Part 29

[After describing, in graphic language, the distractions of the country, the robbery, violence, murder, and rapine, that were daily perpetrated in their immediate vicinity, and which threatened the very existence of the brotherhood, the flagrant desecration that immediately led to their removal to Hereford is thus recorded:--Est præterea et aliud quod animos innocentium plus omnibus hiis in fixorio angustiarum acerbiùs terrebat. Unus namque ex vicinis Wallensibus inimicorum minis et jaculis undignè impeditus, cùm nullus ei tutus ad latendum vel evadendum locus superesset, [=c] omni domo sua, ad Lanthoniam convolavit; hanc sibi constituens domum Refugii ut salvus fieret, quem inimici odio inexorabili persequentes non longè ab atrio in insidiis sedentes vigilantiùs opportunitatem observabant, quando in eum casu aliquo tandem oblatum irarum virus evomere prævalerent. Ipse verò in interiores officinas, quò securior redderetur, cum suis et ancillis, se ingessit; ità ut ubi Fratres reficere consueverant, ibi _mulieres_ choros ducere, et cætera muliebria, ignominiosè tractare non erubescerent!

Quid facient milites Christi tot hostium cuneis tarn atrociter vallati! Ecce foris pugnæ, et intus timores! Non enim possunt ab intus fratres divinis officiis, præ ingratorum hostium insolentia, consueta veneratione interesse: Luget Martha quia pascere non permittitur: dolet Maria quia sanctæ refectionis epulis privatur; et præterea nimis timet ne in infirmioribus membris suis alicujus culpæ dehonestetur.]

The result of this, after two years’ residence at Hereford, was the foundation of the new monastery at Gloucester; but which it was at first intended should be only a cell , dependent on the Mother-Church on the Honddy. But inured to this species of daily warfare--familiar with the dangers of their position, and strong in the belief that they were objects of regard in the eyes of Him who would assuredly carry them, as he did the faithful of old, through all their troubles--they are said to have left the scene of their trials and privations with reluctance; and to have declared that the gardens of Hereford, and the vineyards of Gloucester, had no attractions for them like the barren rocks of “Ewias and the Honddy:”--

And when at last these holy men, With lingering step and slow, Had wound their way along the glen Where Honddy’s [337] waters flow,

They halted--gazed--and heaved a sigh, And dropt a parting tear-- “Oh, never till this hour,” they cry, “Was Ewias’ vale so dear!

Through richer lands our feet may roam-- But long our hearts will pine, And feel they have no earthly home But Honddy’s hallowed shrine!

Oh, Blessed Mary , shield us well! And, when the storm is past, Grant we beside that hallowed cell May lay our bones at last.”

The prayer was heard--their labours o’er, Behold their nameless bier, Beneath the Chancel’s grassy floor, Where pilgrims drop the tear!

The simple daisy loves the spot, And there, the leafy June Strews many a sweet _Forget-me-not_ Beneath the dewy moon.

And hallowed--hallowed be the ground Where sleep the good and brave, Decked by the firstlings of the Spring, And soothed by Honddy’s wave! &c.

It has been already observed, that monastic establishments were not generally popular among the Cambrians. They reminded them too sensibly of the haughty domination of those Norman lords, who had parcelled out the country amongst them, and hoped to extenuate their crimes by the building and endowment of religious houses. But the memory of what was gained by force or fraud, was not to be effaced by multiplying shrines and priories--great crimes were not to be buried under abbey walls. To every free-born Cambrian, the sight of an abbey appeared like a monument of his country’s degradation and bondage, for it was difficult to separate in his mind the blessings of religion from the galling yoke of oppression; he saw that what was at first gained by force of arms, was to be retained by the yet stronger hand of spiritual despotism. The ecclesiastical power was at times more efficient in subjugating a chief, than all that a feudal baron could carry with him into the field; and when both united for the purpose of conquest, their strength was irresistible, the result certain; and the hatred of the oppressed was naturally roused against the grinding sense of a twofold oppression.

Superstition was a mighty engine. An austere old writer gives us the following instance of its working in this golden age of the Church:--“The yeare after this, Gruffyth, son to Conan ap Owen Gwyneth, a nobleman, died, and was buried in a monke’s cowle at the Abbey of Conway; and so were all the nobles, for the most part, of that time buried. For they were made to believe by the old monkes and friers, that that strange weed was a sure defence betwixt their soulis and hell, howsoever they died. And all this baggage and superstition received they with monkes and friers, a few yeares before that, _out of England_. For the _first_ abbey or frier-house that we read of in Wales, sith the destruction of the noble house of Bangor , which savered not of Romish dregges, was the Twy Gwyn, built the yeare 1146; and after that they swarmed like bees through all the countrie; for then the Cleargie had forgotten the lesson that they had receaved from the noble clerk, Ambrosius Telesinus, who, writing in the yeare 540, when the right Christian faith, which Joseph of Arimathea taught at the isle of Avalon, reigned in this land, before the proud and bloodthirsty monke Augustine infested it with the Romish doctrine, in a certaine ode hath these verses in Welsh , which may be thus Englished, almost word for word:--

“Wo be to that priest yborne, That will not cleanlie weed his corne, And preach his charge among! Wo be to that Sheepherd , I saie, That will not watch his flocke alwaie, As to his office doth belong! Wo be to him, that doth not keepe From Romish Wolves his simple sheepe, With Staffe and weapon stronge!

“And because that no man should doubt of them, I have set them down here as they were written by him that made them; whereby it may be produced that the Britaynes, the first inhabitants of this realme, did abhorre the Romish doctrine taught at that time.”[338]

Architecture. --The Abbey of Llanthony was built, like those already described, in the cathedral form--with a nave, lateral aisles, transepts, and chancel. It measures in length, from the western door to the great eastern window, two hundred and twelve feet; and the breadth of the nave, including the side aisles, is fifty feet. The style is a compound of Norman and Early English, or Gothic, of which the lancet-pointed windows in the nave are illustrations; while the Norman character is preserved in the arch between the choir and south transept, and again in the outer wall of the same transept by a double window. Of the roof, which was was of stone, nothing remains except a fragment in the north aisle; the transepts have also crumbled down; but the central tower, which connected the whole fabric, still presents a massive, though mutilated, feature of the ancient pile.

The Nave , with its six noble arches, which separates the body of the church from the north aisle, is the grand and imposing feature of the scene. To the spectator, who takes his stand at the west door, the objects present a picture of wild and melancholy grandeur. Before him rise the monuments of a religious Order, who exercised no small influence over the destinies of mankind; and, when their own were fulfilled, left behind them, in the ruins that still adorn the land, the strongest evidence--with the highest homage that art and science can offer to religion.

We do not pretend to say that the remains of Llanthony are equal in architectural beauty to those of many other religious houses in the kingdom; but as every object of this description depends--for the _effect_ it may exert over the spectator’s mind--upon the character of the scenery, and the circumstances under which it is viewed, we may safely claim for these ruins an effect much beyond what others, though more lofty, elaborate, and extensive, could ever inspire. The monastic ruins that, in more favoured districts, attract and command attention, do not, and cannot, take such hold of the imagination as the contemplation of this temple of the Desert, where everything seems in harmony with the thoughts suggested; and where the combined features of Nature and Art invest the scene with peculiar solemnity.

The nave was separated from the two aisles, north and south, by eight noble arches, supported by massive pillars on each side. But of these several have disappeared on the south, and left only their grass-covered bases to indicate their size and position. Of the great tower, only two sides remain; and on that facing the nave, may be seen the angular lines where it was joined by the stone roof to the nave. On a line with the tower on the right are seen part of the south transept, with its double Norman window opening into the interior; and at the base, externally, a lancet-shaped doorway, opening into a side chapel. On the centre of each pillar, and on a line with the upper tier of windows, or _clerestory_, are seen the remains of the springing columns, which supported the groined roof--showing, by the triple-moulded shaft, the base or impost from which the ribbed arch threw its delicate ramifications along the stone vault, and connected the walls under a magnificent canopy, adorned at every intersection of the ribs with carved bosses and rosettes; but of which scarcely a fragment is left.

The ornamented arch in the eastern window, so long the admiration of travellers, has mouldered away. But the Norman arch, already noticed, between the choir and the south aisle, is a bold and characteristic feature that points very distinctly to the twelfth century. The walls of the north aisle are wholly dilapidated; but the outside wall of the south aisle, as observed, is the most entire. Of this the windows are Norman, lofty and finely proportioned. “The western side is considered by all connoisseurs to be the most elegant; the northern, the most entire; the southern, the most picturesque; and the eastern, the most magnificent.” Taken altogether, the remains of this Abbey present a _coup d’œil_ that will bear comparison with many of far higher name. It unites the sublime and the picturesque in a more than ordinary measure, while the general effect is greatly enhanced by the natural solitude of the place.

On the south of the remaining transept is a neat Gothic chapel, with an engroined roof, in tolerable preservation. It measures twenty-two feet in length, by ten and a half in breadth; and on the south of this chapel are the remains of an oblong room, supposed to have been the Chapter-house, or more probably the Vestiary. The other offices--the Refectory, Hospitium, Dormitory, and Cloisters--may be easily traced by an experienced antiquary; but, to a common observer, their respective boundaries are indistinct. In a barn, westward of the ruins, is a fine arch, supposed to have formed the grand entrance to the Abbey. But now--

Stone after stone the hallowed temple falls, Fierce lightnings scathe, and torrents sap the walls; No mantling ivy round the ruin weaves Its verdant panoply of glittering leaves; No pious hand, with patriotic care, Props in its fall the ancient house of Prayer ; But still yon Arch, that braves the winter blast, Stands the proud chronicler of ages past.

On the architecture of this period, we may here introduce a few desultory remarks, without entering into any disquisition on the subject.

The most remarkable works of architecture,[339] as opposed to that of the feudal strongholds, are the religious edifices erected about this period, and improved during the three following centuries. These structures uniting, as in the present instance, sublimity in general composition with the beauties of variety and form--intricacy of parts--skilful, or at least fortunate, effects of light and shade--and, in some instances, with extraordinary mechanical science, are naturally apt to lead those antiquaries, who are most conversant with them, into too partial estimates of the times wherein they were founded. They certainly are accustomed to behold the fairest side of the picture. It was the favourite and most honourable employment of ecclesiastical wealth, to erect, to enlarge, to repair cathedral and conventual churches; and upon these buildings in England, between the Norman Conquest and the Reformation, an immense capital must have been expended. And it is pleasing to observe how the seeds of genius, hidden, as it were, under the frost of that dreary winter, began to bud to the first sunshine of encouragement.

In the darkest period of the middle ages, especially after the Scandinavian incursions into France and England, ecclesiastical architecture, though always far more advanced than any other art, bespoke the rudeness and poverty of the times. It began towards the latter end of the eleventh century, when tranquillity, at least as to former enemies, was restored, and some degree of learning reappeared to assume a more noble appearance.

The Anglo-Norman cathedrals were, perhaps, as much distinguished above other works of man in their own age, as the more splendid edifices of a later period. The science manifested in them, according to the authority here quoted, is not very great; and their style, though by no means destitute of lesser beauties, is, upon the whole, an awkward imitation of Roman architecture, or, perhaps, more immediately of the Saracenic buildings of Spain, and those of the lower Greek Empire.[340] But about the middle of the twelfth century, when Llanthony, Tinterne, and so many remarkable edifices sprang up, this manner began to give place to what is improperly denominated the Gothic architecture. We are not concerned at present to inquire whether this style originated in France or Germany, Italy or England, since it was almost simultaneous in all these countries; nor from what source it was derived--a question of no small difficulty. I would only venture to remark, that whatever may be thought of the pointed arch, for which there is more than one mode of accounting, we must perceive a very oriental character in the vast profusion of ornament, especially on the exterior surface, which is as distinguishing a mark of Gothic buildings as their arches; and contributes, in an eminent degree, both to their beauties and their defects. This, indeed, is rather applicable to the later than the earlier stage of architecture; and rather to Continental than English churches. The Cathedral at Amiens is in a far more florid style than its contemporary at Salisbury. The Gothic species of architecture is thought by some to have reached its perfection--considered as an object of taste--by the middle of the fourteenth century; or at least to have lost something of its excellence by the corresponding part of the next age--an effect of its early and rapid cultivation; since arts appear to have, like individuals, their natural progress and decay. Yet this seems, if true at all, only applicable to England; since the Cathedrals of Cologne and Milan--perhaps the most distinguished monuments of this architecture--are both of the fifteenth century. The mechanical execution, at least, continued to improve; and is so far beyond the apparent intellectual powers of those times, that some have ascribed the principal ecclesiastical structures to the fraternity of Freemasons--depositaries of a concealed and traditionary science. There is probably some ground for this opinion; and the earlier archives of that mysterious association, if they existed, might illustrate the progress of Gothic architecture, and perhaps reveal its origin. The remarkable change in this new style, that was almost contemporaneous in every part of Europe, cannot be explained by any local circumstances, or the capricious taste of a single nation.[341]

“The Normans,” says “William of Malmesbury, “live in large edifices with economy. They _revived_ by their arrival the observances of religion, which were everywhere grown lifeless in England. You might now see churches rise up in every village, and monasteries in the towns and cities--all built after a style previously _unknown_ in this country.” It was soon after the renovation and introduction here mentioned, that the Abbey of Llanthony --though one of the smallest and least known of its class--sprang up in the desert, as a signal to many others, on a more extended and noble scale that quickly followed, and stamped their architectural character upon the age. It was most probably finished before the middle of the twelfth century--so prolific in ecclesiastical edifices. The style is of that period--designated as the transition from late Norman to early English, where the predominant features are Gothic--characterized by the pointed arch; by pillars which are so extended as to lose all trace of classical proportions; by shafts which are placed side by side, often with different thicknesses, and are variously clustered and combined.[342]

This style is divided into three distinct periods--besides that of transition between the circular and pointed styles--which lasted through the greater part of the twelfth century, when the circular and pointed arches are frequently--as in the nave and south transept before us--used indiscriminately in the same building. The ornaments, although generally partaking of the earlier style, begin to be better executed, and more elaborate; and the general appearance of the building assumes a lighter character. The first style of Gothic in this country, The Early English , prevailed through the greater part of the twelfth century; and of this style the subject in question is one of the numerous examples that followed its introduction in every part of the kingdom. Among these the variations, in all save dimensions, are so slight and unimportant, that the description of almost any one monastic structure of that century applies to every other of the same style and period. We possess in the ruins of Llanthony a pure example of this style, unchanged by any subsequent additions or alterations; for as the Abbey became reduced both in numbers and revenues, immediately after the establishment of the Abbey at Gloucester, it shared in none of the changes introduced by the decorated style; but has continued to the present day what it was in the middle of the twelfth century. To account for the splendour of conventual churches in general, we have only to remember that personal expense or secular indulgence were highly culpable in a monk; and that whatever was expended in ornamenting the Church was glorifying GOD.

* * * * *

William of Llanthony--the warrior monk already noticed--appears to have had followers in his penance; for Peter Damian mentions a man who wore an _iron_ corslet next his skin, had iron rings around his limbs, so that he performed with pain and difficulty his _Metaneas_, or penitential inclinations, and very often dashed his hands upon the pavement. In “Strutt’s Dresses” is a female pilgrim lying on the ground, apparently to perform this penance of slapping the ground. The lady of Sir Thomas More, in reply to her husband, who counselled her to desist from scolding her servants during Lent, replied that she wore a “Monk’s girdle,” and therefore had nothing to fear.[343] The virtues of the monk’s girdle, it appears, were equivalent to those of the _cowl_, already alluded to in our notice of Tinterne.

The revenues possessed by Llanthony appear to have been very considerable at the outset; but through negligence or mismanagement--or rather by the prejudicial influence of a rival abbey--they fell off gradually, and at the dissolution were valued at a sum[344] considerably less than those of Tinterne Abbey.

When we read, in the Monastic Annals, of entire districts, towns, and villages being conveyed to monasteries, we are surprised at the boundless liberality of the founders. But when we reflect that, at the time of these princely endowments, the land, in many instances, was neither cultivated nor peopled, the question of prodigal generosity is materially altered. At the period of transition, as it may be termed, when it passed from the hands of the feudal Baron to the Abbot or Prior, the products of the consecrated territory were often nothing more than wood and pasture; nor, until it had been long subjected to the system of agriculture, so generally practised and taught by the monks, was it brought into a state fit for the sustenance of man. If we compare--so far as written documents enable us--the state of agriculture and its population, when these lands were transferred to the Abbot, with the condition they were in when taken from him, we shall see very clearly to what a vast amount they had improved under monastic management; and how much cause there was to applaud the stewardship of the venerable monks, in whose hands the physical aspect of the country underwent an entire change. Theirs were truly the arts of peace. Obliged, by the rule of their order, to plant their convents in sterile and uncultivated wilds, where intercourse with more favoured districts was neither easy nor expedient, circumstances required that they should, like the apostles and fathers of old, depend for daily bread on the labour of their hands. While some went to prayer, others went to work; and thus the blessing of heaven and the bounty of earth were believed to descend upon them, and abide with them, in those sacred habitations which had sprung up under their hands, and exercised on everything around them a mild and harmonizing influence.

This spirit of improvement, however, varied according to the different Orders of which the great monastic brotherhood was composed. To those who--in imitation of the Baptist --desired to limit their physical wants to a diet of “locusts and wild honey,” or to whatever the unaided hand of Nature might place within their reach, were content to consume their days in fasting and prayer. And observing--as he probably did--that whenever wealth and luxury had increased in religious houses, strict discipline had as certainly relaxed, the Monk of Llanthony appears to have preferred the desert to any of those “seductive landscapes” into which it might have been, in some degree, converted by means of industry and manual labour. He had also before his eyes the baneful effects produced by the luxurious indulgences of New Llanthony upon the minds of the absent brothers, whose piety, that had preserved its fervour amongst rocks and glens, became vapid and lukewarm when transplanted to the rich landscapes of the Severn. Where riches abounded, “pride and license did much more abound.” It was better to continue a poor but pious friar on the banks of the Honddy, than become a luxurious wine-bibbing canon in the Vale of Gloucester.