The Castles and Abbeys of England: From the National Records, Early … (Google Books)

The Spirituality of the Celtic Saints – Page 172 › books

Richard Woods – 2000 – ‎Snippet view – ‎More editions
(That a resolute women’s presence continued in Scotland well into the Reformation is suggested by a grave-slab carving of one of the abbesses of Iona, Anna

Among the original Ecclesiastical foundations in Arundel, was the Alien Priory, or Cell of $t. §2itbolas, already mentioned. Roger Montgomery, who had restored the Benedictine Abbey of Seez, in Normandy, granted to the 1102 o: of that establishment, liberty to erect a priory within the town * lof Arundel, and the building having been completed, five monks from the parent abbey arrived and took possession accordingly. In the early part of the same century, the priory was vacated; and the rectorial residence adjoining the church, of which William de Albini was patron, was converted into a residence for the prior and four monks. Thus occupied, it continued during two centuries to be known as the Convent or Priory of St. Nicholas. But 33 itbarū, Earl of Arundel, having resolved to connect it with the chapel of his college then about to be established, obtained from King Richard the Second a grant for that purpose, and on the site of the ancient priory arose the College of the #30lp QCrimity, a quadrangular structure, inclosing a square yard, or court, partly occupied by cloisters, and partly devoted to other purposes of a monastic establishment. On the north side was the Collegiate Chapel, forming an apparent chancel to the parochial church; on the east were the refectory and various domestic offices connected with it; and the remain£ing sides on the south and west, – # were occupied by the members of the fraternity. Within the court was the Master’s house, attached to the south-east angle of the chapel, with which it communicated by a small stone balcony on the first story, and a flight of steps, which still remain, behind the high altar. As the collegiate church was intended to be the family 5tpultort of the founder, every preparation was made to insure its monumental splendour; and the tomb of his son, Earl Qsbomas, was the first of a magnificent series. No stranger can enter this chapel without being strongly impressed with the classic beauty and elaborate sculpture of its family monuments. But during the siege already noticed, these sacred walls were given up as barracks for Waller’s


soldiers; and many of the sepulchral antiquities, with which the place was so richly adorned, were wantonly mutilated. Six monuments, however, still remain to fix the attention, and excite the admiration, of all who are lovers of the arts, or given to the study of Gothic remains. In the centre is that of Earl Thomas, son of the founder, and his Countess 36tatrix, daughter of John, King of Portugal. It is a large sculptured altar-tomb of alabaster, formerly painted and gilt, and adorned with effigies of the earl and countess, in their robes of state. A rich canopy rises behind the head; and at the feet of the earl is a horse, the Fitzalan cognizance. At the feet of the countess, two lap-dogs hold in their mouths the extremity of her mantle. Arranged in niches around the tomb, are twenty-eight priests, each with an open book in his hand; and guarding the rim is a series of forty family shields, originally emblazoned. On the south side of the bigb &ltar is a lofty sacellum, consisting of an arcade and canopy, composed of elaborate tabernacle-work, and, in its original state, richly painted and gilt.—But it would far exceed the limits of this work to convey even a general idea of these splendid memorials of departed greatness. We were glad to observe, on our late visit, that the restoration of this chapel is daily advancing, under the direction of the Duke of Norfolk; and in a few years, it is to be hoped, may recover something of its original splendour. Qsbt Courth, which forms a principal feature in the general view of the castle, is a spacious and handsome structure, consisting of a nave, two aisles, and a transept, surmounted by a low square tower, terminating in a spire, and forming a conspicuous landmark for mariners. A row of circular windows inclosing quatrefoils, in the clerestory; an ancient octagon stone font; a pulpit richly tabernacled in the same material; several monumental inscriptions, and a roof of Irish oak, proverbial for its durability, are among the so objects that deserve attention. In one of the chapel windows is the figure of a swallow on the wing, which may claim attention from the etymologist, as pointing to the oft-contested origin of the name Arundel; for history and geography, says Mr. Tierney, “the realms of fancy and romance have all been explored in order to discover its etymon. One author has amused himself with a rebus founded on the resemblance between the words Arundel and Hirondelle; and it is not improbable that the migratory bird here introduced may have been selected as an appropriate emblem for the chapel window. The conjecture is, at least, as plausible as another that has been advanced; namely, that Arundel is derived from Hirondellet, the name of Bevis’s horse.”

Monasticon Anglicanum…a History of the Abbies and Other Monasteries…and … (Google Books)


Here, says Tanner, was a Monastery of some note, in the early Saxon times,* but ruined in the devastation made hereabout by the Danes, A. D. 870.


Here St. Felix, first bishop of the East Angles, is said to have founded a Monastery about the year 630, in which he placed the Episcopal See, which was afterwards removed to Dunwich.b

Bishop Tanner calls this ” A small Priory near Up-

well.” In a note, he says, ” I cannot give any account either of the foundation or valuation of this Priory; and yet it was in being 20 Hen.1,VIII., for I find it mentioned that year in the following manner: ‘There is a drayne from Upwell to Welney, and beginneth at Thirlingegate, which the prior of Mermaud and the chanon of Thirlinge must dense. The river from Erith to Benwick, from Kirkwere to Dodney Cote, Mr. Croft shall dense; and from thence to the willow in Fages-fenne, the prior of Thirling shall dense j from Mermaud to Thirling lake, the prior of Thirling, the cellerer of Bury, and the prior of Mermaud shall dense.’ A manor in Thirling and Upwell, Tanner adds, was granted, 30 Hen. VIII., to Thomas Meggs, as part of the possessions of the Priory of Ixworth in Suffolk; unless it be a mistake in the Abstracts I have procured.”


Brunnesburo, or Brimesburgh,0 says Tanner. Here was a Monastery (dedicated to St. Barnabas, as Mr. Mores) founded by the famous Elfleda, countess of Mercia, about the year of Christ 912.

“Anno Edwardi Regis xvj.” Elfleda, uxor Ethelredi ducis, ” soror dicti Regis Edwardi, regnum Merciorum, exceptis London, et Oxonia quas rex sibi retinuit longo tempore strenue rexit, et anno eodem Monasterium et Burgum de Brimesburgh construxit.”

Chron. Jo. Bromt. abb. Jorn. Script, x. Twysd. col. 834. So Leland, Collcctan. torn. i. pp. 215,219.

Whatever this was, says Tanner, it probably soon decayed. The Church of Bromburgh or Bronborrow in Wyrehall was impropriated to the Abbey of Chester, and since made part of the endowment of the Dean and Chapter.

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Tanner speaks of a Nunnery at St. Benet’s in the parish of Lanivet, the tower whereof, he says, is yet standing. In a Note, he says, Tonkin, Qucere.

CONSTANTYN, in the Deanry of KERRYER.

Tanner says, This seems to have been a Church of more than ordinary note, by what is said in Domesday Book, under the title ” Ecclesise aliquorum Sanctorum;” sc.

“Sanctus Constantinus habet dimidiam hidam terrse quae fuit quieta ab omni servitio tempore Regis Edwardi; sed postquam comes terram accepit, reddidit gelduminjuste sicut terra villanorum. Terra est nil. car. Val. x. solid. Quando comes terram accep. valeb. Xl. solid.” d


Carew, in his Survey, foil. 81 b, 116 b, mentions a Friary here of which no other notice has been discovered.

* “Apud Horningsey monasterium regiac dignitatis extitit, eratque ibidem non parva congregatio clericorum.” MS. Lib. Eliensis, lib. ii. cap. 32. et exinde doctiss. Caius in Antiq. Cantab, acad. Lond. 1568. 12°. p. 218.

° Lib. Elien. Hist. Ramesb. edit Gale, cap. lxxxii.

• Vide Nominum locorum explicationem per cl. Gibsonum ad finem Chron. Saxon, in voce Brunanburgh. It is much more reasonable that this town should be placed in this part of the kingdom, where this lady

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DACOR presided; and Camden in Cumberland, and Leland, Collect.

li. p. 152, speak of it from him: but it does not appear from Bede in bis Ecclesiastical History, b. iv. ch. 32, men- any records to have been standing since the Conquest, as is tions a Monastery, which being built near the river Dacore, noted at the bottom of Gibson’s Camden, col. 831, edit, took its name from it, over which the religious man Suidbert 1695.


Tanner says,” Churchill, in the parish of East Downe, in the deanry of Shirwell. Here was some time a Priory.” He refers to Eisdon, vol. i. p. 121.


Leland, in his Itinerary, vol. iii. p. 70, says, “There was and is a Chapelle of S. Patrike, as I remember, yn the Castele of Dartemouth: and it hath been yn tymes paste, as it apperith, sum litle Cell annexid to sum great Abbay.”

In vol. viii. of the same work, p. 107, he says, ” Ther

is a Chapell of Seint Patrike in the Castle of Dartemouthe, and by some old writynges it aperithe that it was a Cell of Monks.”


In the parish of South Bovey: once, according to Bisdon, a Priory, afterwards the seat of the Southcots :a but Lysons observes he can find no Becord to confirm the tradition of its having been a priory.


A Monastery in the diocese of Exeter. Begistr. Episc. Exon. MS.


The Priory of St John Baptist stood at the east end of the Town, and was valued, 26 Hen. VIII., at 6/. per annum. Tanner says, it is not known to what Order it belonged. It is now a dwelling-house, and is called St. Jones. See Hutchins’s Hist Dorset, vol. i. p. 241.


Leland, Itin. vol. viii. p. 65, says,” Camestern. Moniales nigra.”

Tanner calls it a Monastery of White Nuns, mentioned in Gervase of Canterbury’s Manuscript Catalogue: so must be as ancient as the time of K. Richard 1st. It was dedicated to St Mary Magdalen.

Hutchins, in his History of Dorsetshire, says,

“Our accounts of this House are very imperfect and obscure: I am inclined to fix it at Cripton (anciently a manor and vill belonging to Winterborn Came), as Winterborn Came entirely belonged to the Abbey of Caen, and Priory of Frampton: Cripton might be called anciently Winterburn Hundingdon, and this might be a Cell to Tarent, and Camestrum a corruption for Kaineston, near which it stood. Or the difference of the dates of these two foundations may be reconciled by supposing the nunnery of TarentKaineston to have been founded first at Camestrum, and removed to Tarent in the next century. But if you suppose them to have been of the Benedictine Order (Leland calls them Moniales nigrae, which was the habitof the Benedictines; that of the Cistercians was black in publick, but white at home), it might stand in Came, and be under the patronage of the Abbey of Caen.”

This, it must be owned, leaves the matter in the same obscurity in which the author found it


Dr. Rawlinson had in his possession a Seal with this Inscription:

“S. Conv. de Poole.” See the English Topographer, 8vo. Lond. 1720, p. 43.


Hutchins, in his History of Dorsetshire, first edition, vol. ii. p. 71, says, “Here was a small Priory or Cell belonging to the Priory of Shene in Surrey, and perhaps long before a Cell to some foreign monastery.”


Here is said to have been a Nunnery0 in the Saxon times, before the year 876,d when this town was assaulted and taken by the Danes.


Here, says Tanner, was anciently a small Priory, of what order cannot be discovered. It was dedicated to St Leonard, and was in the patronage of the lords of the manor of Langton Wallis. Its principal is, in the records, sometimes styled chaplain, sometimes warden or prior, and the House itself, sometimes a Priory, sometimes a Chantry or Free Chapel. It was endowed with lands in Mappouder and Knolton, valued temp. Hen. VIII. at 12/. 16s. 4td., and was suppressed in that reign with other lesser houses.

See Hutchins’s Dorsetshire, vol. i. p. 214, 1st edit.


BACTANESFORD. Here, says Tanner, was a Monastery of black canons

* See Risdon. i. 51, and Lysons’s Mas;. Brit Devon, p. 57. k Not in Wiltshire, as the old edit, of Mon. Angl. torn. i. p. 1036.

from Gisburn, begun to be built by Henry Pusar or Pudsey, son to the Bishop; but the monks of Durham opposed it so much, that, after his father’s decease, he desisted, and gave

« LeL Collect torn. ii. p. 388.

d Cressy’s Church Hist lib. xxviii. ch. 9. ex …

■what he designed for this House to the establishing a Cell at Finchale, A. D. 1196.

Geoffrey de Coldingham, in his History of Durham, in the chapter “De electione Philippi Pictaviensis,” says, “Constructionis interea Monasterii apud Bacstaneford impatientes monachi canonicos in causam vocaverant; et usque ad ejectionem eorum tam literis apostolicis quam juri suo et prudential innitentes, nec expensis nec labori parcentes institerant. Henricus de Puteaco, pccnitentia. ductus, veniam a. priore et fratribus sua; praesumptionis expetiit, et in concordiam sub hac forma pacis rediit: Concesserunt praedicti prior et monachi eidem Henrico locum suum de Finckale cum pertinentiis suis; quem idem Henricus super altare B. Cuthberti in eleemosynam obtulit, et ecclesiae in perpetuum libere possidendam, cum omnibus rebus et possessionibus, quas in usus prius contulerat canonicorum, concessit et confirmavit; sc. ut illic ecclesiam construeret et conventum monachorum institueret.” Anglia Sacra, torn, i pp. 726, 727.

St. Ebba, daughter of Ethelfrid King of Northumber-

land, afterwards abbess of Coldingham, built here, upon the banks of the Darwent, a Monastery, before the year of Christ 660, which was afterwards destroyed by the Danes.*


Tanner writes Gateshead, Gateshide, Goatshead, olim Ad Caprese caput: and says, Here was a Monastery, whereof Uttan was abbat, before A.D. 653.b

Bourn, in his History of Newcastle, p. 166, says, The Monastery of Uttanus was where Mr. Riddle’s or Gateshead House now is: but the tradition in Leland’s time placed this Monastery where afterwards was the site of St. Edmund’s Hospital.0


At or near this place was the ancient Monastery called Heorthu, founded upon the first conversion of the Northumbrians to Christianity, about A. D. 640, by a religious woman named Hieu, or, as some copies have it, St. Bega,d whereof St. Hilda was some time Abbess.*


Bede, in his Ecclesiastical History, book iii. cap. 22, tells us, that Cedda bishop of the East Saxons, about A.D. 630/ converted the Inhabitants of this County to the faith of Christ, built Churches in several places, and ordained priests and deacons to assist him in that great work; but especially ” in the city, which in the language of the Saxons is called Ythancestir: and also in that which is named Tillaburgh (the first of which places is on the bank of the river Pante, the other on the bank of the Thames); where

gathering a flock of servants of Christ, he taught them to observe the discipline of a regular life, as far as those rude people were then capable.” From hence, Cressy saith, he built Monasteries here; and Camdem, Norden, and Newcourt say, he had his episcopal see at “West Tilbury. Wharton, in his account of Cedda, amongst the Bishops of London, takes no notice of this, and as to Ythancestir, it hath been so long swallowed up in the river Pante, or (as it is now called) Frodsham, that there have not been any remains of it for many years; but it is supposed8′ to have been where St Peter’s on the Wall now is, or near it.h


Here, says Tanner, was an old religious House long before the Conquest, which might be the Family set Bepclea mentioned in the Acts of another synod at Clovesho, A. D. 824.1 But it is more doubtful whether it consisted of Monks, as Mr. Collier,k or Nuns ;x who were suppressed by the villany of Earl Godwin, temp. Edw. Con/., as related by Camden and others out of Walter Mapes.


Leland in his Itinerary, vol. vi. p. 74, says, “Here were Nunnes destroyed, as sum say, by the Danes; it longith now to the Abbey of Glocester.”


From Spelman’s Concilia, vol. i. p. 326, from Wilkins’s Concilia, vol. i. p. 168, and from Heming’s Chartulary ” de Redditu Ecclesiae Wigorn.,” p. 50, here appears to have been a Monastery, A. D. 803.


Leland says that “there was afore the Conquest a fair and rich College of Prebendaries in this Toune, but of what Saxon’s foundation no man can tell.” m Remedius, chancellor to S. Edward the King, is said to have been founder.11 King Henry the First on making his new foundation,0 took away all their old charters.”

* Cress/s Church History, lib. xviii. c. 14.

b Vide Bedae Hist. Eccl. lib. iii. c 21. Leland, Collect, torn. ii. p. 140.

e Lei. Itin. vol. vii. p. 64. See Tann. Notit. Monast Durh. ix. d Lei. Coll. torn. ii. p. 150. iii. p. 39.

• Beds Hist Eccl. L iii. c. 24. L iv. c. 23. Capgr. Vita S. Hilda:.
‘So Camden and Newcourt: but Wharton and Fuller place

Cedda’s being made bishop here as low as the years 653 and 656.
» See Lei. Collect torn. i. p. 367. ii. p. 140.
h Tann. Notit Monast. Essex, xli.

1 Spelm. Concil. torn. i. p. 335. Compare the present Work, vol. i. p. 590. App. Num. XX.

k Eccl. Hist vol. i. p. 152 j and this may be confirmed from Tilhere’s (who was made bishop of Worcester A. D. 744, as Dugdale, or A. D. 778, as Angl. Sacr. torn. i. p. 470.) being said, in the passages here referred to, to have been before abbat of Beorclea. And so likewise Etheldune, who was made bishop of Worcester A.D. 915, is said to

have been first abbat of Beorclea, Angl. Sacr. torn. i. p. 472; and there is farther mention of the abbat of Beorclea in the present work, vol. i. 609. The charter of Ethelred also expressly calls them monks, eming, p. 103. Tann.

1 Some memory of Nuns seems to have been preserved after the Conquest in this Charter of Adeleid or Adelicia, relict of King Henry L “Adelicia Dei gratia Symoni eadem gratia Wigorn. episc. &c. Sciatis me concessisse et dedisse Ecclesia? de Kadyng, &c. ecclesias de Berkelei hern. soil, ecclesiam de Berkelei cum pnebendis eidem ecclesia? pertinentibus et prsebendis duarum moniahum, et ecclesiam de Chamma,” &c. Cartular. MS. Worslean. fol. 6 a. And Leland says, the tradition in his time was that it had been a Nunnery, Itin. vol. vi. p. 72. But this church afterwards belonged to St Austin’s in Bristol. Tann. m Lei. Itin. vol. ii. 49. Itin. vol. v. p. 65. “Reyner, tract i. 159. 0 Lei. Collect torn. i. p. 185. » Tann. Notit. Monast. Glocest. vi.

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Here was a Monastery dedicated to St. Michael the Archangel in the time of King Offa, about A. D. 790. See the charter of that King granting Timbingeton to it, in the account of the Church of Worcester,” to which Clive appears to have become annexed before the year 888.b


Leland, in his Itinerary, vol. vi. p. 72, says, ” Here was once without fayle a Nunnery; part of the cloyster standith yet.” Tanner informs us that the Patent 35 Edw. III. p. 1, m. 7. mentions a Chapel here belonging to the Church of St. Peter near Bristol, but takes no notice of any religious belonging to it.c


Leland, Itin. vol. vi. p. 92, mentions the tradition of a Nunnery having once existed there.


A Monastery appears to have existed here. Amongst the donations to the Abbey at Malmesbury, A. D. 680, there is a gift of fifteen cassates of land “juxta Tettan Monasterium” or as it is in the confirmation both of the deed and gift, “juxta Tettebury.”d


Gueta, wife to Earl Godwin, is said to have built a Religious House here, to make amends for her husband’s fraud at Berkley.e


Here, says Tanner, as Mr. Camden thinks, was that ancient Monastery under the Abbat Cimberth, about the year 680, called by Bede Reodford, i. e. Arundinis Vadum.’


The Monachi de Sapalanda occur in several entries of the Liber Wintonia3, or Winton Domesday, printed by the Commissioners upon the Public Records in their Volume supplementary to the Great Domesday, p. 538, apparently with reference to the time of King Edward the Confessor.

FEVERLEGE HEREFORD. Leland, in his Itinerary, vol. v. p. 11, speaks ot

“Feverlege, sumtyme a Religious Howse of Freres, sup- The Domesday Survey, torn. i. fol. 181 b, mentions

pressed olim, and the lands given to Wygmore and Lyne- Moniales de Hereford. Neither Dugdale nor Tanner ap

broke. Mortimers earls of the Marches,” he adds, “were pears to have met with any thing relating to them, founders of Wygmore, Lynebrook, and Feverlege.”


Cathale has been already mentioned in a Note to the These Destroyed Monasteries are noticed by Bishop Account of Cheshunt Nunnery, vol. iv. p. 829, and seems Tanner. He mentions them as “Two Houses of Black to have been founded by the Mandevilles. Cattehale Nuns mentioned to have been in this county in the old Gate, probably the site of this Monastery, where are the Catalogue of Religious Houses ascribed to Gervase of Canremains of a Chapel, still exists as the boundary fence which terbury, MS. Corp. Christ. Coll. Cant, and also in Speed.” divides the parish of Enfield in Middlesex from that of “But,” he adds, ” I have yet found nothing further of them Northan, exactly answering to the terms of the deed in any other authors, printed or manuscript. Sir Henry Num. II. from Humphry de Bohun, printed in theAp- Chauncy, p. 371, mentions a manor called Cheles, belonging pendix to Cheshunt Nunnery. to the Hospitalers.” *



From a passage already given in the Appendix to the Account of St. Augustine’s Abbey at Canterbury, it appears

* See the present Work, vol. i. p. 589.

b Vide in Hemin^i libro de terr. et reddit Monasterii Wigor. p. 118. Cartam Werfnthi episc. Wigorn. de Almundington quondam ad Monast de Cliva pertinente, dat A. D. 888, p. 245, limites sive terminos terne de Clive, Saxonice. See Tann.

c Tann. Notit. Oloucesterth. xxiv.

d Compare Tanner, Qloucestersh. xxx. and the Appendix to the Account of Malmesbury in the present Work, vol. i. p. 258.

• Tann. from the Additions to Camden, col. 247. edit. 1695.

that in the early Saxon times, there was within the walls upon the south part of this City a Monastery built in honour of St. Mildred, whose last abbat’s name was Alfwic.h Both Somner and Battely are silent upon this Monastery.

‘Notit. Monast. Hampsh. xxvi. Bede’s words, li. iv. c 16, are, “Quod cum audisset abbas quidam et presbyter vocabulo Cyniberct, habens non longe ab inde Monasterium in loco qui vocatur Hreutford, id est Vadum harundinis,” &c. edit. Smith, p. 159. Leland, Collect torn. L p. 76, says, “Monasterium de Redbrige enascente Saxonica ecclesia fundatum, cujus abbas Cymberth baptizavit duos fratres puerulos Arvandi regis Vectis carnificis manum jamjam subituros.”

» Tann. Notit Monast Hertf. vii.

h See the present Work, vol. i. p. 128, Append. S. Aug. Num. IV.


Cressy, out of Harpsfield, makes K. Egbert, who died A. D. 673, to have built here, for his sister Ermenburga, a Monastery dedicated to St. Ethelbert and St. Ethelbright, which seems to have been a mistake of the story of St. Ethelbert and St. Ethelred, brothers of Domneva here murdered, and for the expiation of which crime the Abbey of Minstre was founded.”


Speed, says Tanner, places here a Nunnery of Domneva’s foundation; which, if at all, seems rather to have been at Ebbsfleet, in the Isle of Thanet.b


Leland, speaking of this place in his Itinerary, says, “It evidently apereth that where the Paroch Chirch is now was sumtyme a fair Abbay. Yn the Quire be fayre and many Pylers of marble, and under the Quier a very fair Vaute, also a faire olde Dore of stone, by the which the Religius Folkes cam yn at mydnight. In the top of the Chirch Yard is a fayr Spring, and thereby Ruines of Howses of Office of the Abbey; and not far of was an Hospital of a Gentilman infected with Lepre.”c


Stevens, in his Continuation of Dugdale, vol. i. p. 530, gives the following Account of this Monastery, from W. Thorn’s Chronicle, col. 1931.

“There was formerly a Monastery of Nuns at Newynton, who were possessed of all that manor; but by whom founded does not appear. It happened afterwards, that the prioress thereof was strangled by her cook at night, |in her bed, and afterwards dragged to the well, which is called Nunnepet; whereupon the king seized that manor into his own hands, and kept it in his own custody, removing the rest of the nuns to Shepey. Afterwards Henry, father to King John, before the martyrdom of St. Thomas the Martyr, by advice, placed there seven priests, in the nature of secular canons, and gave them the said manor entire, and 28 weight of cheese from the manor of Middleton. Afterwards one of them was killed among them, of which murder four were found guilty; and the other two, not guilty, with the king’s licence, gave their portion to the abbey of St. Augustin, and the other five parts remained in the king’s hands, till he gave the same to the Lord Richard de Lucy, his justice, whereupon the abbat of St. Augustin’s held the said two parts. Another manuscript says, that those seven prebendaries committed that crime in the reign of King William the Conqueror, by which means all that they possessed was forfeited into the king’s hands; the which King William gave the two so often mentioned parts to the abbat of St. Augustin’s. Which of these two Accounts is the truest, is left to the reader to judge; but we will here add a third, from Mr. Hearne’s Fragmenta Sprottiana/ as follows:

“A short History of Nevn/nton.

“Memorandum, That there were once nuns at the manor of Newynton, who held that whole manoi, viz. that which the abbat of St. Augustin’s at Canterbury now holds, and that which the heirs of W. de Ripariis hold, besides what Richard Lucy purchased, Brunell Middleton, and then that manor was maintained for one swyllyngate of land to

the king at Middleton. A certain king that then was gave to the same nuns 10 pounds of his revenue at West-Newynton, in alms, at two terms, viz. at the feast of St Michael, and at the feast of St. Martin. And he assigned to the same nuns on the same 10 pounds his revenue, as far as they were to pay at the aforesaid two terms out of the said manor. And they paid at the term of St. Thomas the Apostle five shillings, and at the term of Palm-Sunday five shillings, like other swylling lands in the country. And afterwards it happened that the prioress of the same monastery was strangled by her cat in her bed at night, and afterwards dragged to a well, which is called Nunnepette. And afterwards the king took that manor into his hands, and held it in his custody. And he removed those nuns as far as Shepey. And King Henry the father of King John, before the martyrdom of St Thomas the Martyr, by the advice of the same, placed there seven priests in the nature of secular canons, and gave them the said whole manor, and besides he gave them for to mend their diet 28 weight of cheese of his manor of Middleton. And soon after one of their number was killed among them, and four were found guilty of the death of the fifth their brother. And two of the seven, who were not found guilty, with the king’s licence, gave their portion to the abbat of St. Augustin’s at Canterbury, and the other five parts remained in the king’s hands, until he gave those parts to Richard Lucy, at that time his justice. Afterwards it happened that the same Richard Lucy had a son called Godfrey Lucy bishop of Winchester, his heir, and after the death of that bishop, Godfrey Lucy, that manor devolved to Roysia Dovore, sister to that Godfrey, Anne sister of the aforesaid Roisia, and Maud Lucy the daughter of the said Roisia; and so that manor is divided. Thence the abbat of St. Augustin’s holds as well in lands as in revenues of the aforesaid seven parts two parts in all particulars, and the other five parts are divided into two parts. Whereof GefFry Lucy held one part, viz. that which belonged to Roisia, and Henry de Ripariis held the, other part of the gift of Maud Lucy his mother, and according to the aforesaid manor they pay their revenue to the court of Middleton at the feast of St. Thomas the Apostle, that is, Geflxy Lucy 22^d., and Henry de Ripariis 22£d., and the abbat oi St Augustin 15d., and the like at Easter.

“This monastery is not taken notice of in the Monasticon, or by Willis in his History of Abbies, as having ceased to be so long before the general suppression; notwithstanding the which, it deserves to be mentioned, as well as cities which are entirely lost, and their very situation not known. This must suffice concerning it, having no where met with any more concerning the same. Only I must here observe, that the two accounts from Thorn and Sprot exactly agree, excepting only in one point, about the strangling of the prioress, of which the former says it was done by her cook, and the latter by her cat, which we must leave as we find it.”

Tanner says, some writings assign the misfortune above mentioned among the Prebendaries to have happened temp. Will. Conq. And in Thorn’s Chronicle, col. 1788, it is positively asserted that the Conqueror gave the abbey of St. Augustine’s eight prebends in Newington. Compare also Hasted’s History of Kent, vol. ii. p. 550.

The Speaker, Volume 1 (Google Books)

THE WEALTH OF ENGLAND UNDER THE TUDORS. A VISITOR to the Tudor Exhibition might well imagine that

the pride of life and the ornament of a splendid pomp had first dawned for England in the days of Henry VIII., to attain its full glory under Elizabeth. The few poor relics of the reign ofI-Ienry VII.—s_ome curious pictures, a maple-wood mazer, a couple of specimens of goldsmith’s work—make a modest show in presence of the wonders of the next age. In their scanty and insignificant array, they seem but the stray glcanings from a world barren in art and to which the triumphs of profusion were unknown. It is hard to recall as one looks at them the rich past out of whose wreck they came, the vast accumulated treasure of which they remain the only fragments saved from destruction.

The brilliant court life of the later Tudor times was a new thing in English history. In earlier days it had not been the fashion for the great landowners to forsake their estates, and live at Tower Hill or Shoe Lane with a following of a hundred or two of gentlemen in livery of white frieze lined with crimson taffetas, and to spend two or three times their yearly income in a merry life of dicing, card-playing, and hunting in

Gray’s Inn Fields, Islington, and Highgate, and in buying dresses fine enough to adorn court pageants and processions where the greatest nobles of the land accepted the honour of bearing the Queen’s litter. The country noble or gentleman of the time of Edward IV. and Henry VII. had other business and other ambitions. He was not, indeed, a home~kecping man; he had to be away at the French wars, or fighting on the Scotch border, or leading levies hither and thither to put down a rebellion or to set one going, or to make a raid on his neighbour’s property. But whether he was a successful soldier or “a good Cotswold shepherd,” or a prosperous lawyer, or a wealthy judge, he remained a true provincial in heart and in interests. Booty was to be had in France, even in Scotland; there was none in London. On the contrary, ajourney to the capital needed the one thing that nobles and landowners never had—ready money in the purse. If a country lord had to attend Parliament, a supply of oats and corn was carried for the horses, “to save the expenses of his purse”; his wife managed the big household and estates in the country, and from London an army of servants rode backwards and forwards continually to fetch provisions from fields and ponds and salting-tubs at home, so that he need never go to the market or to the baker to buy for money. Sir John Paston was forced more than once to pawn his “gown of velvet and other gear” in London to get a few marks. \Vhen the Lady of Berkeley paid an unwonted visit to \Vestminster in the middle ofthe century she wrote to her husband, one of the greatest landowners in the \Vest, “ At the reverence of God send money, or else I must lay my horse to pledge, and come home on my feet;” and he managed to raise £15 to meet her needs by pawning the mass-book, chalices, and chasubles chapel.

It was in the provinces that the noble kept his true state. If his journey lay through any town, all the bells were set ringing “to give notice of the passage of such eminency,” and the burghers stood to watch him pass in his robe of scarlet twelve yards wide, with pendent sleeves down on the ground, and the “furrur therein set ” worth perhaps £200 or £300 of our money; while his attendants came after, anxiously holding up with both hands, out of the filth of the medimval streets, the wide sleeves that trailed at their sides; and mockers irreverently laughed, and said that tailors and skinners would soon have to carry their cloth and skins to a field to get space enough for cutting them out. The great oak chests of the country houses were piled up with splendid robes ; cloth of gold, figured satins, damask and silk, and velvets and fine cloths, were heaped together with rich furs of martin and beaver. Sir John Fastolf had thirty-five coverings for his head—hoods of satin, russet, and velvet, straw hats, hats of beaver lined with damask gilt and the like, to suit his various robes. Chains of gold of the “old fashion” and the “ new,” collars of gold covered with “roses and suns,” precious stones, women’s girdles of cloth of gold harnessed with gold, or with silver-gilt worked by famous foreign makers, made fully as brave a show in the fifteenth century as in the one that came after.

The houses, too, were rich with treasures gathered from far and wide—brass pots and-chaffems from France, gold work from Venice and Genoa, habergeons from Milan, ewers of blue glass powdered with gold, alabaster pots painted and gilded, “cushions of gold embroidered with ramping lions of silver,” and coverings of cloth of gold. Rich coloured silks covered the walls, or tapestries worked with a hundred designs—a Moorish dance, a line of poplars, a savage and child, a siege, a lady harping by a castle. Sometimes, but rarely, one or two pictures of the patron saint of the family were among the treasures. There were collections of books “portrayed and blazoned,” chronicles and romances and tales and scientific treatises, and manuscripts with the beautiful illuminations for which the English school was famous in Europe.

But the real wealth of the nobles lay in their amazing stores of gold and silver plate. Fastolf had laid up in his Treasure Tower

of his . and in the safe rooms of monasteries vessels that weighed over 16,000 ounces, besides the plate in his butler’s pantry. \Ve read of ewers, and goblets, and platters of gold; great chargers of silver, weighing 200 ounces or- more; a flagon of silver of 351 ounces—others with gold verges and enamelled chains about them ; gilt basins, with antelopes ; gilt cups like fountains, with enamelled flowers; salt-cellars like towers; “basins of I80 ounces, covered with silver of Paris touch and over-gilt, pounced and embossed with roses, and with great large enamels in the bottom, with certain beasts embossed standing within a hedge of silver and gilt upon the said enamels ;” great gallon pots, having the edges gilt and wreathed with poppy leaves ; gilded goblets with columbine flowers, and the like. At the funeral of a lady of Berkeley, early in the sixteenth century, the plate was brought out to give “ a drinking” to the Mayor of Bristol and his brethren; “and I thank God,” wrote the steward, “no plate nor spoons was lost, yet there were twenty dozen spoons.” Public bodies had vast treasures. In Christchurch, Canterbury, there were in r466 three hundred silver vessels which weighed over three thousand ounces ; and many others so richly adorned with chasing and enamelled work, that, being almost priceless, they could not be appraised. Each of the seventy-six monks in the monastery had his own supply of plate; one, who was not the best furnished, had a silver salt-cellar with cover and gilded stag, a painted vase gilded, and nine drinking-bowls, one richer than another with the work of goldsmith and enameller. In the Exhibition a single trader’s token from Eastcheap reminds us of the great body of burghers and merchants who were heaping up wealth, and into whose hands the treasures of the nobles were fast passing. Town bodies and gilds had their own collections; here and there a patriotic citizen left a cup or flagon to grace the corporation dinners; an Exeter gild would only accept from its members spoons of the new style. Occasionally a borough that specially wanted the king’s good-will would have his picture painted for its Gild Hall.

A fastidious taste began to declare itself. Warriors had carried back tapestries and plate from the French wars. Traders had brought the work of Flemish artists and goldsmiths. Plate was marked of the “ old fashion” or the “ new ;” the “ Paris touch” was noted ; the name ofthe maker, German or English,was constantly registered—Colet, Rippyngale, Hans Eborlyn, Stanton, Rous, and so on. Every town had its own goldsmith, and foreign workers were drawn from over-sea to carry on their trade in England. Gisbright Vanbranburgh came as early as 1422 to be the King’s Engraver in the Tower of London. It was a Dutchman whom Henry VI. employed to paint for him the portrait of a French lady, and who spent three sad winter months at the work because the cold had frozen his colours.

Such was the wealth upon which the spendthrifts of Elizabeth’s court “fed and feasted” till ruin overtook them, and on which “Jack of Newbury” and his fellows prospered and laid field to field. It is in watching such prodigious spoils poured into the goldsmith’s or the coinefs melting-pot till scarcely a mazer has survived, that we catch a glimpse of the mighty economic revolution by which the old world was made into the new. The revolution was no less profound and far-reaching than that which we have seen in the nineteenth century. It transformed the whole condition of trade; it scattered hoardcd wealth and gathered it up into new hands; it ordered social life after new ideals; it changed the conditions of land-tenure, the mode of agriculture, the distribution of property; it gave a new character to capital, and taught it fresh uses ; it trained a new class in the exercise of political power. In its progress, the vast accumulated treasure of the past was swept away in a common destruction. But the great change was wrought out with subtle discriminations and diversities of dealing; and there is no more curious and suggestive study than to trace the various ways in which the century of revolution from the battle of Bosworth to the wreck of the Armada dealt with the hoards of the Church, of the great noble,

or of the city merchant and shopkeeper. A. S. GREEN.

Home Words for Heart and Hearth, Volumes 23-25 (Google Books)


Cht $torp of Čngland’s Church,


EFORE the Reformation the old

mediaeval Church was practically a Church without a Bible. A very large number even of the clergy could not read it. To the people it was a sealed book. On going to the diocese of Gloucester, Bishop – Hooper found that out of 311 clergy, 168 were unable to repeat the Ten Commandments, thirty-one could not say in what part of Scripture they were to be found, forty could not tell where the Lord’s Prayer was written, and thirty-one did not know who was its Author !

The Reformation, aided by printing, put the Bible into the hands of the people, and restored the supremacy of Holy Scripture as the one rule of faith.

It is the fashion to say that the Church presents the doctrine, and that the Bible is used to prove it. That is not the doctrine either of Scripture, or of the Apostles, or of the Fathers, or of the Reformation. Scripture is supreme because it contains the words of Christ Himself, and the words of inspired men. The Fathers after the time of the Apostles drew the sharpest possible distinction between their own words and those of the inspired writers; and when it began to be the custom to draw up formularies at Councils, the Council did not prepare a doctrine and then bring Scripture to prove it, but it deduced the doctrine from the very Scripture itself.

In the Book of Homilies it is said: “Let us diligently search for the well of life in the books of the New and Old Testaments, and not run to the stinking puddles of men’s traditions, deceived by men’s imaginations, for our justification and salvation. For in Holy Scripture is fully con


tained what we ought to do, and what to eschew, what to believe, what to love, and what to look for at God’s hands at length. . . . If it shall require to teach any truth, or reprove false doctrine, to rebuke any vice, to commend any virtue, to give good counsel, to comfort or to exhort, or to do any other thing requisite for our salvation, all those things, saith St. Chrysostom, we may learn plentifully from the Scripture. There is, saith Fulgentius, abundantly enough both for men to eat and for children to suck. There is whatsoever is meet for all ages, and for all degrees and sorts of Inell. . . Whosoever giveth his mind to Holy Scripture, with diligent study and burning desire, it cannot be, saith St. John Chrysostom, that he should be left without help. And in another place St. Chrysostom saith that man’s human or wordly wisdom and science is not needful to the understanding of Scripture; but the revelation of the Holy Ghost, who inspireth the true meaning unto them that with humility and diligence do search therefor.” And in confirmation of this great primary view we may remember that the vast majority of Christians agree in plain, simple, fundamental truths—the Fatherhood of God, the Divinity of our Lord, the work of the Holy Spirit, the Redemption of the world, the initial rite of baptism, the spiritual festival of the Lord’s Supper, and the like.

And so we hold fast as the very palladium of our spiritual liberties the Sixth Article: “Holy Scripture containeth all things necessary to salvation; so that whatever is not read therein, nor may be proved thereby, is not to be required of any man, that it should be received as an article of the faith, or be thought requisite or necessary to salvation.”

“@ur Glarrbing (Prberg:” FACTS AND GLEANINGS FROM THE MISSION FIELD. “Tell it out among the heathen that the Lord is King.”—Ps. xcvi. 10.

in the Island of Ceylon was commenced in the year 1818. From the first, progress was very slow. After

* the first ten years of labour, twenty-eight names stood on the communicants’ roll. The next fifty years increased these to nearly 1,500, and in the fifteen years which have since rolled by these have nearly doubled. The Mission is now in its every part marked by steady growth and increasing stability. Each year, after most careful probation and instruction, about 200 men and women are admitted by baptism into the Church, and at the close of 1893 there were over 8,000 Singhalese and Tamil Christians connected with

£ of the Ceylon Mission.-The C.M.S. Mission

the C.M.S. in the island, of whom 2,797 are communicants. How is it?—How is it that all the gifts of all the Protestant Churches of the United Kingdom for God’s Missionary work abroad amount to less than 1% millions, and those of our Protestant and Evangelical Church to but £686,692? How is it that some 5,000 parishes contribute nothing to any Church of England Missionary Society? How is it that multitudes of professing Christians never give “worthily of God” P Meanwhile England and Wales, with a population of 29 millions, consume spirits to the value of 27} millions sterling, 16 millions worth of tobacco, and 78} millions in beer!—The Rev. Edward Lombe.

HREE little brothers, tired for the moment of tops and marbles, for want of something better to do, began to talk over their school-fellows. If any one ###, of these had happened to peep in, they would have verified the old proverb, that “listeners hear no good of themselves.” Johnny Arnold was the first subject of these young fault-finders. They did not linger long over him; “a little milksop” was felt to be a satisfactory statement of public opinion about Johnny. Then came Fred Williams. Fred was the biggest boy in the school. It took a long time to do justice to his character, but the verdict finally pronounced was, “A regular bully.” And so they ran through the list—big chaps and little mites, tritons and minnows, trousers and knickerbockers. Last, not least, came Harry Grubb. He was a medium boy—not too little to be contemptible, not too great to be above criticism. In fact, he was a form-fellow of our three little brothers,—who were all pretty much of a height, and were generally set down as being of the same age. Harry Grubb was accounted quite one of their special chums. He it was who walked home from school with Jim, Jack, and Joe every day of their lives. Yes; Harry was their very good friend—and this is how they spoke of him. “He’s such a coward,” said Joe—who ran behind a gate whenever he saw a cow—“I hate a coward.” “Yes,” assented Jack, “and what a temper he has!


He’s always getting into a rage about something or other, and he sulks like anything.” Jack, be it observed, was known to his little circle by one or other of two titles. Sometimes he was called “Waxy Jack,” sometimes “Sulky Jack.” “He is!” cried Jim, speaking very loud to get his turn ; “and as for greediness—well, I never saw his match. I think a greedy fellow ought to be sent to Coventry.” Now Jim, like the rest of us, had a good many failings; but the one which struck everybody—his strong weakness, his distinguishing bad quality— was greediness. He wanted a bite out of everybody’s apple, and a slice out of everybody’s cake. He had the surest eye in the world for the plummiest piece, the largest half: and the promptest hand to grab it. When he got anything good himself, he went into a secret corner and gobbled it up to the last fragment. Even his brothers had given up asking him for a share—not because they were shy, but because they were hopeless. They knew Greedy Jim too well. Now the mother of the three young backbiters had entered the room a little while ago; but they were so absorbed in their scandal that they had never observed her presence. She laid her hand on Jim’s shoulder, and all the boys looked up with a start. “Keep your places,” she said, “and I’ll tell you a fable. You won’t find it in AEsop, I think; but it ought to be put into the next edition,


“A bull-terrier, a hare, and one or two other guests, were asked one day to the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Grunter to take a friendly cup of tea, and—though this object was not mentioned in the invitations—to talk a little friendly gossip. They had under discussion, in turn, every creature in the Zoological Gardens, and a good many others. They began at the lion, and descended to the mouse. I was going to say they finished at the mouse—only they never finished at all. Nobody came off very well I fear. The lion was considered loud and blustering; the fox was voted superficial. The peacock was convicted of execrable taste in dress. But the animal who fared worst of all at their hands was Lady Languish’s lap-dog. Now I may say here that King Charlie– though by no means a perfect character—was not at all a bad little fellow, as little fellows go. If you or I wore a new Cambridge-blue collar every day— Cambridge-blue was the shade considered favourable to Charlie’s complexion—and sat on a velvet cushion or in a velvet lap, and had a fresh joint cooked for us every day, we might very probably have turned out a good deal lazier and more self-indulgent than he. No! in the main Charlie was a very good sort—warmhearted, and kindly, true to his friends, and generous beyond everything. However, if you had known him only by the report of these, his affectionate friends, you would have said that hanging was too good for him. “‘Never before, you would have said, ‘was there such a frightful example of canine depravity. He seems to have all the vices, little and big, squeezed into that small round body of his.” “‘It’s his cowardice that’s worst of all,” said the hare, throwing back her head, and looking a very Joan of Arc. ‘Cowards ought to be swept off the face of the earth.’” “Think of the hare saying that !” exclaimed Joe. “And she herself such a poor-spirited thing. She had no business to talk, anyhow.” “Just so,” said Joe’s mother; “but let me get on with my story. “‘And then his temper, put in the bull-terrier. ‘He’s that snappish there’s no saying a word to him. Oh, bad temper-crossness, snappishness, sulkiness— is a thing that I can’t abide.’” “What about his own temper?” said Jack. “I dare say it wasn’t much to brag about.” “It certainly was not. The night before, he had growled at the maid who brought him his supper; and I believe he would have torn the boot-boy to

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pieces had not his chain pulled Master Bully up short. “‘Yes, yes, sighed Mr. Grunter, as he selected the most buttery piece of toast—turning over, face downwards, several slices that intervened—“his temper is odious. However, I could forgive him that. We are all of us a little hasty at times. But what I can not forgive is his greediness. That’s a horrid vice—excuse strong language, but I feel strongly. I’ll take another slice of toast.”” “He was a fine one to talk,” cried Jim. pig is the greediest beast on earth.” “It appears to me,” Joe remarked, putting his hands magnificently into his trouser-pockets, “that these animals had better have looked at home before they ran down other people. “Those who live in glasshouses shouldn’t throw stones, the proverb says.” “Quite right, Joe. You have almost saved me from the necessity of pointing the moral of my story. Your moral is good enough; however, I’ll supply another,

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“O wad some power the giftie gie us, To see oursels as others see us 1′

I find you three boys gossiping about your neighbours like three old maids. You dwell on every little fault of every acquaintance, and you haven’t a word to say about their good points. Not a word about Johnny Arnold’s kind-heartedness, nor Fred Williams’ generosity, nor Harry Grubb’s perseverance. You pass over all the beauties, and ferret out all the little spots. But that’s not all. It’s Joe who is most down upon cowardice. Yes, Cowardly Joe—I know all about the cows, Joe—Cowardly Joe has no patience with Harry’s timidity. You may well hang your head, my boy—nobody ever had better cause. It’s Sulky Jack-Waxy Jack—who can’t forgive Harry’s little tantrums. It’s Greedy Jim—do you remember, Jim, about grandfather’s mincepies?—who wants to send his friend to Coventry, because he gets less of Harry’s cake than he would like. I’m ashamed of you all, boys! Now remember—the fault upon which people are most apt to be hard is their own particular fault. They throw stones at their neighbour’s greenhouse, and break their own parlour-window. That’s what you young gentlemen have done. Well, I must not be too hard upon you. Come and give me a kiss, my boys, and we’ll let this little matter drop. Only don’t pick holes in your friends another time. Whenever you are tempted to be hard upon anybody, think of the fable of the Hare, the Bull-dog, and the Pigs, and hold your tongues.”

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1. HO had a servant who bore the name of a flower ? 2. Where was the first purely Gentile Church founded ? 8. And a new name given to the disciples P 4. And the first Christian collection made for relieving tem: poral distress? [the Gentiles P 5. And the first organisation made of missionary efforts among 6. And the first missionary meeting held P 7. And the first Christian controversy originated? 8. Where is God called “heaven”? 9. Who knew he would live to be old P [death? 10. Who thought it might be needful to refer to a judge’s 11. Who was spared seeing his son’s mangled body ?

12. Where is St. John’s first mention of the apostles P

ANSWERS (See DECEMBER No., p. 283).

1. (a) Isa. xlii. 1; lii. 13; (b) Isa. lix. 20; (c) Dan. ix. 25; (d) Micah v. 2; (e) Zech. vi. 13, (f) Mal. iii. 1.

2. To fulfil the law (Matt. v. 17); to call sinners to repentance (Matt. ix. 13); to send “a sword” (Matt. x. 84); to “minister”; to give His life a ransom for many (Matt. xx. 28); to do the wili of the Father (John vi. 38); to give life (John x. 10).

3. Waiting (1 Cor. i. 7); looking, and hasting (2 Peter iii. 12).

4. To keep the commandment (1 Tim. vi. 14); to be patient (Jas. v. 7); and to hold fast (Rev. iii. 11).

5. 1 Thess. v. 23, 24.

#lamp Chingg.


O your Work Well.–Men said the old smith was foolishly careful as he wrought on the great chain he was making in his dingy shop in the heart of the great city. But he heeded not their words, and only wrought with greater painstaking. Link after link he fashioned, and at last the chain was finished and carried away. Years passed. One night there was a terrible storm, and the ship was in sore peril of being hurled upon the rocks. Anchor after anchor was dropped, but none of them availed. The chains were broken like threads. At last the mighty sheet anchor was cast into the sea, and the old chain was quickly uncoiled and run out till it grew taut. All watched to see if it would bear the awful strain. Itsang in the wild storm as the vessel’s weight surged upon it. It was a moment of intense anxiety. The ship, with its cargo of a

HE Milk Trade.—Some interesting particulars have been reT cently given of the London milk trade. Water is not now used to adulterate milk as it used to be ; separated (or skimmed) milk takes its place. New milk costs one shilling and eightpence per barn gallon, and separated milk is purchased at eightpence; the two being placed together are retailed at one shilling and sixpence or one shilling and eightpence. Chalk is not now used ; but starch is frequently added, and is not easily detected by the analysts. If pure milk only were sold in London, it is computed that from twenty to thirty thousand additional cows would be required. Umbrellas.-Most people dry their umbrellas handle upwards. This concentrates the moisture at the tip where it is close, rusts the wires which secure the ribs, and rots the silk. After the umbrella is drained, it is better to turn it handle down and dry it in that position. Fresh air, exercise, and occupation, are the three composing medicines, the three best aperients, the three best cosmetics we possess.

Socks.-To mend a very large hole in socks or woven underwear, tack a piece of strong net over the hole and darn over it. Thus mended the garment will be stronger than when new and look far neater than if darned in the ordinary way.

Feather Beds.-Feather beds and pillows would be very much freshened and lightened if left out in a drenching rain every spring; they should then be exposed to the sun and air on every side until perfectly dry. But the wisest plan is to have no Feather beds. They are far from healthy. Rest on a mattress is far more refreshing.

thousand lives, depended upon this one chain. What now if the old smith had wrought carelessly even one link of his chain But he had put honesty and truth and invincible strength into every part of it, and it stood the test, holding the ship in safety until the storm was over and the morning came. L. N.

Clocks in England.–In the reign of Edward the First, there were only two clocks in England: the one was placed in an old tower of Westminster Hall, the other in Canterbury Cathedral; they were both of foreign workmanship. It was not until the time of Edward the Third that clocks were made in this country.

Fingers and Forks.—As late as the fifteenth century the custom of eating with the fingers was still continued; for, as yet, there were no forks, even at the table of the king.

** LEEPY Hollow.”—The question “How long ought we to remain in Sleepy Hollow P” is an old one that has had many answers. One or two new points are, however, worthy of notice. A sleeper should never be waked except in cases of urgent necessity. When a man falls asleep, he is in a shape for repairs. All the intricate machinery of his body is being overhauled and put in order for next day’s work. Nature knows what the tired man needs. She lays him on the bed, surrounds him with the refreshing air of night, covers him with darkness, and lets him rest. “Tired nature’s sweet restorer, balmy sleep,” visits him, and as the hours pass by his energies are renewed, his strength comes back, and when the daylight steals through the window, he opens his eyes and feels like a new man. If he is early to bed he wakes correspondingly early. Now, who will go to that man’s side an hour before he opens his eyes and say to nature, “Stand aside and let him get up; he has had enough rest”? Nature will say, “You can take him if you will, but I will charge him with an hour’s loss of sleep, and I’ll collect it out of his bones and nerves and hair and eyesight. You can’t cheat me. I’ll find property to levy on.” Nature is the best bookkeeper in the world. You may overdraw, but you must pay back, even to the “pound of flesh.” Sponges.—The sponge, from the oil of the skin, and from the oil of the hair, and from frequent use, becomes greasy, and clammy, and unpleasant. One good way to remove the grease and clamminess is to let the sponge soak all night in neat vinegar—the stronger the better—and the following morning to knead, and rinse, and wring it well out in the vinegar, and then to rinse it out in several fresh quantities of cold water.-The News.

The Knickerbocker; Or, New-York Monthly Magazine, Volume 17 (Google Books)

REGENT-STREET has no historic interest, even less than our Chesnutstreet. It has less variety, too, of buildings and pursuits than your Broadway, and bears no comparison with the Boulevards in this respect. Its great beauty consists in its company; in its animated display of equipages, in its well-dressed and elegant multitudes. In these particulars, it has no rival in the universal history of streets.

I like fashionable streets. In walking in them, one feels, for the time being, a refined antipathy to low life. If shabby in apparel, one sneaks instinctively into some place of meaner resort. The inclination to be decent is, I believe, one of the strongest of the human mind. Pliny informs us that the drowned ladies of his time were always found .# their faces; their strongest feeling being, in the last struggles of life, the becoming. Poets have given their heroes, even those not very delicately brought up, such as Julius Caesar, the same sentiment. One might reason much, if careless about squandering time, of the advantages to be drawn from these human feelings; say the statesman, of his power, through the means of fine streets and gardens, and other places of public resort, of making the upper classes instrumental in refining that part which, from neglect or scorn, or from want of observation, is continually falling into slovenly and immoral habits; and of the good effects which the frequency of such places, and a more familiar intercourse of the different orders, might have in lessening pride on the one hand, and on the other the vicious emulation produced by an excessively important and exclusive gentility. The south and Picadilly end of this street meet you with a curve, having on each side a colonnade and roof over a wide pavement, which is called the Quadrant; a kind of eddy, that receives the sediment of the street of a rainy day, and affords shelter to those who have none elsewhere. This Quadrant continues in a tangent due north, and terminates at a mile distant, in Regent’s Park. I mounted the gentle ascent, and stood where Oxford-street pours in its multitudes, east and west, mixed with the elegant world from Grosvenor and Berkley squares, and the other fashionable districts. Here the grand scene suddenly explodes. One used only to the laconic simplicity of our Schuylkill, on reaching this spot, stands agape with astonishment; and at the end of an hour you will see him gaping there still. One becomes fatigued, however, with the general prospect, at length, and begins to analyze, and look into the details. Equipages do not present themselves in a single form, but in a most agreeable and picturesque variety. Now it is a gorgeous and massive chariot—the king’s ; cream-colored horses, sturdy and large, two postillions, mounted footmen, and lancers, front and rear, in scarlet livery; now it is a tiny coach, light as Queen Mab’s, when she trots over ladies noses in a dream, driven by a woman in the full blaze of English beauty, with ponys a little bigger than Venus’ doves; now it is a high-mounted barouche, rich with emblazonry, displaying its group of gallants and noble dames, overlooking the prospect; or a modest box, an earl’s arms upon the pannels, and at a foot only from the pavement, to accommodate old age and the gout. Now and then you see a two-wheeled vehicle, burnished with the precious metals, and a single horse, and inside a single gentleman, white-gloved, and the jetty reins reposing gracefully on the left hand and grasped in the right, rattling over the pavement, and going nowhere with infinite speed — passing sometimes over a man’s body without his knowing it. This is a tilbury. The little man in sky-blue, silver-laced, who swings in the rear of it like the tail of a kite, whose shorts, and fairtops, high-buttoned jacket, silver shoulder-knots, and bushy hair curled over his varnished cap, give an air of the pompous, excessively genteel. This is a tygar—an individual not yet known in America, and therefore the more deserving of notice. Little he must be, from the nature of his functions; and leanness being inadmissible in a gentleman’s household, therefore little and plump. He is suspected of being sometimes of the gentler sex. Doubtful. He is intrusted with his master’s private affairs, and minus plaisirs, and is required to be of wonderful secrecy and fidelity. Why called a ‘tygar,” I omit to inquire. It is not granted mortals to know all things. He who sits imminent in front, of graver aspect, and sturdier frame, wearing a broad brim, and coat with the majesty of many folds and

capes, and a wig, making the coach-box dispute important looks with the wool-sack; this august personage is the coachman. Driving gives to the human countenance a cast of gravity. There is the idea of holding the reins, and sense of important functions. One may be charged with a duchess, and a long line of ancestors, or it may be, with the destinies of the three kingdoms; one may drive perhaps the prime minister. Indeed, the dignity of this office has been recognized in all ages. Automedon was one of Homer’s notabilities. In England some of the noblest blood seats itself occasionally upon the coach-box. In Jehu’s time they made kings of drivers, and often in ours they make drivers of kings; and this incognito brings a general respect; as when the gods travelled in mortal disguises, a poor devil was treated with fat geese and other civilities, through fear it might be Jove, or some other stroller from the skies. The plump little man astride the leading horse, like a pair of compasses; his face the full moon, in a powdered wig; his livery silver upon a black, yellow, or blue ground; the arms of “our house’ emblazoned upon his left sleeve, and a bouquet at his button-hole, is the postillion. Above all things, if you presume to drive into Regentstreet, let your footman be tall, and perfect in shape, a study for a statuary. Let his coat be of a glaring color, rustling in gold or silver, his vest plush, the sky-blue lining reflecting upon the bright polish of his countenance. His hair must be powdered and frizzled into ringlets, and he must wear a laced hat, and silk hose of the drifted snow. Two of these must swing in your rear, and one more on days of parade; each holding on great occasions a mace, glittering with the precious metals, obliquely over the tail of your chariot. If a great lady does sometimes take a fancy for her footman, in England, as we read in the romances, it has its apologies. This elegant individual is chosen also in Paris upon the same principles; but there he is plumed, which yet adds to the procerity of his figure ; he is more airy too, and elastic, and steps upon the tail of a coach like ‘feathered Mercury.” If with these principal figures, footmen, coachmen, and postillions, you imagine a graceful and magnificent chariot, its pannels blazing with crests and arms, and filled with a group of ladies and their cavaliers, and drawn by six horses of fine rounded and tapering forms, and skins of the dove, and burnished with rich trappings, you will have before you one of the prettiest objects ever presented to the human fancy; one which Homer’s muse would not have disdained to describe. Of these footmen there are in London enough to found a colony, about thirty thousand. They have, too, their several ranks, conferred by personal merits, and the dignity of the employers; he who bears the long staff, announces his master, and delivers messages, being of a more graceful mien and polished phrase. And the pride of place of the footman is quite as great as that of the patron. To see a pair of broad shoulders, fit to do good service at the plough, thrown away in this manner upon the tail of a coach, at first inspires one with contempt for the individual. But after all, what matter whether you step behind a coach, or get into it, if happy in your lot Not the least beautiful images of the picture are the mounted ladies and gentlemen. All the variety of noble steeds for which the English are so noted, are seen here caparisoned richly, and mounted by the best riders of the world. Horsemanship may be considered as an English virtue par eminence. Fanny Kemble, who used to scamper up Chesnut-street, the oafs with mouths wide enough to swallow her and the horse, including spurs and martingale, for her riding qualities (these only) would be here unnoticed. Fifty ladies are now in view, who would leap you a five-bar gate, and come in at the death. As for the Englishman, he is a kind of centaur, and seems to be a part of the horse; other nations look as if they mightfall off. In fine arts, and in literary and military glory, the French may dispute perhaps the palm with this island; but on horseback, the Englishman leaves the world at his heels. The London merchant is often rich enough to imitate, and even outdo, the splendor of the nobles; and parades his magnificence so presumptuously in all the public places, that the latter are driven to hunt distinction in the opposite direction. It is common enough to see a lord, with the blood of twenty generations in his veins, mounted in simple garb upon a nag, followed by his footman upon a full-blooded steed, in all the pomp of liveried greatness. I forgot to say that an American citizen, of Philadelphia, is seen daily riding up Regentstreet, with a hauteur that ill-befits the freedom of our state. The street margins have each a broad walk, paved with square flags, and each covered with a full stream of pedestrians. About ’93, a gentleman used to appear abroad with a toupée, and two curls on each ear, and a chapeau under the arm; and to be properly frizzed and coiffed was the affair of two or three hours. To reduce this exuberance of dress, was one of the achievements of the French revolution; and more modern reform continues to trench upon the elegancies of life daily. Each class, however, still continues, upon the continent, to move quietly in its separate sphere, and retains a peculiar mode of dress; but in England, no employment disqualifying anyone from being a gentleman, pretension breaks up and confuses the orders; and the very uniformity makes the laws of fashion more absolute; for neatness of fit, and the genteel air, is all that is left to distinguish the master from the valet. Also in nations which only copy, and do not invent, there will be less diversity. A Parisian fashion is always a little less fashionable in Paris than in foreign countries. Upon the Boulevards, the Philadelphia Quaker, the German, with his triangular hat and tiewig, the trowsered Turk, and Christian razeed to the quick, all pass by unnoticed. Upon Regent-street, any abrupt departure from the simple, uniform mode, is a subject of observation, and with the low-bred, sometimes, of insult. Such uniformity is much less remarkable in America, from the constant emigration of foreigners, and the greater love for French fashions. As ‘gentleman’ in London implies entire exemption from business, the pretenders are on the strain to disguise professional habits. The cockney, aping the exquisite, carries awkwardly his snowy glove between finger and thumb, and an inch of immaculate cambric looks out from his pocket; and the artist of the ballet walks toes-in, to conceal the dancing-master. All affect to seem natural; but efforts to conceal are discoveries, and the affectations flash in the eyes of the adept, in spite of the supereminent Stultz. An English gentleman is a right neat personage, having no gold nor silver ornaments, nor open-worked

embroidery, nor any attempts at finery. All is appropriate neatness. The coat does not draw away the attention from the wearer, who in fact is the principal part of the concern. Paris is the proper region of ladies’ dress, but a Frenchman is magnificent only in his robe de chambre of damask, with arabesques of divers colors upon an emerald ground: out of this, he is entitled to no sort of commendation.

The English are anti-paganist: whiskers are not permitted to spread upon a British subject lower than the ear; and they repudiate moustaches altogether. A Spanish nobleman, however, moustached and whiskered to the eyes, is quite ‘the go’ in the very fashionable circles. Their travellers often ridicule your women’s dressing on the street; their own smutty and fuliginous atmosphere making such a custom inconvenient in London. The Frenchwomen, too, run about undressed in their filthy streets in the same manner. But whatever be the streets, I like the English custom in this. Women should be relieved, on ordinary occasions, from the inquisition of the toilet. One is favorably disposed to a beauty that can stand en déshabille. Beauty gains by contrasts, and after all, is more dangerous in a well-ordered neglige, than in the extremest fashion. A woman is never dressed, who is dressed always.

HERE Mercury—who would believe it!—stepped down from the top of the East India House, Leadenhall-street, and leaving Britannia to shift for herself, presented himself at my side as escort, and now standing upon the sunny brow of the hill, where the grand scene at fashionable hours of parade opens upon the view in its brightest 6clat, and unseen, we looked out upon the passing world. This one, upon a slow drive, his ambrosial curls dishevelled in the breeze, his august visage toward the firmament due vertically, who now kindly surveys the heavens, that with his vast self compared are but an atom, and now peruses his goodly frame and well-turned legs, incomprehensible, and marvels how nature could create such fair proportions, such decencies of limb, is the London fop. Think of his dressing himself in this manner in cold blood, and riding out, regardless of consequences ! He opes his lips: let us listen! “Tom, do you ‘ear?—I say, Tom, you’ll drive on slowly. I walk. A gentleman’s figure is lost in a coach:’— and he lets himself down softly upon the pavement. She who now alights, is the beautiful and fashionable Heavens! Mercury, did you ever see such a transcendent little foot! ‘Hush | If you run into raptures in this way with a foot, what are you to do with the whole woman’ Such gracility of waist!—such jauntiness of figure! If I were a god, like you, I would take her under my special divinity. And did you see how, with three bounds, like a light wood-nymph, with an ease and grace, and as it were, without the least intention — ‘Yes, and you will see how this prettiest little leg and foot of London will contrive, without the least intention, to show themselves presently in getting again into the carriage. The difference between male and female foppery is, that the lady does not fall in love with herself. It was from a proper knowledge of human nature, that Ovid

made Hyacinth, and not his sister, die of this kind of affection. Your American dandy is but the miscarriage of a London exquisite. The perfection of the character is to be sought for in Paris, yet the Englishman is quaint and singular. A fop is the effect of excessive refinement. Nature has made no kind of excellence easy to mortals; and it is downright presumption in your ultra-marine ignorance yet to attempt the character at all. In London we have many shades of the same. Now here is one not unworthy your attention, of the parvenu breed. He makes presents to himself from a great lady, and shows them about; and exhibits the billets of his laundress as letters from people of quality. He multiplies a duchess into fifty, and lives a whole season on a duke’s dinner. “They are so horribly stupid at Almacks, he begins to be fatigued; felt no inclination, last night, but was prevailed on to go by the pretty Ambassadress of Couldn’t refuse.’ This, to whom he now gives the tip of his little finger, is an intimate acquaintance just returned from abroad, after a year’s absence. ‘How—a’—you? How—a’—they in Rome This is very neat; horribly disagreeable vests they make in London | Heard you were in town. Did n’t see you yesterday at the levée.’ ‘Devil you didn’t! Where were your eyes! I saw you. (Neither of them were there.) Tom, do you know I am fallen furiously in love with the Countess ! I am; and that I visit her every evening” — I do.’ And now he ducked his head to a great lord who passed, to show lookers-on the dignity of his acquaintance; and now he examines his legs, and talks of the intellectual faculties. This one, who blows the dust from his sleeve, is keeping up appearances. He has just undergone the refreshing process of changing his linen; he has put on a clean shirt, and feels queer in it. “Why, Job, how lean you are growing !’ ‘Dissipation dissipation I begin to think hot suppers and wines are unwholesome ; and then the sleepless nights;’ (yawns.) This one ‘passes the warm season at Brighton, or Cheltenham,’ or other watering-places — in his back parlor. Here is one who has the flavor of gentility, and though not come of a good house, actually lives with dukes and duchesses. “I am your shadow, my lord. I’ll follow.’ Great men, and especially women, , though they hate flatterers, cannot dispense with the flattery. This is a young man of promise; has travelled; sings in a duet, is good at a rubber, writes or makes sketches in albums, shapes a hat, matches a color with a complexion, to a nicety; is an obsequious attendant upon the ladies, in the absence of nobler gallants. He understands dumb show, the most difficult part of acting; is a good listener; knows by looking in a lady’s face whether she would rather talk or be talked to. He has, as you see, fashionable limbs, much better than philosophy. How often, alas! after graduating in the university, does one owe his fortune to a good leg! This man is not unhappy; he has, on the contrary, a pleasure in his sycophancy, as great perhaps as a pious person in his religious devotions. One of the natural bumps of the human skull is veneration. Pride, you see, has a curious effect upon the nervous system; elevating the chin, sometimes turning up the nose, and giving a strange toss to the head. This is my Lady > too conscious of Threadneedle-street. She is asserting her dignity, and fears to be suspected of a lower rank. A higher bred person knows nothing of such apprehensions, and walks as she pleases. ‘Who is this, do you think, who turns his back upon the commons with a lordly contempt, with almost the stride of a kangaroo, looking over his shoulder, as if afraid some one might take improper liberties with his shadow o’ A royal duke at least. “A royal fiddle-stick! He is the duke’s footman o’ I will just call your attention to this one, with lack-lustre eye, who sits in the barouche by his mamma. He is come of a noble house, is naturally stupid, and the intentions of nature have been carried out by education. His father was illustrious, and died, and the mother is unhappy over this only son, as an eagle who has hatched an owl. He has been chummed and crammed at Eton and Oxford, and does not yet know the Latin for a goose. He has danced till there are no more pumps in London, yet walks a clown as distinctly as Venus ever walked a goddess. He has been scolded into an apoplexy for deficiencies, and wears, as you see, an apologetic face, as if making excuses for the stupidity of its owner. . . . And this one—he was born, I think, in a Newgate cell; wrote history, from which he made a romance, and dramatized it. He is now a chief justice, and will die a lord. Step aside, and let pass this lady and her poodle. Tell me, most learned Hermes, why the London and Paris ladies love dogs so much better than children; and why this canine appetite has not extended to the United States. “Women have been addicted to dogs in all ages and in all countries, and the inclination will come upon your women with greater refinement. I remember that St. Clemens preached a sermon, yet extant, against ladies’ poodles, at Alexandria. A woman has a natural bias toward nursing, and give her a lap-dog, she will not want to nurse any thing else. You will observe that they who indulge much in this passion, never marry: so that dogs are in some degree the cause of old maids.” THE cloud here suddenly separated, and mixing in its kindred vapors, we stood forth purified in the open air, at Very’s, with keen appetites, and the hour six. I like the European dinner hour. An English lady now dresses for dinner at the hour her great grandmother used to undress to go to bed. Henry IV. used to dine at twelve; Louis a Great at two, and the hour of dinner has regularly advanced with every new degree of national refinement. We stepped in. This is the only house in London that bears some resemblance to the French restaurant. And this is a little unfrenchified. The woman at the contoir is left out. Son of Maia, what soup do you prefer Your Greek custom of having the meals served by the most beautiful male and female slaves, was worthy the elegant Greeks. The Romans were your imitators in this, as in most other things, giving vast prices for beautiful slaves to fill this office. “They imitated a still higher authority. We were served in

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heaven by Hebé and Ganymede, and I myself officiated in important entertainments.’ Your Roman and Greek custom (a little Burgundy after your soup) of not admitting women at their tables, was detestable. The English — and we of course — have followed this mode partially, driving out the women with the dessert and sweetmeats. Those decent London monasteries, the club-houses, will accomplish the rest. In a country whose richest tables exclude women, any high degree of enjoyment and refinement is not to be expected. Seventeen thousand is the average number of dinners devoured annually at a single club-house, the Athenaeum. It is from this practice that intemperance is more frequent at a London than at a Parisian meal. It is for the same reason there is so much less vivacity at a London than a Parisian evening party. Why, an Englishman is as stupid after dinner as “An anaconda who has swallowed a horse And the rider. Your ancient custom of healths, in which one drank part of the cup, and gave the rest to his friend, was sometimes exceptionable. ‘And sometimes delightful, as Dido’s health to the Trojan. You had the choice of the lips you would drink to.” Why was it you offered in sacrifice the tongues of the animals slaughtered for the feast ! “To intimate that the language of the feast was for the gods only ; not to be divulged among mortals.’ In our country we have them salted for the tea-table : (you will like a little of this poulet a la crapaudine ; the flavor is racy and delicate.) In many respects, the art of dining has been improved by the moderns. The Greeks imposed ceremonies upon their entertainments not in accordance with their usual good taste. Not only had they places of honor, but a master of the feast, a part of whose duty it was to compel each guest to drink his portion. How much better the French, who remove the sense of authority almost entirely; the host even mixing undistinguishably with the guests, lest his presence should impose upon their liberty. In Homer’s time, there was not only a first seat, but the largest share of meat; and the fullest cup was given to the highest rank; and we may infer, by the way Joseph helped Benjamin, that the Jews had the same custom. The English, who are the last people in Europe to introduce ease into their social intercourse, have retained these Greek absurdities, adding some of their own, which we, their faithful imitators, have transferred to the new world. Some philosophers have thought the monkies a part of our species; and nothing seems so much to induce such a belief, as the readiness with which men ape one another’s ridiculous practices. The Chinese custom of dining out yourself when you have company, is more reasonable. If any place requires to be unfettered of restraint, in a special manner, it is the festive board. A stranger at an English or American table feels like a young miss during the first days of her corsets. At a French table you are easy as the uncinctured graces.

The dinner being discussed, with many long digressions upon cookery and politics, away we hied again into the street, where the gas-lights had taken up their office for the night. The blind man’s staff went tap-tap by the wayside, the duke’s chariot rattled upon the pavement, and the beggar’s benediction died away amidst the hum of the many noises. There is nothing here like the galaxy of shops of the Palais Royal, whose cafés tempt you with sumptuous refreshments, and richest gems glitter in all the hues of India and Peru; where superb frocks recommend themselves in the most seductive attitudes, the little shoe, silk stocking, and graceful garter, lurking behind, upon legs natural as life. But sometimes a shop flashes upon your view, of surpassing richness and beauty. Here is one all window, like a face all eyes, exhibiting shawls from the precious pastures of Cashmere; their labels gold and azure, burnished with the gas, a part of the decoration. Here too are stores of French novelties, and fashions; mantillas, mantillettes, mouseline unie et brochet; and miliners and mantuamakers seeking reputation under French names; transformed like Roderick Random’s faithful Strap, who became on his continental travels “Monsieur D’Estrappe.” Mrs. Duke is ‘Madame le Duc,’ and ‘Madame de Trottville’ was once Mrs. Trotter. The rest are lodging-houses, without fashionable notoriety.

In Paris, a great man may live in a little poking alley, and be a great man nevertheless. I have visited many a member of the Institute au 4”, in a chamber ten feet by eight. A street in America is a substitute for merit. Who in Girard-street, at eight hundred dollars, presumes to associate with the front on Chesnut, at twelve hundred Here is a clear, undisputed gentility of four hundred dollars per annum ! London is even more nice in this respect. To lodge east of Regent-street, would spoil the best blood of England. When you step into your carriage, put out your head and say loudly and distinctly, ‘Drive to St. James’ Place,” or Grosvenor, Portland, and Belgrave squares. It will inspire the coachman and lookers-on with an exalted opinion of your respectability: for after all, coachmen are but men.

“I HAVE now shown you Regent-street in its prettiest varieties. A pity it is such streets are not to be expected from the radical and levelling spirit of a republic.’ Why you are the most impudent god I was ever acquainted with ! You must be hen-pecked by your new bride, to disunite from republicanism any kind of refinement. You, who at Athens passed the morning in listening to Pericles in the Senate, strolled after dinner with Phidias to the Parthenon, went to a new piece of Sophocles in the evening, and to complete the day, supped at midnight with Aspasia. We now réentered the Quadrant. Sancta Veronica! what infinite girls’ . Not more leaves fall upon the plains of the Apallachian, nipped by the first frosts. Why they count of these same London Cyprians eighty thousand “Eighty thousand ‘ And why think you this extravagant!—you who have ten thousand at New-York’s The half of ours, too, are driven to this dishonor by extreme poverty, and yours y

Mercury, which of those stars is your mother o

“She at the side of Merope, who is a little dimmer than the rest, being the only one of the seven sisters who espoused a mortal.’

Here the Cyllenian god, his feathered cap in his hand, took a civil leave, and mounting astride of a moonbeam, resumed his station at the side of Britannia, upon the East India House. . . . Good night!

Country Life, Volume 1 (Google Books)


IN the East dogs are mere scavengers; in the West they are man’s companions. To an Asiatic it is an unclean beast, to be kept away from the dwelling place; with us, hounds lay on the sweet rushes in the great halls of Saxon Thanes; and in a measure this exclusion on the one hand, this companionship on the other, has lasted to our own days. It is undoubtedly man’s love of the chase that has made him so friendly with his four-footed all}’.

When England was largely coveted with forests and wild moots, and the fierce boar disputed the lordship of hill and dale with savage wolves, strong hounds, as stout of heart as of limb, were much needed, and there is no lack of evidence that Saxons and Normans took great pains in breeding, training, and keeping wolf-dogs in good condition; while the greyhound, both for hunting the stag and coursing puss, were also in high repute. Those doughty hunters, William of Normandy and his red-pated

son, owned enormous numbers of dogs of all kinds ; so numerous were they, that they had to be kennelled in every part of the kingdom. Among ancient tenures of farms and manors we find frequent mention of duty incumbent on the holders thereof to train and keep in readiness wolf and stag hounds for such times as the king might chance in their neighbourhood on hunting intent. Even these provisions for dogs were not sufficient, and the king’s officers had a right to demand lodging and sustenance for his canine attendants from every man of gentle birth or landed estate, the clergy alone being exempted by special ordinance of Edward III.

So important was this duty of training and kennelling wolf and boar hounds and harriers, that we find heraldry reflecting the matters. The Grosvenors (the Gros-Veneurs of the Norman Dukes) had dogs as badges, and at later date as supporters. The Lovells, who held manors on the tenure of keeping a kennel of harriers, adorned their family shields with boars’ heads, talbots and greyhounds. There are many other instances of this, and in some cases we see greyhounds chasing deer on the hereditary escutcheons, or harriers in full cry after hares. At other times the heraldic dogs are guarding woods, or are chained up, and seem to bear silent witness of sporting proclivities that have descended from generation to generation.

Surely no greater compliment could be paid to the hound than this regal custom of making the puissant barons in distant counties responsible for their well-being? True it is that stray dogs found in royal forests, chases, or parks were ruthlessly slain, and their masters heavily penalised. In those days the kennel master was an important personage in the baronial household. George Turbervile, in his ” Noble Art of Venerie and Hunting” (printed in 1575), says: “A good keeper of hounds should be gracious, courteous, and gentle, loving his dogs of a natural disposition; and he ought to be well-footed and well-winded, as well to fill his home as his bottell.” In fact, he was to be a paragon. Taking all things into consideration, we may not, perhaps, claim for our modern whips and kennelmen exceptional virtues, though we all know that they are masters of a strange flow of language when occasion arises. As regards official costume, the men of old were far more gorgeously arrayed than their present day representatives. Doubtless heavy cloth, fine feathers, and handsome horns of office were necessary to the dignity of such men as Turbervile required for the tutors of royal and noble hounds.

Like the King’s hawks, his dogs were sacred; whosoever did them hurt was past praying for under the gentle rule of William the Conqueror and his descendants. Lost hunting dogs were not badgered by men in blue; but they had to be apprehended and taken to the Sheriff, who solemnly proclaimed his prize, that the rightful owner might claim his own on payment of reasonable cost. Should no owner turn up, then the lucky Sheriff laughed gleefully, for he stuck to his prisoner, throwing a solatium to the finder. But most dogs of the chase wore collars in those early times, well guarded with spikes, for the wolf, the boar, the stag, and the wild cat might be met with in any wood; and each collar bore a conspicuous badge, so that restitution was easy.

It is pleasant to find Edward I. making provision for his sick hounds, and at the same time conferring a favour on one of his courtiers. He gave unto Juliana, wife of his liege, John Fitz-Alan, a hide of land in Dorset, in return for which she was bound to tend dogs lamed during hunts in the forest of Blackmore—an arrangement that did honour to the monarch and the lady. It will thus be seen that the endowment of a canine hospital is not an idea peculiar to nineteenth-century humanity. Indeed, it would be difficult to say whether, in this respect, we have improved on our forebears. Italian visitors to the courts of Bluff King Hal, and of his father, described England as the paradise of horses and dogs—though they were rude enough to add that it was the purgatory of servants and the hell of women!

Guy Cadogan Rothery.

The Fourth Estate (Excerpt)

The Benedictine (male and female) monasteries in the German
Empire in that period also underwent financial problems.72 Some
permitted noble women to pay to live in separate quarters within
the nunnery area, sometimes for limited periods, during the
absence of their husbands or fathers, and sometimes, in the case
of widows, for the rest of their days. According to the reports of
bishops who visited monasteries, it seems that these ladies, who
continued to dress in high fashion, who kept their lapdogs and
servants, invited guests and gossiped with them, had a detrimental effect on the nuns. The bishops tried to prevent this custom of
accepting laywomen into the nunneries, but it was generally hard
for these institutions to renounce this welcome source of income.
From the report of the diocesan bishop of Lincoln after a visit to
the priory of Rothwell we learn of a case in which persons
unknown broke into a remote nunnery, dragged out a woman
who resided there and raped her. The nuns who tried to prevent
this deed were cast to the ground, trampled and kicked. The
robes obviously did not always serve to protect a woman, but the
actual deed was sparked off by the lay woman residing in the
nunnery.73 Married couples sometimes also lived in nunneries.
The visiting bishops were particularly scathing about this custom,
fearing that it could arouse ‘lusts of the flesh’ among the nuns.74
The nunneries could make only a limited contribution to the
secular society of their time. Some nunneries maintained schools
and took in both sons and daughters of the nobility and the rich
urban class. If the parents or relatives fulfilled their obligations to
pay the schooling fees and keep (which they sometimes failed to
do), this provided an additional source of income for the house.
Since the pupils were selected exclusively from the upper classes,
the nunneries made no contribution to educating the children of
the poorer strata. Numerically, at least in England, these schools
were few, since the smaller nunneries did not maintain them. In
the Cistercian nunneries in all countries the sisters were forbidden
to teach boys. There were larger numbers of convent schools in
Italian towns. To the extent that the nunneries were prosperous,
they would distribute alms to the poor, as did the male monasteries. Being secluded in their nunneries, the sisters did not work
among the poor, but instead distributed alms to the poor of their
neighbourhood, who came to their gate.
In the Early Middle Ages in the double Benedictine monasteries
and in the twelfth century in the double monasteries of the Premonstratensian order, the sisters aided the monks in caring for
the sick. But, generally speaking, this task was reserved for the
sisterhoods established specifically for this purpose, or for lay sisters who lived in religious communities attached to one of the
monastic orders as a ‘third order’. In the thirteenth century, those
sisters who had accepted the Augustinian rule added a fourth vow
—to tend the sick—to the three they had already taken. In the
early thirteenth century the sick were treated in the famous Hôtel
Dieu in Paris. Nuns were also attached to the order of St John of
Jerusalem, and served in hospitals in the Holy Land, Cyprus and
various European countries. Of the men and women who joined
the Franciscan and Dominican orders in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries as tertiaries, some also tended the sick. In grants
to hospitals in England in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries,
mention is often made of brothers and sisters serving in the hospital: for example, in St Catherine’s hospital in London, St
Bartholomew’s hospital, the Holy Sepulchre hospital, the St Margaret hospital in Gloucester, etc. One should also recall the nuns
who laboured in the Hotel Dieu in Angers from the beginning of
the thirteenth century, and those who served in various leprosaria
in Western Europe.75 But in the Middle Ages the nursing profession was not exclusively female (most hospitals were poorhouses
and homes for the aged more than hospitals in the modern sense
of the word), and women worked there together with men.
We see therefore that in addition to caring for the sick, which
was by no means a characteristic occupation of all nuns, the contribution of female orders to society was relatively restricted and
in no way comparable to that of monks, both in the intellectual
and spiritual spheres and in areas which were closed to sisters,
such as leadership of the Church and missionary activity. It
should be recalled, however, that the original and primary objective of the monastery was activity aimed at saving the soul of the
individual monk or nun, and prayer on behalf of their fellow
human beings. Hence it is not true to say that the female orders
deviated from their original purpose by failing to make a considerable contribution to society in general. The works of guidance
composed for the nuns sometimes state explicitly: do not turn
your nunnery into a school (just as Peter Damian objected to the
existence of schools in monasteries).76 The Franciscans and
Dominicans took a different path, and engaged in evangelical
work, but the women accepted into these orders were never permitted to emulate the monks.
The failure to make a significant contribution to secular society
did not constitute a deviation from the primary aims of the nunnery. There were, however, grave deviations from the rule aimed
at enabling the monk or nun to realize the primary aim of the
order. The degree of deviation differed in the various orders and
in various periods. One can ascertain this from the homiletic literature of the period and from a more reliable source, namely the
reports of bishops or representatives of orders who visited nunneries and subsequently instructed the abbess to correct the flaws.
The homiletic literature of the thirteen and fourteenth centuries
accuses the nuns of manufacturing excuses in order to leave the
nunnery and meet their lovers.77 It is too easy for young men to
gain access to the nunnery. The nuns behave like ladies and are
only interested in their outward appearance. They sing, dance and
make merry with the young men who visit them. It is known that
in some of the nunneries which adopted the Cistercian rule, and
among the Poor Clares, the nuns sometimes kept private maidservants and private property for their own use.78 The abbesses
sometimes went even further, not only living in separate quarters
but also maintaining serving maids who cooked and served them
special meals. The lists of wills also reveal that from time to time
relatives would leave personal legacies to nuns, in addition to
grants to the nunnery.79
According to the reports of visitors to both nunneries and
monasteries of the Benedictine order in England, the prayer times
were not always respected. Nuns and monks tended particularly
to appear tardily to the first prayer of the day, at 2 am, and left
the chapel before the end of the service on various pretexts. Some
would drowse during the prayers, while others recited the prayers
in a rapid gabble in order to shorten the service. The impressions
of the bishops correspond, to a large degree, to the criticism in
homiletic literature where the nuns are accused of vanity, dancing
and keeping lapdogs, all these being regarded as unsuitable for
the nun. The accounts of the nunneries also reveal the purchase of
intoxicating liquor, and outlay on games, torches and musicians
on various festivals, all of these being related to activities prohibited to the sisters. Church synods drew up lists of the articles of
clothing and ornaments which nuns were forbidden to wear, but
to no avail. Fashionable clothing and pet animals (some nuns
kept monkeys, squirrels, birds, and above all lapdogs) did not disappear. Church leaders regarded these phenomena as violations
of discipline and expressions of the sisters’ failure to cast off
worldly things. Many nuns were accused of receiving visitors in
the nunnery, also a reflection of refusal to cut themselves off from
the outside world.
Christine de Pisan draws a picture of life in a French nunnery
which illustrates some of the problems and flaws characteristic of
the nunneries of the age. It is interesting to note that her description is in no way critical. She describes facts simply, as if all were
both normal and desirable. Her picture relates to the Poissy nunnery where her daughter resided. It was founded by Philip iv and
was dedicated to the sainted Louis ix. It had the status of priory,
and the position of priorissa was reserved for the daughter of one
the noblest families or even a member of the royal family. According to Christine, the prioress, Marie de Bourbon, told visitors of
the strictness of the nunnery’s rule. The nuns slept in their robes
on hard mattresses. They were beaten if they did not rise in time
for morning prayer and were usually not permitted to see visitors
except through iron grilles. While the prioress was speaking,
Marie de France, the 8-year-old daughter of Charles iv, entered
the room. She had been received into the nunnery at the age of 5.
The prioress herself lived in separate and most luxurious quarters.
Despite the ban on visitors, Christine’s daughter spent several
hours in complete freedom with her mother and friends. The
guests dined together with the lay residents of the nunnery (their
gourmet meal of delicacies and wine was served on silver and
gold plates). The lay residents with whom they strolled around
the grounds showed the visitors their separate and comfortable
rooms with attractive beds. The nuns served the lay residents and
the visitors during the meal.80
Many nuns were accused of leaving the nunnery without sufficient reason. Madame Eglentyne, head of a small nunnery (and
hence priorissa and not abbatissa), who is one of the characters in
Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, is an example of an elegant nun of
courtly manners, toying with a lapdog and glad of the opportunity to leave the nunnery for weeks at a time in order to go on a
pilgrimage to the tomb of Saint Thomas Becket (in violation of
the orders of the bishops).81 The reports of the bishops reveal that
some nuns, while away from their nunneries, did in fact commit
carnal sins, as the homiletic literature claimed.82 In literature, at
least, the possibility of the birth of bastards to nuns is raised. In
the Galeran poem (a narrative poem from the end of the twelfth
century attributed to Renart) the heroine leaves a cradle in the
nunnery to serve any of the nuns who may give birth.83
But even if sisters sometimes left the nunnery for more innocent
purposes than a meeting with a lover, there can be no doubt that
the desire to flee the nunnery at every possible opportunity was
an expression of lack of spiritual satisfaction and of ennui. If we
compare the reports of visits to monasteries to accounts of visits
to nunneries we see that a considerable proportion of the flaws
were common to both institutions: unsuitable garments, leave
without sufficient pretext and for purposes of meeting with the
opposite sex, entertaining guests beyond the permissible degree,
granting permission to lay persons to reside in the monastery or
nunnery, maintaining private property, consuming alcohol and
lax observance of prayer.84
Direct charges that nuns engaged in lesbian relations were less
common than the charge that monks and priests engaged in
homosexual practices. But in instructions to the nunneries, we
find hints that the authors were aware of the existence (or the possibility of the existence) of this sin among nuns. In the resolutions
of the Church synod in Paris, nuns were forbidden to sleep
together and it was stipulated that a light should burn in the dormitory all night, this regulation having already been introduced
for monks in the Benedictine rule in the sixth century. In the
instructions of the bishops following visits to nunneries in the diocese of Lincoln, the ban on permitting male or female visitors to
spend the night in the dormitory is reiterated. In one of the works
of guidance for nuns they are instructed to sleep fully clothed and
belted. Their detractors accused them directly of lesbian relations.
Pierre Dubois (lawyer and political pamphleteer), who favoured
reducing the number of nunneries and reforming them, claimed
that the implementation of his plan would put an end to several
despicable customs, such as acceptance of candidates into nunneries in return for payment (dowries) and the selection of unsuitable
women for the position of abbess or prioress, and would abolish
certain natural and unnatural sins within the nunneries. A document enumerating the misdemeanours of the Lollards notes that
they thought it preferable for girls and widows to wed rather than
take the veil. Otherwise, being weak and lacking a true sense of
vocation, they committed grave sins such as the practice of lesbianism, bestiality and masturbation with the aid of various
The English nunneries of the fourteenth century were in a state
of cultural decline. Physical labour was carried out in most of
them by lay maid-servants. A large proportion of the nuns
reached the nunnery without a sense of vocation, and thus the
lengthy hours of prayer, uncoloured by spiritual or physical
labour, became nothing but wearisome routine. It is not surprising that the nuns became both idle and inquisitive, as Humbert de
Romans wrote, and that they tried to amuse themselves, as the
visiting bishops noted accusingly.86 In the case of the more innocent amusements they may have been preferable to depression
and irritability. In the absence of the sense of vocation which
alone can create inner satisfaction and acquiescence, the forbidden gaiety was the sole panacea to depression. But the cultural
and moraJ deciine did not afflict all nunneries in that period. In
Germany and the Netherlands the nunneries flourished in the
fourteenth century, as did the non-institutionalized movement of
women. In Germany in that century female monasticism was part
of the contemporary mystical movement. The nuns formed part
of the audience of the great German mystics, Meister Eckhart and
Tauler, and it was they who recorded their sermons in writing.
Copying manuscripts, one of the occupations of the sisters in
many monasteries, called for a certain degree of education, and
there was in fact a certain degree of continuity in the education of
nuns from the beginning of institutionalized female monasticism.
Some acquired learning before entering the nunnery. Those who
entered in childhood learned to read and write and recite their
prayers. Most nuns did not know Latin well, and learned the
prayers and sections of religious literature by heart; what
appeared to be knowledge of Latin was in fact parrot-like repetition. Apart from prayers and hymns in Latin, the nuns in most
nunneries studied selected chapters of the Scriptures, writings of
the Church Fathers, the lives of the saints and founders of the
monastic orders and the translated rule of their order. In the
hours allocated for reading, the nuns read these works. It was
also customary to read aloud in Latin during one of the meals of
the day. The nun who recited to her companions was required to
read fluently, and in some of the nunneries there was one sister
whose task it was to follow the recitation and correct all mistakes. Since the sisters in most nunneries were educated to a certain degree, they were able to engage in copying and illuminating
books. The Cistercian nunneries of Nazareth, near Lierre and La
Ramée, were important centres of illumination and calligraphy in
the first half of the thirteenth century.
It was universally accepted that nuns were granted a certain
degree of education. Even those authors of didactic literature who
were violently hostile to women, and opposed their education in
secular society, favoured educating nuns.87 Abélard, who wanted
nunneries to be ruled by male abbots, also approved of learning
for nuns,88 and at the end of the thirteenth century the provincial
chapter of the German Dominicans decided to appoint learned
brothers to teach the nuns, taking into account the education they
had already acquired. But in the High Middle Ages the monasteries were no longer centres of learning. In the Carolingian period
such monasteries as Fulda, St Gall and St Martin of Tours had
been the main focuses of learning, as the Bec monastery had been
in the eleventh century. Yet in the twelfth century this role was
fulfilled by cathedral schools, and in the thirteenth by the universities and Dominican colleges, which were closed to women, including nuns. In this respect the status of the nun resembled that of
women in general. Nonetheless, there were nuns who continued
to instruct themselves, with the aid of priests and monks from
their own order, and acquired a wider-ranging education than
was usually possible for the sisters. Some of these learned nuns
became mystics and saints, and their writings have survived to
modern times. We will discuss these mystics in greater detail in a
separate section, and in the present context we will dwell only on
the learning of a few of them.
Mechthild of Hackeborn refers in her writings to the Holy
Scriptures, and the works of Origen, St Augustine, Bernard of
Clairvaux and Albertus Magnus. St Gertrude openly repents in
her writings of the time she devoted to the seven liberal arts and,
like many monks, regards herself as having progressed from
grammarian to theologian. In addition to her mystic visions, St
Gertrude wrote summaries of lives of saints and a book of prayer
denoted ‘Spiritual exercises’.
89 Both Mechthild and St Gertrude
wrote in Latin, and both were members of the Cistercian nunnery
of Helfta in Saxony. A third mystic, Mechthild of Magdeburg,
who composed the first mystical work in German, also resided in
this nunnery. Her book Das fliessende Licht der Gottheit (‘The
Flowing Light of God’) strongly influenced German mysticism,
but she was less educated than the above-mentioned women
Hildegard of Bingen, who lived in the first half of the twelfth
century, composed a book of visions, wrote theological works
and engaged in extensive correspondence with her contemporaries, both secular and ecclesiastical. She also wrote a mystery
play, the life of a local saint called Rupert, who gave his name to
her nunnery, and a life of an Irish missionary who practised in the
Rhineland. Also attributed to Hildegard are a medical work and a
collection of musical works, though there is no certainty as to
their authorship. She also illustrated some of her writings. In
these works and in her visions she made use of scientific knowledge, writing or dictating in Latin. Her writings reveal knowledge
of the works of St Augustine, Boethius, Isidore of Seville, Bernard
Silvestris, Aristotle and Galen. In the sections on anatomy she
cited the eleventh-century monk and translator, Constantine the
African, and in depicting the spheres which compose the universe
she cited the works of Messahaiah. As Charles Singer has written,
Hildegard does not distinguish between physical events, moral
truths and spiritual experiences. All is seen as the fruit of inspiration and revelation, as in Dante’s Divine Comedy, but it is possible to trace her sources, just as one can identify those of Dante.90
The flaws in her writings are an over-abundance of comparisons
as a means of establishing a priori proof, an attempt to seek the
archetype of every thing and phenomenon in this world in the
celestial system, and the borrowing of knowledge and views at
second and third remove—but all these are typical weaknesses of
her time which can be found in the works of her male
We have cited several examples of learned nuns whose literary
works have survived them. One could draw up a longer list.
There can be no doubt that a talented nun who so wished could
more easily acquire an education than a lay woman, and the society of her day accepted her learning without objection. Yet even
she was not granted access to institutions of higher learning. The
sisters made no contribution to the scholastic philosophy and theology which were the main fruit of the culture of the High Middle
Ages, nor to legal and scientific studies. The only sphere in which
they made their mark was mysticism. We cannot state with certainty that if institutions of higher learning had been open to
them, they would have made an important contribution to
scholastic philosophy and theology or science. However since
these institutions were closed to them, they were denied the
opportunity from the outset.