1069, Founded and endowed by William the Conqueror “in honour of our Lord Jesus Christ and His Blessed Mother the Virgin Mary and St Germain, the Bishop”—Guido de Raincourt gives the town of Stamford, Northants, to the new monastery at Selby—Other benefactors include Thomas, Archbishop of York; Gilbert Tison, chief standard-bearer of England; and Henry de Lacy, Earl of Lincoln—1189, Richard I. confirms all previous grants—1328, Edward III. ratifies the various liberties and exemptions—1540, Dissolved. Annual revenue, £729, 12s. 10d.—1618, The church made parochial—1690, The tower falls and destroys the south transept and the roof of the south-west aisle—1702, The tower rebuilt—1889-91, The choir restored—1902, The tower rebuilt under the superintendence of the Rev. A. G. Tweedie, Vicar of Selby—1906, Partially destroyed by fire.
The destruction of Selby Abbey by fire in October 1906 is a loss to the nation as well as to the county of York. The late Sir Gilbert Scott, speaking of the abbey, said the building was “of a kind which is more the property of the nation than of a single parish, and one which is of the highest value to the study of ecclesiastical architecture and to the history of art in this country.” It was the most perfectly preserved specimen of a monastic church in England, and attracted archæologists from all parts of the world. The church possessed numerous tombs and monuments of exceptional historic interest and in it could be seen every variety of Gothic church architecture. The collapse of the central tower in 1690, destroying the south transept in its fall, was the first of a series of accidents that culminated in the recent terrible fire. This conflagration, which caused such deplorable injury, broke out in the Latham chapel, in which the new organ had been erected. Though most damage was done in the vicinity of the instrument—not a vestige of which remained—the fire left its mark on every part of the building, having spread from the Latham chapel to the north transept and choir, and from thence to the nave and tower. The choir, built in the 14th century, and one of the noblest examples of Decorated work, suffered much injury, but fortunately the east window—one of the finest specimens in England of a Jesse and Doom window—escaped destruction. The firemen were told to concentrate their efforts on this lovely feature of the building, with the result that the tracery and mullions survived in a more or less perfect condition. The window, happily, had been fully insured after the restoration carried out during the vicariate of the Rev. A. G. Tweedie, who collected £8000 for the purpose, and who also rebuilt other portions of the building. The aisles of the choir were left practically intact, but the north transept lost its roof, seats, and the greater portion of its handsome window. The nave, the last part to be attacked by the relentless flames, retained its pillars and beautiful arches and in many ways has suffered less severely than the rest of the building, though the roof fell and by its fall destroyed the oak benches. The central tower (which ever since its first foundation has been a cause of anxiety on account of its insecurity) lost its roof and floors. It is a matter for congratulation that the west front only suffered comparatively little damage, for its towers were but partially burnt and the glass in the window cracked. The renovation of this ancient Benedictine church, founded by William the Conqueror, was put into the hands of Messrs J. Oldrid Scott & Son, architects, of London, who estimated that £50,000 was necessary for complete restoration. It is indeed to be hoped that this national monument, which until last year was the only monastic building in use as a parish church from Trent to Tweed, may be completely restored, and that the inhabitants of Selby may once more worship in their glorious old abbey church. The nave has already been re-roofed, and was opened on the 19th of October 1907. Of the history of the abbey very little is known, but no account of it would be complete without some reference to its connection with St Germanus. The following interesting extract is taken from Baring Gould’s Lives of the Saints:—
“About the middle of the 11th century, there was a monk of Auxerre, who had a special devotion for St Germanus, and an overwhelming desire to possess for himself a relic of this patron. One night he stole away to the sacred body, and bit off or cut off the middle finger of the right hand. No sooner had he done this, than he was seized with a horror and trembling, and began to smite his breast, with tears and lamentations, beseeching St Germanus to have mercy on him. Then, compelled by a certain necessity, he placed the finger on the altar. The horror-stricken brethren after this secured the body by walls and iron doors, and prepared an ivory case for the finger, in which it was kept over the altar instead of the body, which appears to have been there before.”
“About that time there was a brother named Benedict, to whom St Germanus appeared three times in the visions of the night, and said to him, ‘Go from thy land and from thy kindred, and from this thy father’s house, and come into a land which I shall show thee. There is a place in England, and it is called Selby, provided for my honour, predestined for the rendering of my praise, to be famous for the titles and glory of my name, situated on the bank of the river Ouse, not far distant from the city of York. There I have provided and chosen a founder for my name, and thou shalt found for thyself a cell upon the royal land, which pertains to the right of the king. And fear not to undertake alone so great and such a peregrination; for, believe me, thou shalt be comforted by my companionship, strengthened by my counsel, defended by my protection. My finger which is over the altar, thou shalt carry with thee in memory of me, and that thou mayest be able to do this securely and without fear of losing it, thou shalt with a knife make an opening in thy arm between the elbow and the shoulder, and therein place the finger. Nor do thou tremble to do this, for thou shalt neither shed blood nor suffer pain.’ Benedict disregarded the vision the first and second time, but the third time the saint reproved him so severely for his negligence, that he set off at once, commending himself to God and St Germanus, and carrying off the finger without saying a word to anyone. Great was the consternation, loud the lamentations, long and diligent the search, when it was found the finger had disappeared. Then it occurred to them to pursue Benedict, and at last they overtook him and questioned him. He altogether denied having been guilty of any sacrilege; but nevertheless they searched his clothes. And not being able to find the relic, they returned in confusion to Auxerre, while he made a prosperous journey to England with his precious treasure. But the result of his inquiries on the road was his finding himself at Salisbury instead of Selby. Here he was most honourably entertained by a citizen named Edward, who loaded him with many precious gifts, the chief of which was a gold reliquary of wonderful workmanship, in which the finger was to be kept, and where it was kept at Selby when the account was written. When, however, he began to ask where York was, and which was the river Ouse, he discovered that he had not yet reached the place of which he had been told in the vision. And being sorely troubled thereat, he was comforted by another vision of St Germanus appearing to him with a smiling countenance, and saying, ‘I said not unto thee Salisbury, but that thou shouldest ask for Selby.’ And then, says the chronicler, ‘whether in the body or whether out of the body I cannot tell; God knoweth,’ Benedict was transported to Selby, where the Saint said to him, ‘Here shall be my rest for ever, here will I dwell, for I have a delight therein.’ However, in the morning Benedict was still at Salisbury. A few days after, he was shown the way to Lymington by a priest named Theobald, and there he found a ship bound for York, in which he sailed. They had a prosperous voyage, and no sooner did they approach Selby than Benedict at once recognised it as the place he had seen in the vision. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘is the place which the Lord hath chosen; here let me land.’ And no sooner had he set his foot on the bank, than he set up the Cross under a great oak, called by the natives Strihac, about A.D. 1069, the fourth year of William the Conqueror, Here the chronicler expatiates on the beauties of the situation, the sweetness of the waters, the abundance of fish, the commodity of water transport. The very best of stone can easily be brought for building, and everything that goes to York from foreign parts, or from any port in England, has to go by Selby. And first Benedict built a little cell, where he offered continually praises to the most sacred finger, which had since his arrival made a dumb man speak. One day, a nobleman, named Hugh, passing that way, asked him what the cross meant. This led to a firm friendship between them, and they built an oratory in honour of St Germanus. Then Hugh took Benedict and introduced him to King William, who received him most kindly, and gave him one carucate of land at Selby, the wood Flaxey, the ville Rawcliffe, half a carucate in Braydon, and the fishery of Whitgift. Benedict now returned, set up workshops about his chapel, and many left their worldly employments to help in the construction of greater buildings. At this time there was in the neighbouring woods a gang of robbers, led by one Sevam, the son of Sigge. Sevam tried to break into Benedict’s cell at night; but his hand stuck to the wall, and there he remained trembling till morning, when he was only set at liberty on making a vow that he would never offend the blessed Germanus again. A nobleman’s son was cured of epilepsy by a touch of the holy finger. In the ninth year of Henry I. there was a great flood in the river Ouse, after a sudden thaw. It came on so rapidly that when the bell rang for matins there was nothing of it to be seen; but before the office was over, the cloisters were flooded. The chapel being nearer the river was in great danger of being washed away, for water continued to rise for fifteen days. But within the chapel it never prevailed further than the altar step, though it had been two cubits higher outside than in. In the time of the Abbot Helias (circ. 1150), one who sacrilegiously tried to break into the church, died of a torturing sickness in three days. A similar chastisement overtook a soldier named Foliot, who stole a horse from the churchyard. Another soldier who kidnapped a captive from the church, was afflicted with contracted limbs, and in fact no one who presumed in any way to offend St Germanus escaped his scourge. In an attack upon the ‘castle’ it was set fire to, and the chapel of the saint only saved with the greatest difficulty. All captives who had faith in St Germanus soon escaped by his help. A furrier of Pontefract found his fetters drop off, so also a little boy detained as a hostage, and a cleric in bonds for his father, and others. In the time of the Abbot Germanus (circ. 1160), one Martin, who was nearly tortured to death, was made quite well in three days. A pack-horse crossing the bridge with some of the brethren who were going out on a preaching tour, slipped into the river, and when with great labour they had pulled him out, the vestments, relics, etc., in the chests on his back were found to have been miraculously preserved from wetting. Another time they were carrying the feretory on a waggon, which ran over a child of two years old and killed it on the spot. The Lord Prior exclaimed, ‘Holy Germanus, what hast thou done? We preach that thou dost raise the dead; but now, on the contrary thou killest the living.’ They fell to prayers, the child was placed on the ground under the feretory, and was very soon as well as if nothing had happened. While on this journey they passed the night in a certain church where a recluse dwelt in a cell in the wall. To her the saint appeared in her sleep, and described his home at Selby, especially the churchyard planted with nut-trees, all which she was able to relate in the morning to one of the Selby brethren named Ralph, and by this token to prove a commission she had from St Germanus to rebuke him for dissoluteness and levity. To a hostess who entertained them, the saint appeared and rebuked her for not treating his servants with sufficient consideration. And a certain canon who had nearly died of a quartan ague was cured by drinking water in which the relics had been washed.”
1136, Founded by William de Gross, Earl of Albemarle and Lord of Holderness—1150, Colonised by monks from Fountains under Abbot Adam and dedicated to St Mary—1317, Richard de Otringham gives land and money to the monastery—1349, The community visited by plague and earthquake, and its numbers greatly reduced—1360, Many valuable tracts of land belonging to the monastery are lost through the inundations of the Humber and encroachments of the sea—15—, Dissolved. Annual revenue, £299, 6s. 4d.
Meaux, three miles north of Beverley, in the East Riding of Yorkshire, was called after a town of the same name in Normandy by those Normans, who, coming over with the all-victorious Conqueror, settled in this part of the country. William de Gross, founder of the abbey, was practically the lord of all Yorkshire. Having been prevented, owing to his many years, from fulfilling a vow made in his youth to journey to Jerusalem, he built and endowed this abbey of which only a fragment of a wall remains, although traces of the foundation of the church are discernible. Some interesting relics have been discovered on the site, including tomb slabs and tessellated pavements which are now preserved in an adjacent house.
Meaux Abbey is fortunate in having a faithful and authentic record of its history from its establishment to the reign of Henry VI. This folio volume, written in Latin at the end of the 15th century, is preserved in the British Museum and records many marvellous events. Superstition or faith—who shall say which?—must have inspired narrations such as the following:—“About the first hour there appeared in the sky three circles and two suns; and a dragon of immense size was seen in St Osyth (Osey Island, Essex) sailing the air so close to the earth, that divers houses were burnt by the heat which proceeded from him.” This alarming manifestation is said to have occurred “in the tenth year of Henry II.,” while previously, in the reign of Stephen, “a certain soldier, by name Oswey, chanced to have obtained admission into St Patrick’s Purgatory; and upon his return he gave an account of the joys and pains which he had witnessed there.”
The community at Meaux Abbey was severely stricken by the plague in 1349—only ten of the thirty-two monks being left. The same year, a great earthquake “threw the monks so violently from their stalls that they all laid prostrate on the ground.” About the year 1360 the monastery lost large tracts of land, owing to the encroachments of the sea. It would seem as if Meaux escaped the depredations and attacks of marauders and enemies only to fall prey to every possible form of the ravages of nature.
1132, Thirteen monks leave the Abbey of St Mary’s, York, and found a monastery of the Cistercian Order in Skeldale—1134, Hugh, Dean of York, bequeaths his wealth to the Brotherhood—1137, Serlo and Tosti, Canons of York, become benefactors to the abbey. In the following years kings and popes endow it with various privileges—1140, The house consumed by fire—1204, Restorations are commenced and the foundations of the church laid—1247, The church completed by Abbot John of Kent—In the 13th and 14th centuries members of the House of Percy become patrons of, and benefactors to, the abbey—1540, Abbot Bradley surrenders the abbey and receives a pension of £100 per annum. Annual revenue, £998, 6s. 8d.—After being sold by Henry VIII. to Sir Richard Gresham and passing through the hands of various families, the Abbey purchased by William Aislabie, Esq., of Studley Royal, who annexes the ruins to his own estate, both being now in the possession of the Marquis of Ripon.
Fountains Abbey is one of the earliest and most important of the houses belonging to the Cistercian order, an order which was under the immediate control of the Bishop of Rome, and which was introduced into England in the year 1129. After that time very few, if any, houses of the Benedictine order were founded in this country. The rules of the Benedictine and Cluniac orders having apparently become somewhat relaxed, it was found necessary to form new orders in which stricter observance should be paid to the original purpose of such religious houses—to personal self-denial for the good of others—to the fulfilment of the monastic vows of poverty, chastity and obedience—while less attention should be given to the attainment of worldly prosperity. These new orders—the Cistercian and Carthusian—settled in thinly populated districts, whereas the Benedictine and Cluniac orders built their houses as a rule in the vicinity of some town or trading centre. Robert de Molême is supposed to have founded at Citeaux the chief monastery of the Cistercian Order, although its popularity dates from the 12th century when St Bernard joined the community. The wave of sanctity which led Robert de Molême to Citeaux spread till it reached York and the Abbey of St Mary—then under the rule of St Benedict. Seven monks, wearied of the relaxed rules of the house, banded themselves together to observe stricter rules, eventually taking council with their prior, Richard, whom they found to be in sympathy with their aims. Violent discussions followed between the abbot and the prior and his associates, till in 1132 Prior Richard appealed to Thurstan, Archbishop of York. Thurstan was refused admittance to the abbey, while the monks prepared to drag Richard and his companions to the monastery cells. The archbishop came to their rescue, and with his help the thirteen brethren freed themselves for ever from their self-indulgent home. They were given land in the valley of the Skell—then a wilderness of rocks and trees—and could only depend upon chance means of subsistence. Their sole shelter was seven yew trees—some of which still remain—but after a while they began to build a hut under an elm tree, which had at one time furnished not only their shelter but their food. Far away from any inhabited place, and dependent on the bounty of the archbishop, they began to suffer great privations. A famine spread over England and the monks had to live chiefly on herbs and elm leaves, reserving any better food for the workmen who were finishing the building of their house. During the absence of Richard at Clairvaux—whence he had gone to ask St Bernard for work and shelter for his monks—Hugh, Dean of York, fell sick and ordered himself to be taken to Fountains, carrying with him money, valuables, and many books. When the abbot returned from France, he and his monks resolved to remain in Skeldale, where they were joined in course of time by Serlo and Tosti, Canons of York, whose wealth greatly enriched the abbey. Within three years of their arrival beside the Skell, the monks of Fountains had acquired land and riches.
Though the Cistercian abbeys do not contain so much rich moulding, nor in any way approach the intricate workmanship of the great Benedictine abbeys, the austere dignity and simple grandeur make the Cistercians’ work every whit as imposing and beautiful as that of the earlier orders. What ruins of a Benedictine house can compare with the grace of those of Tintern, Whitby, Newstead, and Fountains Abbeys, built by the Cistercian or “White monks”?
The cultivated surroundings of Fountains Abbey help in great measure to place it in the foremost rank of the many beautiful ruins in England. Surrounded by thickly-wooded trees, from which many delightful and unexpected glimpses of the ruins may be descried, the Abbey of St Mary’s stands in grounds of which words fail to describe the enchantment and many beauties. A level piece of land, watered by the river Skell, extends immediately beyond the ruins, but in all directions, green slopes, and gentle, leafy eminences meet the eye, while in the far distance the Yorkshire wolds form a dark and effective background to the grey stone of the picturesque ruins. The skeleton of the lofty northern tower gives a sense of completeness to the ruins, and helps to create the illusion, when viewing the abbey from a distance, that the edifice has suffered but little from the ravages of time. On closer inspection it will be seen that sufficient is yet in good preservation to show the spaciousness and loftiness of the various apartments, and the admirable proportions of the abbey church. This imposing edifice measures 385 feet by 67 feet, and is composed of a nave of eleven bays, divided from its aisles by massive columns of Norman Transitional work. Above is a clerestory formed of round-headed lights resting on the string course. A Galilee of the same period stood at the west end of the nave, and in it were interred, as at Canterbury, the bodies of the primates. The transepts had each two chapels, and adjoining the north wing, a tower of four stages was built in the 15th and 16th centuries by Abbot Marmaduke Huby. John of York built the aisleless choir in the 15th century. Beyond it is the magnificent Lady chapel, 150 feet in length, in which Abbot John of Kent placed nine altars as in Durham Cathedral. The great east window, now a blank, is of Perpendicular work. In addition to the church are many most interesting buildings. Foremost among these are the celebrated cloisters on the western side of the cloister garth. The vaulting here is still intact, and covers a nave of two aisles, divided by a range of columns. The almost subterranean gloom is lighted by several lancet-windows, themselves enveloped in thick foliage. The cloister garth is 126 feet square, the church being on the north side, the chapter-house on the east, the refectory, the frater house, kitchen, and other offices opening on to the south side, while the cloisters, which span the river here, are on the west side. Three tiers of seats still remain in the chapter-house, which was built in rectangular form by Abbot Fastolph in 1153, and formerly divided into aisles by ten marble columns. The Early English refectory is an apartment of noble dimensions, consisting of a nave and two aisles. On the northern side, the reading gallery from which the Scriptures were read to the monks during their meals can still be seen. To the east of this is the vaulted frater house (Transitional Norman), and beyond again is the staircase which led to the “Hall of Pleas.” The 13th century bridge which spans the Skell, leads to a fragment of the gate-house—whilst portions of the infirmary, guest-hall and other buildings also remain. When complete, the abbey covered twelve acres of ground, its possessions reaching from Pennicent to St Wilfrid’s lands at Ripon—a distance of thirty miles. In Craven as much as 60,000 acres belonged to the abbey. Though now deprived of its possessions and shorn of its former glory, Fountains Abbey is unrivalled in the extent of its domain and is the object of every care on the part of its present owner. The small fee exacted from all who visit the ruins keeps the beautiful grounds in a condition worthy of the treasured relic which they surround.
1120, Monastery founded and endowed at Embsay by William de Meschines and his wife Cecile, and dedicated to the Blessed Virgin and St Cuthbert—1151, Canons remove to Bolton, where Alice de Romillé exchanges land with them, for the purpose of erecting a priory to the memory of her son—1308, Edward II. confirms the grants conferred upon the abbey by various benefactors—1540, Dissolved. Annual revenue, £212, 3s. 4d.
Of this magnificent priory (incorrectly called abbey) very little is left standing. The ruins possess, however, an attraction and a charm peculiarly their own, and of the many abbeys for which Yorkshire is famous, not one holds so high place in popular favour as Bolton. History, tradition, and sentiment alike have contributed to this estimation. Picturesquely situated in Wharfedale, the ruins of the abbey stand on a slightly elevated meadowland, past which the river Wharfe flows in a bend, after raging through its rock-bound bed higher up in the valley, and leaping over precipitous cliffs. Some stepping-stones, placed there no doubt by the monks, afford an easy means of crossing the river below the abbey. Surrounding hills protect this ancient house of prayer—enclosing it on three sides by Simon’s Seat, Barden Fell, and the thickly wooded hills of Bolton Park.
Part of the original nave of Bolton Priory has been converted into the present parish church—the choir and transepts are, however, in a ruinous state. The remains of the Perpendicular east window (overlooking the Wharfe) and of the Perpendicular tower at the west end are of later date than the rest of the ruin. The tower was in course of erection by the last abbot, Richard Moon, when, in the 16th century, the dread order for dissolution fell upon the abbey. The superstructure has fallen, but in the lower portion a large Perpendicular window of five lights in two tiers, placed within panelled buttresses, still remains. Over the entrance to the tower may be seen the arms of
the house of Clifford, a family always friendly to the monks. It is evident that the refectory was to the south of the sacred structure, the dormitory and store cellar toward the west, and other offices on the east side. On the south side of the nave, signs of conventual buildings are to be seen. This side of the church is of more ancient date than that of the north, and boasts six beautiful lancet-windows in the clerestory. At the east end of the north aisle is a chantry to the Mauleverer family, whose bodies were, it is said, buried standing—
An engraving of Landseer’s famous picture “Bolton Abbey in the Olden Times,” was at one time on the walls of every middle-class dwelling, and to-day it is one of the select few dear to the cottager’s heart. This throws a side-light on the affection which the toilers of the West Riding have for Bolton. Taking their history from the picture, they doubtless look upon Bolton as a place where abundant good cheer was the daily rule. Some colour is lent to this by the Compotus, or household book of Bolton Priory still in the possession of the Duke of Devonshire, a list of the members of the household and its expenses during the years 1290-1325. Such items as 636 quarterns of malted oats used in one year’s brewing, and 1800 gallons of wine, bought for a similar period, naturally suggest a generous course of life, especially when it is remembered that the ecclesiastics (réligieux) did not exceed two dozen in number. But Bolton was nevertheless a large establishment. The prior was attended by twenty gentleman-retainers, each with his body servant. Scores of other servants had various duties on the priory estates, and these were daily supplied by the priory. The prior in short was a great feudal dignitary, who kept state in accordance with that position. No small part of his expenses must have been incurred in entertainment, the monastery being ever open to all and sundry, and the Compotus tells us that the visit of a single hunting party was responsible for the consumption of twenty-two quarters of wheat. We do not find that much money went on books, the purchase of but three being recorded in the thirty-five years covered by the Compotus. On the other hand Bolton did its share in the preparation of illuminated manuscripts, the same faithful authority telling of various purchases of gold, colours, and inks.
Historical criticism, so fatal to popular story, has not left Bolton unvisited. Wordsworth has consecrated the time-worn tradition of the Boy of Egremont, drowned by the straining of his dog in the leash whilst attempting to jump the Strid. Some such incident doubtless occurred, for minute detail is not wanting, as for example that young Romillé had gained the other side but was pulled into the swift stream by the resisting hound—a not improbable story when the scene is before us. Sentiment is still aroused by the story of the forester who bore the dread news to the mother and began, “What is good for a bootless bene?” receiving the prophetic reply, “Endless sorrow” in answer to that ominous opening. The first madness of grief passed, the Lady Alice de Romillé, after the fashion of those days, transferred the religious foundation of her father, William de Meschines and her mother, the heiress Cecile de Romillé, from Embsay to Bolton, housing the good monks in sumptuous quarters in memory of him who had been heir to the vast de Romillé possessions. But whatever substratum of truth there may be in the whole romantic legend, it is established by historical documents that her only son William de Romillé (and in the legend the Boy of Egremont is the younger of the two) was a consenting party to the transfer of estates whereby in 1151 the monks of Embsay entered into possession of Bolton. What of romantic tradition is further associated with Bolton lingers round the name of the Shepherd Lord, though this legend has strictly speaking no connection, save in popular fancy, with the priory itself. Most visitors to Bolton, however, naturally walk the four miles of exquisite river scenery between the abbey and Barden Tower—an old possession of the Cliffords. These fierce supporters of the Lancastrian cause came, for the moment, to grief with the triumph of the Yorkist party at Tewkesbury. The youthful heir was smuggled away into the wilds of Cumberland, and then hid and cherished by some faithful retainer. With the settlement of Henry VII., young Clifford, rough and untutored, was revealed as the heir and received the family estates. Quiet and contemplative by nature, he spent much time at Barden, and being devoted to astronomy received the reputation among the simple folk of the district of being an astrologer and magician, though his constant association with the canons of Bolton should have saved him from the imputation.
Bolton was included in the Act of 1539, and early in the next year Richard Moon surrendered his possessions into the hands of the Crown. How far Bolton was open to the grave charges levelled at monastic institutions as a whole we do not know. What is certain, is, that the number of canons in residence had declined, and with them the revenues likewise. The estates were sold in 1542 to Henry Clifford, Earl of Cumberland, and held by his successors till 1635, when they passed by marriage to the Earls of Burlington, and by marriage again in 1748 to their present owners, the ducal house of Devonshire. There are monuments near the priory to the memory of a distinguished member of this family, the unfortunate Lord Frederick Cavendish, assassinated in the Phœnix Park, Dublin, 1882.
1147, Founded by Henry de Lacy—1540, Surrendered by John Ripley, last abbot, to the Commissioners of Henry VIII. Annual revenue, £329, 2s. 11d.—1889, Colonel North buys the abbey from the Earl of Cardigan, and presents it to the Corporation of Leeds.
Perhaps no abbey has a more uninteresting history or less result to show of labour undertaken, than this monastic house of St Mary’s in Airedale. Certainly the populous city of Leeds has the advantage of possessing a very necessary lung for her toilers in the cool retreat and quiet shade of the abbey grounds. The site of the abbey would at its foundation, and for many centuries afterwards, be a very beautiful one; for then the river flowed between gently rising hills in a well-wooded part of Airedale, where now a forest has sprung up in every direction, not of stately trees, alas! but of multitudinous chimneys, houses, etc.; and though these only extend a part of the way between the heart of Leeds and Kirkstall, they are well in sight when the ruins are reached, while these again are surrounded by numbers of the jerry-built monstrosities so beloved by the modern master builder. How different the aspect must have been even in 1770 when Gray thus describes his visit.
“It was a delicious quiet valley: there are a variety of chapels and remnants of the Abbey, shattered by the encroachments of the ivy, and surrounded by many a sturdy tree, whose twisted roots break through the fret of the vaulting and hang streaming from the vaults. The gloom of these ancient cells, the shade and verdure of the landscape, the glittering and murmur of the stream, the lofty towers and long perspectives of the church in the midst of a clear bright day detained me for many hours.”
The abbey lies on a level piece of land on the right bank of the river if approached from Leeds; and
though its dark and reverend walls form the centre of a pleasure ground, not a whit of its dignity is dispelled, nor is its solemnity intruded upon by the sight of the usual seats, refreshment stalls, penny-in-the-slot machines and placards imploring visitors not to walk on the grass, common in such places. No ancient building could more easily be restored than Kirkstall, but when, if ever, this most desirable necessity will be accomplished it is impossible to guess.
The ruins, now stripped of the clinging ivy have an area of 340 feet north to south, by 445 feet east to west, and are an example of Transitional Norman work. They include a quadrangle or cloister of considerable size, on the west of which was an ambulatory with a dormitory above; also a chapter-house—a fine apartment in a fairly good state of preservation; portions of the refectory, the kitchen and lavatory.
Of the church not very much remains, but quite sufficient to show the visitor that in its maturity it must have been of noble and imposing dimensions characterised by the dignified simplicity of all the churches of the Cistercian order. The nave, divided from its aisles by massive columns, is long and lofty, and in times past must have been but dimly lighted by its small round-headed windows of single lights in the clerestory. In each end of the transepts are two stages of triple lights. The choir is aisleless, and of a central tower, unskilfully restored in the reign of Henry VII., only a portion remains—the rest having fallen in 1779. The west front has a deeply recessed Norman door of five orders, and two aisle windows also of the same period. The stately gate-house, north-west of the abbey, part of which is Abbot Alexander’s work, is now converted into a farm-house.
There is much to interest the student of architecture at Kirkstall—and possibly some among the masses of people who resort there at holiday time may appreciate these sermons in stones. The principal historical interest of the abbey is associated with its foundation. It was never distinguished for its benefactions, nor for its learning, and its historical records do not enlighten one as to whether it served any useful purpose whatever. Legend tells the following story of the occupation of its site by Saleth the hermit. In obedience to a voice which bade him “Arise, go into the province called York, and there search diligently until thou findest a valley called Airedale, and a place therein called Kirkstall, where thou shalt provide a place for the future habitation of brethren to serve Jesus of Nazareth, the Saviour of the world,” Saleth, with a few others, founded a hermitage. This retreat was discovered by Alexander, former prior of Fountains, to whom had been granted by Henry de Lacy, Baron of Pontefract, land at Barnoldswick as a thank-offering for recovery from illness. The community (which he had settled at Barnoldswick) was harassed in so many ways that Alexander, its abbot, determined to seek fresh pastures—and so pleased was he with the combination of wood and stream in this particular spot of Airedale, that he begged his patron Henry to sanction the removal of the house from Barnoldswick to Kirkstall. Henry agreed readily, and after laying the foundation of the building with his own hands, continued his favours and endowments, providing subsequently for a lamp to be kept burning day and night before the high altar. After the death of de Lacy and Alexander, the monks of Kirkstall had many anxious experiences. By 1284 the community was over £4000 in debt—this sum, however, was reduced in the course of less than twenty years to £160 by the exertions of Abbot Hugh Grimstone.
After the abbey was surrendered in 1540, the site and demesnes passed through various hands—among others the Saviles of Howley, the ducal house of Montague, and the Earls of Cardigan, a member of which noble family sold them to the “Nitrate King,” Colonel North, on whose suggestion, and at whose cost, they are now the property and, we trust, the proud possession of the citizens of Leeds.
710, Founded by Queen Sexburga, widow of Ercombert, King of Kent, on land given to her by her son Edward—Benedictine nuns established here—885, Danes burn the Abbey Church and disperse the nuns—1130, William de Corbeuil, Archbishop of Canterbury, restores the monastery and church—15—, Dissolved. Annual revenue, £129, 7s. 10d.—1881, Restored.
THESE ruins, containing the remains of what is probably the most ancient abbey church in England, stand on the north coast of the isle of Sheppey near Kent. In former times the monastery, dedicated to St Mary and St Sexburga, was situated about the centre of the island, but is now, owing to the rapid encroachments of the sea, not so far inland. Sheppey, or “isle of sheep,” a barren, treeless island, is eleven miles long, and is bounded by the ocean to the north and east, the Thames and Medway to the west, and the Swale to the south. Very little of the conventual church exists in the present somewhat peculiarly constructed building, which consists of two aisles, a south porch, and an unfinished tower at the west end. The middle wall of the church, with its Saxon windows, was formerly the south wall of the original Saxon building, this being pierced in 1130 to allow of the addition of St Katherine’s aisle. Many alterations took place in the 15th century, when also the erection of the present tower was begun. At this time the nuns used the north side of the church, whilst the south side was appropriated by the parish folk. Nowadays one aisle forms both chancel and nave.
Among the many interesting memorials in this church may be mentioned a Decorated tomb in the south wall, on which lies a cross-legged effigy, supposed to be Sir Robert de Shurland, knight banneret in the time of Edward I.; an effigy in Purbeck marble of a knight who holds in his hand a symbol representing a soul in prayer; and also, in the chancel, a monumental brass of the 14th century. The latter commemorates Sir John de Northwode and Joan his wife. De Northwode was knighted by Edward I. at the siege of Caerlaserock in 1300. The knight’s shield hangs on his left hip, instead of on his arm, from which fact we may infer the brass to be of French origin, the French knights of that day having adopted the custom known as “Ecu eu Cauteil.” Sir John’s lady wears a fur-lined mantle, and the stiff wimple covering her neck and throat, which was then the mark of widowhood, indicates that she survived her husband. In the 13th century the legs of the knight having entirely disappeared they were replaced by modern ones with very incongruous effect, and in addition to this ill-judged restoration, a strip was cut out of the middle of the effigy in order to make the knight’s figure correspond in size to his lady’s.
1148, Founded by Stephen and Maud—Dedicated to St Saviour—153—, Dissolved—The site given to Sir Thomas Cheney, Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports—The greater part of the monastical buildings pulled down. Annual revenue, £286, 12s. 6d.
The town of Faversham, formerly a Saxon centre of some importance, and situated on the river Swale, south of the Isle of Thanet, contains some scanty ruins of an abbey, in the precincts of which were buried its founder, King Stephen, as also his Queen and son. Faversham was known in Saxon times as “Favresfield,” and there, in 930, King Athelstan held a Wittenagemot, or council of wise men. The town sheltered a succession of royal and distinguished visitors in the 16th and 17th centuries—amongst others, Mary, Queen of France, King Henry VIII., with Catherine of Aragon, Cardinal Wolsey and Warham, Archbishop of Canterbury. Queen Elizabeth “lay two nights” there. Nor was the place less favoured by the succeeding house of Stuart, for Charles II. dined with the Mayor of Faversham in 1660 at an expense to the town of £56, 0s. 6d. In the year 1688 James II. was arrested at Faversham whilst making his first attempt to leave England after the landing of the Prince of Orange.
At the time of the Dissolution of the monasteries, the site of this Cluniac monastic house and its adjoining lands came into the possession of Sir Thomas Cheney, Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, and by him they were afterwards alienated to Thomas Ardern, the hero of probably the most notable domestic tragedy ever dramatised in this country. There are three old editions of the drama, and at least one popular ballad on the subject. Thomas Ardern came from the neighbourhood of Canterbury to Faversham at the age of 56, with a wife 30 years his junior—who became so blindly infatuated with one Mosbie that “with callous depravity and cruelty she engaged hirelings to despatch her husband during the fair of St Valentine.” It says little for the morality of Faversham and its neighbourhood that no less than ten persons of decent social position were found ready to lend themselves to the murderous undertaking. Eight of these were in the long run actually executed. “Ardern of Faversham” (1592) is a drama of very slight pretension to literary art, and the republication of 1887 adds further errors to those of the original carelessly printed drama.
1067, Built and endowed by William the Conqueror—Rebuilt in the time of the Plantagenets in the form of a large quadrangle, one side of which was, after the Dissolution, converted into a private house by Sir Anthony Browne. Annual revenue £880, 14s. 7d.—1857, Sir Harry Fane restores the abbey and converts it into a mansion.
Battle Abbey was founded in 1067 by William I. in gratitude to God for the victory vouchsafed to the Norman arms at Hastings “that perpetual praise and thanks might be given to God for the said victory and prayers made for the souls of those who were slain” (Dugdale’s Monasticon). Of the few remaining portions of the abbey buildings, the grand entrance gate, consisting of a three-storeyed tower, embattled with octagonal turrets of the late Decorated period, is still in a good state of preservation. Adjoining it are the monastic offices, with square windows and an embattled parapet. A short drive from the abbey gate brings one to the Abbot’s Lodge—of picturesque and mediæval aspect, although hardly any of the ancient features are intact. The Abbot’s Lodge is now the residence of the Duchess of Cleveland, in whose absence only, the interior is open to visitors. The great hall is remarkable in its proportions—being as high as it is long—but all its details show signs of modern restoration. A few ruins lying a little to the south of the house are known as the old refectory. These are the remains of a fine Early English building, of which the roof has unfortunately disappeared, and beneath it are some vaulted crypts—also of the same period. During the excavations in 1817 the foundations of the eastern part of the abbey church were exposed, disclosing a triple apse and several bases of a crypt. Of the abbey church hardly one stone remains, its former site being now a flower garden.
William the Conqueror had planned the erection of the abbey on a vast scale, intending to endow it with sufficient land to maintain seven score monks. Several Benedictine monks were transported from Marmontier in Normandy, and one of their number, Gausbertus, elected abbot. Many privileges were granted to the abbey by its royal founder, including sanctuary; freedom from the Bishop’s jurisdiction, treasure trove, and to the abbot, the right to forgive any condemned thief he might meet going to execution. According to some accounts William was present at the consecration of the abbey—while other historians write of that ceremony as taking place in 1094, seven years after the king’s death. The Roll of Battle Abbey was supposed to be a list of the barons, and other eminent persons, who accompanied the Conqueror to England, and to have been compiled by the monks of Battle and hung up in their monastery. An English version of some verses referring to the Roll was inscribed on a tablet in the parish church of Battle and ran thus:—