were these carried, that the Prior and Canons--habituated as they were, by the rule of their Order, to fasting, and at best to a coarse and scanty fare--were often reduced to the verge of famine.

In one of the numerous expeditions by which the spirit of retaliation was kept up, and by which the religious houses were harassed and plundered, a soldier of the English army writes--“We lie here watching, praying, fasting, and freezing! We _watch_ in dread of the Welsh, who beat up our quarters every night; we _pray_ for a safe passage homeward; we _fast_, for hardly have we any food, the halfpenny loaf being raised to fivepence; and we _freeze_ for want of clothing, having only a linen tent to keep out the cold!”

If such was the penance done by an officer of the “victorious army,” great must have been the sufferings endured by those who had to supply the “loaf,” as the monks of Llanthony had to do, either in substance or in coin.

While the Abbey was yet faintly struggling to recover a healthy activity in its affairs, its temporal revenues, and spiritual offices, so great a dearth occurred all over Wales, that the Bishop of St. David’s is said to have died of grief; the Bishop of Llandaff to have been stricken blind; while the Bishops of Bangor and St. Asaph, on their sees being rendered utterly destitute, were reduced to the necessity of supplicating alms. The bondage and destitution of the Welsh at this period--the evils of want and war--are thus expressed by an old writer:--“The harp of the churchman is changed into sorrow and lamentation; the glory of our proud and ancient nobility is faded away.”

It was about this time that the Bishop of Hereford, then Prior of Llanthony, the better to rescue them from a gross insult and trespass by a powerful neighbour, and accommodate their numbers to the scanty means of subsistence within the Welsh border, drew off the major part of the canons from Llanthony, and gave them an asylum in his own palace.