The ‘fourteenth century revival’ is perhaps too dignified a name for the feeble efforts at reformation in the majority of English monasteries. Most houses failed utterly to arrest the decay that had set in during the thirteenth century, and for the rest of their existence underwent a slow internal dissolution which was merely consummated by the measures of Henry VIII. To this rule there were exceptions. At Bury St. Edmunds,8 for instance, while John Tymworth was abbot (1379–1390), there was a marked revival accompanied by a little outburst of chronicle writing. More important was the recovery of St. Albans, where a conscious effort towards reform is the main thread of its history. The reigns of four abbots which cover the first half of the century witnessed the restoration of discipline: the long abbacy of Thomas de la Mare (1349–1396) was devoted to the repair of the Abbey finances, which had been depleted by the frequent vacancies. The steps by which first the rule, and then the finances, were strengthened indicate considerable continuity of reforming purpose in successive abbots.

The regulations issued by John de Maryns9 (1302–1308) for the reform of the convent and cells reveal the extent of the decay. The rule of silence, it appears, had been all but forgotten; swearing had grown common, and monks, forgetful of their vow of poverty, were found to possess private property. In the cells the state of affairs was even more deplorable. Brethren were known to insult the priors, whose authority had grown too weak to ensure adequate punishment of offenders. Reference is made to the existence of immorality in the convent. It was necessary to prohibit brethren from intercourse with women, from wandering about singly, and from drinking in the town. The possession of greyhounds for hunting was also forbidden.

Such was the condition of the convent and cells in the first years of the century. Abbot Maryns, though willing and anxious to carry out the necessary reformation, was not strong enough to enforce his will upon the monks. Moreover, the penalties prescribed for offences in his regulations were wholly inadequate, and to this must be attributed the persistence of the evils which they were intended to cure.

The decline of discipline during the last years of the thirteenth century had been accompanied by a loosening of the authority of the mother abbey over its cells. It appears that some of them were not prepared to admit even a nominal dependence on the abbot. Making as its pretext the huge exactions of Hugh of Eversdon (Maryns’ successor), the cell of Binham,10 led by its Prior, William Somerton, and supported by the local gentry, broke into open revolt. A long contest followed, with appeals to both King and Pope, but in the end the abbot was successful. The rebellious priory was brought back to its allegiance, and Hugh of Eversdon proceeded systematically to extract formal submissions from the several cells. A grave feature of the quarrel with Binham was the influence exerted by Thomas of Lancaster, Sir Hugh Despenser, and various notables who contrived more than once to force the hand of the abbot. The interference of laymen in the affairs of the monastery is a sure sign of its weakness.

Abbot Hugh was a poor creature to govern so great a House. Avaricious, vain, extortionate, a pampered favourite of Edward II, he oppressed the cells and exasperated the townsmen. On his death in 1327 the latter broke into revolt. The whole of England was at this time in a state of anarchy and wretchedness only too clearly reflected in the condition of St. Albans. The House was desperately poor and burdened with debt, and the moral condition of the monks is admitted by the chronicler to have been very low. Degeneracy, in fact, had gone to greater lengths than at the beginning of the century. The Constitutions of Abbot Wallingford11 deal with the most elementary rules of conduct and morality, the frequent breach of which could be the only reason for their publication. The Abbot, however, was a saintly man, and made persistent efforts to correct abuses. In a formal visitation of the cells he punished severely all cases of incontinence, and having compiled two books of statutes, did his best to enforce them. The monks, unused to so strict a master, grumbled at Wallingford’s severity, but before his death matters had begun definitely to mend. In his later years he even had leisure to turn his attention to the cells. The Priory of Redburn was completely re-organised, and the government of the dependent house of St. Mary de Prez systematised for the first time.

Michael de Mentmore (1335–1349), who succeeded Richard Wallingford as abbot, continued the work of reform on the lines laid down by his predecessor, devoting much attention to the cells. He did what he could to make the life of the leper brethren of St. Julian more tolerable, and drew up a new rule for the nuns of Sopwell. A peculiar interest attaches to the rule of this Michael Mentmore. His local effort towards reform came into contact with the wider attempt of Pope Benedict XII to improve the Benedictine Order. With the increasing lethargy of the Black Monks, the intervals between General Chapters had grown greater and greater. Benedict XII abolished the two provinces into which hitherto the English Benedictines had been divided and revived triennial General Chapters meeting at Northampton. To Abbot Michael, significantly enough, the Pope entrusted the execution of these measures. The abbot entered heartily into the work, exhorting and encouraging individuals and actively helping in the restoration of religion in places where it had altogether decayed.

Thus when Abbot Michael, having been struck down by the Black Death, was succeeded by Thomas de la Mare, the foundations of reform had been laid. It fell to the lot of the new abbot to complete and adorn the work begun by his predecessors.

Thomas de la Mare, who ruled the Abbey for almost fifty years, has perhaps left a deeper mark on the history of St. Albans than any other abbot. He was no mere political prelate. For his age he was what would be called a good man; but before all things he was an able administrator and a stern though just ruler. Indefatigable in upholding the convent’s rights against every outside power, he knew no compromise in his exaction of full obedience from all within the House. To his biographer, credulity, the employment of unworthy officers and his lavish outlay as President of General Chapters were the only flaws in an otherwise perfect character. No censure is passed upon his craftiness in evading the Statute of Mortmain, nor are certain acts of crude revenge adversely commented upon. Besides supreme ability, he certainly possessed an exceptional personality, and towards the close of his life was regarded almost as a saint by the brethren.12 The greatest of the later abbots, he has perhaps suffered unduly at the hands of his editor, who conceived of him only ‘as that most litigious of abbots ... Thomas de la Mare.’13 His tenants do not appear to have looked upon him as a tyrant. The orderly character of the revolt of 1381 at St. Albans was in marked contrast with the scenes of pillage and murder at Bury St. Edmunds. The St. Albans tenants rose to assert their rights—the men of Bury to avenge their wrongs.

Abbot Thomas displayed an astonishing activity in every department of monastic life. The church services were entirely revised, and particular care was bestowed upon the singing, for the regulation of which the Abbot drew up a new ordinal. A series of practical reforms followed; in monastery and cells the discipline was more strictly enforced. The general raising of the monastic standard was exemplified by his refusal to admit illiterate nuns into the house of St. Mary de Prez, and by his careful provisions regulating the duties of the Benedictine students at Oxford. At first, indeed, the rigidness of his discipline caused many of the monks to grumble, and some even to secede. But his method was effective. Before long the Abbey grew famous, not only in England, but on the Continent, and monks were often sent to St. Albans to be trained in monastic discipline for the benefit of their own houses.

The position of St. Albans as the premier Benedictine house was recognised by the election of the Abbot as president of the successive General Chapters at Northampton. In these assemblies De la Mare issued a comprehensive series of constitutions on the discipline of the Order. Looking to the future of learning, he directed every abbot and prior to maintain at Gloucester Hall14 (Oxford) a number of students proportionate to the size of his house. He himself supported many more students than the number of his monks required. Edward III’s commission to the Abbot to visit all the monasteries in the King’s presentation is a striking tribute to his thoroughness. A visitation of Abbot Thomas was far from being a mere formality, and shed a valuable sidelight on the condition of many a great abbey.15 ‘In them,’ says the chronicler, ‘religion had well-nigh disappeared.’ The proper conduct of the monastic rule had been forgotten, and serious abuses were rife. At the Abbeys of Eynsham, Abingdon and Battle, De la Mare worked wonders of reform; at Reading he composed differences between the Abbot and the monks who had practically risen in rebellion; at Chester he took the extreme step of deposing the Abbot. For these services he was made a Privy Councillor, and henceforth stood in high favour with Edward III. St. Albans, in fact, was at the height of its reputation. The story seriously told in the chronicle of De la Mare, in a moment of despondency, only being dissuaded from resigning his abbacy by the repeated supplications of King John of France16 and the Black Prince sufficiently illustrates his social eminence. As for the Abbey, it even eclipsed its old rival, the Abbey of Westminster. It was in vain the Abbot of Westminster claimed the first seat among the abbots in Parliament. So long as de la Mare lived, that seat was occupied by the more important, more brilliant figure of the Abbot of St. Albans.

Its inability to resist kingly and papal extortion during the thirteenth century left the Abbey in a state of miserable poverty. Financial comfort could be restored only by regulating these exactions. This the abbots appear to have realised, and John of Berkhampstead’s (1290–1301) new arrangement17 with the King is the first step towards a remedy of the evil. The existing debt was cancelled, and the Abbey secured possession of the revenues during a vacancy in return for a payment of 1,000 marks. Any advantage which this exclusion of the King’s escheator might have conferred upon the Abbey was nullified by the unhappy occurrence of no less than five vacancies between 1290 and 1349. Each of these involved not only the payment of 1000 marks to the King, but a far more serious expenditure to secure papal confirmation. The financial embarrassment of the House surely increased.18 As a result of a special appeal to the Pope, Abbot Hugh secured a licence to receive special subsidies from the cells in order to lighten the debt.19 But from papal exactions there was no escape. In vain the Abbot begged to be excused from personal attendance at the Curia. His presence was insisted on; the usual enormous fees were exacted, and a licence to contract a loan to meet the expense thus incurred was the only relief afforded him.20 Abbot Hugh early became a favourite of Edward II, and the King’s lavish endowments might well have served to repair the Abbey’s fortunes but for the extensive building operations which were necessary. The church fabric was in a ruinous condition; walls were falling and roofs tumbling in, and Abbot Hugh had little choice but to restore the south side of the church. Small wonder that the debt which was 2,300 marks in 1308 was more than double that sum twenty years later.

At the accession of Richard Wallingford the Abbey’s condition attracted the notice of the Crown, and a commission was appointed21 in 1327 to ‘inquire by whose negligence the existing defects and dissipation of the Abbey’s revenues had been brought about.’ Two years later (perhaps as a result of the commission) Abbot Richard received permission to live abroad for three years ‘to avoid the burden of too great expense.’22 In this unsatisfactory condition the Abbey finances remained till 1349, when the Black Death visited St. Albans with unusual severity. Abbot Michael and three-fourths of the convent perished, and there is little doubt that the mortality among the Abbey’s tenants was high.23 This catastrophe must have further impoverished the Abbey, and the 1000 marks due to the King on de la Mare’s accession could only be paid by instalments.24

De la Mare realised that the payment to King and Pope of large sums at irregular intervals was fatal to any organisation of the Abbey’s finances, and to him is due the credit of having conceived the more workable system of annual contributions. Soon after the outbreak of the Great Schism, a petition was addressed to the Pope, supported by commendatory letters from the King, John of Gaunt, Princess Joanna, and the Archbishop of Canterbury. The Abbot prayed that in return for an annual payment of twenty marks the election of succeeding abbots should receive confirmation without their personal attendance at Rome.25

The arguments which the envoys to Rome were to employ in the hope of winning the Pope’s consent to the proposed measure show clearly the difficulties of the Abbey at this time. The whole annual revenue had fallen to £1,053.26 Of this, £465 was assigned to the Abbot—‘and to the said Abbot pertains the entertainment of noble guests and of all laymen, and the prosecution of pleas in the various royal courts; which, inasmuch as laymen are more hostile to monks than they were wont, are more expensive than formerly, and also occur more frequently.’ The remaining £600 was considered inadequate for the maintenance of the convent.

An objection to this plea of poverty, viz., that the Abbey was really much richer than it represented, owing to the existence of its numerous cells, was anticipated. The cells were said to be a charge on the mother house, which at its own expense was continually involved in litigation on their behalf.

Hospitality, it appeared, was the greatest burden the Monastery had to bear. ‘Also the Lord Pope is to be informed that the Monastery of St. Albans is near London, where the King’s Parliaments, Convocation, and other assemblies of nobles and clergy are held. And the nobles and magnates of the realm, both on their journey there and on their return, are entertained at the Abbey, to its great expense and loss.’ The dearness of provisions, owing to the proximity of rich neighbours, had also helped to impoverish the Abbey, and finally, the partial felling of its woods to pay its debts to the King and Roman Court had diminished a former source of income.

At this time the Pope stood in great need of English support, and might therefore have been expected readily to grant Abbot Thomas’s requests. Yet the desired privileges were secured only by lavish bribery among court officials. William le Strete, one of the Abbey’s proctors at Rome, writes to the Abbot27: ‘And I hope that the business will come to a good end; but I do not know it at all for certain, seeing that the Pope is very capricious.’ He goes on to say that the Pope has not yet read a single letter from the Abbot, ‘and be pleased to know that your business cannot be carried out here through letters from anyone, but only through money.’ Negotiations were continued until 1396. In that year Richard II addressed a further appeal to Boniface IX: ‘Whereas ... the Monastery of St. Albans28,’ he wrote, ‘... has its means grievously diminished by the heavy expenses of the visits of the abbots-elect to the Apostolic See to obtain confirmation and benediction.... It is situate in the uttermost parts of the earth, and is in comparison with other monasteries of the realm over slenderly endowed, and that too in a barren place; whereas therein beyond the other monasteries of the realm the highest devotion, regular discipline and daily hospitality flourishes; whereas if each abbot-elect were bound to make such visit the number of monks would be minished, their devotion chilled, and hospitality be not observed....’ This letter had the desired effect, and the Abbot’s petition was granted forthwith.29

The weakness of the central power during Richard II’s minority had offered a favourable opportunity for making a similar arrangement with the Crown. In lieu of a payment of 1,000 marks in each vacancy, Abbot Thomas had induced the Government to accept an annual tribute of fifty marks.30

Half a century earlier such measures might have completely restored the Abbey’s finances, and even during the fifteenth century they sensibly lessened its embarrassment. More they could not do, for the decay of the economic system was to make prosperity impossible.

Although the Abbot was a lay magnate as well as a spiritual peer, it is remarkable how seldom the Monastery was involved in political and party strife. The current of life in the cloister but rarely mingled with the stream of national life. Occasionally a great noble, like Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Lincoln, might be the Abbot’s enemy, and try to do him hurt; more often the Abbey enjoyed the favour of nobles of all parties, of Yorkist as of Lancastrian kings, and in return offered indiscriminate hospitality. Such an attitude tended to deprive the Abbey of all political or party value. A natural bias, it should perhaps be added, was displayed in favour of the King, upon whose goodwill the prosperity of the House in large measure depended. Abbot Hugh of Eversdon, for instance, was one of Edward II’s ‘court party,’ and was richly endowed by that King. Again, Abbot Thomas was a close friend and supporter of Edward III, as also of the Black Prince. But this attitude was after all little more than the loyalty which they owed to the King. Their support did not extend to party quarrels, to ‘loving those whom he loved, and shewing enmity towards such as were his enemies.’

This detached political attitude is one reason why monastic chronicles are often so intolerably dull. Yet politics were as keen and as absorbing in the Middle Ages as they are now, and monks and Abbot must have followed their course, and criticised the actors, with as much freedom as the men of to-day. In favour of St. Albans it must be said that, in comparison with other monasteries, its chronicles are singularly living and human. In those written during the revival of historical writing under the guidance of Thomas Walsingham, the political sympathies of the convent during the critical period of Richard II’s reign are fully revealed.

Towards Richard II their feelings were hostile, if not contemptuous. Walsingham, in his history of the reign, describes with unction the King’s childish behaviour during his fits of ungovernable anger,31 his violent words on more than one occasion to his Parliaments, and his absurd extravagance in dress. With righteous indignation he relates how Richard, on his way to London, borrowed from the monastery a palfrey, which he never returned. Another chronicler tells with scorn of the King’s visit to the Abbey in 1394, when large concessions were promised, but never fulfilled.32 De la Mare’s successor, John Moote, was apparently on equally indifferent terms with the King. ‘This Abbot,’ says the chronicler, ‘gave to King Richard for the purpose of preserving his good will and avoiding his malice, at different times, one hundred and twenty-six pounds, thirteen shillings and four pence.’33

The attitude of the convent towards Richard II seems reasonable enough. The King, although he conferred more than one benefit upon St. Albans, does not appear to have cherished any affection for the Abbey. He was rather ‘an especial favourer and promoter of Westminster,’ whose interests he consistently supported in the disputes of the reign between the two houses concerning Parliamentary precedence. More difficult of explanation are the feelings St. Albans entertained towards John of Gaunt. A contemporary manuscript—called, on account of its bitterness, the ‘Scandalous Chronicle’34—reveals the existence of strong hostility towards him, and repeatedly speaks of him in most abusive terms. In the early years of the fifteenth century, when the ‘Scandalous Chronicle’ was utilised for a new edition of the history of the time,35 the worst of the slighting references to John of Gaunt were erased and the remarks generally toned down, while in the margin of the MSS. is inserted cave quia offendiculum. Plainly it was unwise to have such remarks about the father of the living King, and so the ‘Scandalous Chronicle’ was suppressed at the place where it was written.36 Many motives may be attributed to the Abbey for its hostile attitude towards John of Gaunt. It had private grievances; the Abbot, for instance, had resented (though he feared to refuse) Lancaster’s demand for large supplies of timber for his castle at Hertford.37 Another reason, doubtless, was the Duke’s patronage of the ‘Arch-heretic’ Wycliffe, whom the Abbot and convent regarded with peculiar loathing. But the main cause of their hostility towards John of Gaunt sprang almost certainly from his political action. From 1377 to 1386 Lancaster was most unpopular with almost all classes.38 The many misfortunes of these years—the French raids on the south coast, the failure of the English arms in France and Flanders, and even the unsuccessful government at home—were laid to his charge. From the Historia Anglicana it is evident that the monks shared this common attitude towards John of Gaunt. Again and again responsibility for failure is attributed to him, and he is branded as an incompetent general and a disloyal, scheming and unsuccessful politician. It is rather startling to find, however, that outwardly the most friendly relations were maintained between the Duke and the Abbey, while simultaneously such abuse was heaped upon him in its official chronicles. The Duke acted continuously as a patron of the Abbey, and conferred a long list of benefits upon it.39 Evidently he was unaware of the secret sentiments of the House which he patronised so liberally.40

A growing movement towards reform and revival was thus the main trend of events at St. Albans during the fourteenth century. The persistent efforts of Maryns and the other short-lived abbots removed abuses and restored the discipline. The long abbacy of Thomas de la Mare was marked by able administration, and minute and unflagging attention to the monastery’s interests. The Abbot shirked no contest to retain or regain lands, services or jurisdiction upon which the Abbey had just claims. His rule was necessarily marked by constant litigation with high and low, from which, in a great majority of cases, he emerged successful. This great labour, the details of which fill the chronicles of his abbacy, had the effect of restoring in some measure the Abbey’s material prosperity. Finally, by his statesmanlike measures with regard to future vacancies he had done all in his power to ensure the permanence of his work of financial restoration.

The effect of lessening the pressure of outside circumstances and rendering more safe and easy the existence of the Abbey was to promote a mild revival which bore its best fruits in a new outburst of historical writing. The golden age of St. Albans’ historical composition had been the early thirteenth century, and was associated with the names of Roger Wendover and Matthew Paris. Then it was that the St. Albans School grew famous. Its MSS. were frequently lent to other houses for the writing up of their own chronicles,41 and when official information was required on a point of history it became usual to refer to the St. Albans chronicles.42 With so long a tradition of annalistic composition43 the Abbey developed a variety of script unique in England, and experts can identify with considerable certainty the products of the St. Albans scriptorium. The composition of history never actually ceased after the time of Matthew Paris. The tradition was maintained (though perhaps it languished somewhat) by the writings of Rishanger, Trokelowe and Blaneforde. At the close of the fourteenth century occurred the valuable revival under the guidance of Thomas of Walsingham. The years 1370 and 1420 mark roughly the limits within which it fell. The amount of work produced was considerable, and in quality was hardly inferior to that of the thirteenth century. From an historical point of view it is probably more important, since by Walsingham’s time other sources of chronicle writings were beginning to fail.44

In its revival under De la Mare, St. Albans was almost unique among the English abbeys; in no other case was there any movement comparable with it. Yet there is a grave danger of overrating the significance of De la Mare’s abbacy. The monastic system cannot be said to have been reinvigorated nor primitive fervour restored. The revival was confined within narrow limits, and, on the whole, its fruits were small. It was, however, sufficient to blunt the edge of much of the contemporary criticism which in the fourteenth century was being applied to the monastic system. Chaucer, for example, in his Prologue, described for all time the typical monk of his day—

But Chaucer’s satire, once so true,46 was a spent shot in De la Mare’s time.

There was other contemporary criticism which was perhaps harder to meet. Langland looked forward with certainty to the time when the monastic system should be destroyed—‘shall have knock of a king and incurable the wound.’ The criticism of Wycliffe was more severe. His rejection of the Pope, with whose interests those of the exempt monasteries were bound up, his doctrine of evangelical poverty, and the practical proposal that the Government should disendow a delinquent church undermined the very foundations of monasticism. Wycliffe’s position rested upon the double argument of the decay of the monastic life and the superiority of a life lived in the world. Of this contention St. Albans could refute only the half. The vicious handling which the reformer receives in its chronicles almost suggests an anticipation of defeat, a tacit recognition of the weakness of the writer’s position. Thomas Walsingham, in his Historia Anglicana, dubs him ‘Wyk-believe’ and ‘disciple of anti-Christ’; speaks not of his opinions, but of his ravings (deliramenta), and unhesitatingly attributes to his inspiration such varied ills as the Peasants’ Revolt and the profanation of the Sacrament by a Wiltshire knight. When he chronicles the death of ‘that limb of Satan, idol of heretics, mirror of hypocrites and fabricator of lies—John Wycliffe,’ it is only to repeat cruel gossip about his last hours. The life of Wycliffe, in fact, marks a fresh step in the growing unpopularity of the monastic system, and with a sure instinct St. Albans recognised the fact, and so far as it was able, dealt with him accordingly.