Chapter I: Part 1

The Abbey of St. Albans

The Abbey of St. Albans
from 1300 to the Dissolution
of the Monasteries

THE STANHOPE ESSAY
1911

BY
VIVIAN H. GALBRAITH
MANCHESTER UNIVERSITY
SCHOLAR OF BALLIOL COLLEGE

Oxford
B. H. BLACKWELL, BROAD STREET

London
SIMPKIN, MARSHALL & CO., LIMITED

MCMXI

CONTENTS.

PAGE
INTRODUCTORY 3

I. THE REVIVAL WITHIN THE ABBEY DURING THE 14TH CENTURY 11

II. THE NECESSITY FOR DISSOLUTION 35

(_A_) SKETCH OF THE ECONOMIC HISTORY, 1300–1539 36

(_B_) DECAY OF THE MONASTIC SPIRIT IN THE 15TH CENTURY 47

APPENDIX. THE ACCOUNT OF WILLIAM WALLINGFORD IN THE ‘LIVES
AND BENEFACTIONS OF THE LATER ABBOTS’ 73

LIST OF THE ABBOTS OF ST. ALBANS FROM 1300 TO 1539 75

A LIST OF THE CHIEF AUTHORITIES 76

Introductory.

In the later Middle Ages the Abbey of St. Albans was the most brilliant, though by no means the wealthiest,[1] of the English monasteries. There was ample reason for this pre-eminence. Proximity to London kept its members abreast of the times and freed them from the stain of provincialism, and its position on the Great North Road ensured as its frequent guests the greatest men in the kingdom. Its hospitality became proverbial, and Matthew Paris records that there was room in the monastic stables for three hundred horses at one time. Always, too, there was the glamour of literary greatness as well as its association with St. Alban,[2] England’s proto-martyr, whose genuine relics by universal consent it was admitted to possess. Besides these special traits the Abbey bore the usual insignia of exempt houses--royal foundation, a wide franchise with episcopal jurisdiction, and a place for its abbot among the Lords in Parliament. The homage of some twelve daughter houses or cells, while not increasing its material prosperity, added considerably to its dignity.

[Sidenote: Growth of St. Albans Legend.]

The growth of the St. Albans legend is proof that it was no unconscious greatness the members enjoyed. In the eleventh century, when the monastery had become ‘the school of religious observance for all England’ arose the idea of a miraculous origin; it received final consecration in the narrative of Matthew Paris. Henceforth, it was sober history that King Offa founded the Abbey on August 1st, 793, when the ground opened miraculously, revealing the body of the martyr himself with a golden band around his forehead inscribed with his name. From this point its history was made to run on without a break; the names of successive abbots were given with the dates of their reigns, and the acquisition of existing possessions attributed to various of them by a method hidden from us. From a great deal of tradition little more can be deduced than that the Abbey was of royal foundation and exempt from episcopal jurisdiction, that it was early endowed with a wide franchise, and, by analogy, that morals and discipline would be by no means strict in Anglo-Saxon times.

[Sidenote: Effect of the Conquest.]

With the advent of the Norman Conquest we are on surer ground. Under Abbot Paul (1077–1097) the Abbey was purged of the abuses of the Anglo-Saxon period and a stricter discipline enforced, although only by the loss of exemption from episcopal control. The monastery was now rebuilt on a more magnificent scale, and for nearly two centuries St. Albans was a model house. Under the saintly John de Cella (1195–1214), a stern ascetic, the House perhaps reached its zenith. At no other time were feasts and vigils so strictly observed by the monks, who for fifteen years gave up drinking wine in order that the refectory and dormitory, then ruinous, might be rebuilt. During the Norman period St. Albans had been endowed by many gifts of manors. On some of these cells were founded,[3] but most of them were simply absorbed into the monastic estates, and of course brought within the Abbot’s jurisdiction. The effect of this territorial enrichment of the monastery was twofold. First, it tended to subordinate religious to secular functions: the Abbot became primarily a man of business absorbed in the administration of the estates. Secondly, it attracted the covetous glances of needy kings and popes. At the very commencement of the thirteenth century the Abbot had to face a reorganised Papacy intent upon obtaining funds for the realisation of its strong political ambitions. The Abbey had scarcely escaped the jurisdiction of the Bishop of Lincoln[4] (1163) when it fell under stricter subjection to Pope Innocent III. For the future each abbot was to go in person to Rome to secure confirmation of his election, that is to say to be mulcted in a vast sum of money.[5] In a lesser degree the monastery was menaced by the Crown. Every vacancy put the convent at the mercy of the King’s escheator, who in practice could, and often did, exact far more than the sums to which he was entitled. Indeed, both kings and popes were coming to regard the Abbey as a sure source of wealth in any emergency, and they did not scruple to multiply excuses for continual exactions.[6] These dangers of papal and kingly oppression were self-evident, but in the gradual disintegration of feudal society lay a more subtle peril. The monastery’s failure to adapt itself to the new system of relationships which were springing up on lay estates brought upon it the further misfortune of unpopularity.

[Sidenote: Decay of the Monastery.]

The disfavour incurred by the attempt to retain the manorial system was increased when the organisation itself began to show signs of decay. The decline of religious fervour was followed by a gradual relaxation of monastic discipline, and comparative luxury invaded the cloister. After the death of John of Berkhamstead in 1301 the extent of the falling off began to be apparent. For the next generation the convent was in an unhealthy condition. But though weakened, the organisation was far from being destroyed. At times like this the traditional routine was invaluable. The writing of history, for instance, was continued, and the period is still known to us by the works of John de Trokelowe and Henry de Blaneford, contemporary chroniclers.

At this point our subject begins. The period may be broken up into two parts, and a line of division is supplied by the year 1396, in which Abbot Thomas de la Mare died. Taking our stand, first at 1396, and then at the Dissolution of the Monasteries, we shall look back over the two periods under review and summarize the chief tendencies by which they are marked.[7]

I.

The Revival within the Abbey during the 14th Century.

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.

[Sidenote: Reform of the Discipline.]

The regulations issued by John de Maryns[9] (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 Wallingford[11] 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.

[Sidenote: The Abbacy of Thomas de la Mare.]

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 Hall[14] (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 France[16] 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.

[Sidenote: Reform of the Finances.]

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 arrangement[17] 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 appointed[21] 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]

[Sidenote: The Financial Measures of de la Mare.]

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 Abbot[27]: ‘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. Albans[28],’ 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.

[Sidenote: Political Attitude of Abbot and Convent in the 14th Century.]

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]

[Sidenote: Revival during de la Mare’s Abbacy.]

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.

[Sidenote: Historical Writing.]

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 composition[43] 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]

[Sidenote: Unpopularity of Monasticism.]

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--

A Monk ther was, a fair for the maistrye,
an out-rydere, that lovede venerye;
A manly man, to been an abbot able.
Ful many a deyntee hors hadde he in stable:
and, when he rood, men mighte his brydel here
Ginglen in a whistling wynd as clere
And eek as loude as doth the Chapel-belle,
Ther as this lord was keper of the celle
The reule of Seint Maure or of Seint Beneit,
By-cause that it was old and somdel streit,
This ilke monk leet olde thinges pace
And held after the newe world the space.

... therfor he was a fricasour aright
Grehoundes he hadde, as swifte as fowel in flight.
Of pricking and of hunting for the hare
Was al his lust, for no cost wolde he spare

His head was balled, that shoon as any glas
And eek his face, as he hadde been anoint.
He was a lord ful fat and in good point

He was nat pale as a for-pyned goost
A fat swan loved he best of any roost.[45]

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.

II.

The Necessity for Dissolution.

It remains for us, taking our stand at the year in which the Monastery was dissolved, to survey the period that has elapsed since the death of Thomas de la Mare. It was a time of stagnation, followed by rapid decline. At the end of the fifteenth century the Abbey was financially more embarrassed and morally even more depraved than in the first years of our period. Without attempting a defence either of the motives of Henry VIII or the methods of the Dissolution, no other conclusion is possible but that the abolition of St. Albans was both just and necessary. The Abbey had long since outlived its useful functions.

The necessity for the dissolution rests on a twofold argument. There was first, the decay of religion, and even morality itself, within the cloister; and secondly, there was the decay of the manorial system, the economic basis of monasticism.

(A). _Economic History of the Abbey, 1300–1539._

[Sidenote: The Abbot as Landlord.]

A great spiritual peer who as a mitred abbot took his place in Parliament among the magnates, the Abbot of St. Albans was a no less important personage in virtue of his huge landed possessions. Indeed, it has never been determined whether the right of such abbots to sit in the Upper House rested upon their spiritual dignity or their position as tenants-in-chief and great landlords. The Abbot of St. Albans exercised a wide seignorial jurisdiction over the Hundred of Cashio from early times, and later, over numerous manors in the eastern counties,[47] monuments to the piety of wealthy donors through the centuries. At the commencement of the fourteenth century the relations existing between the Abbey and its tenants were solely those of the manorial system, now fast decaying on all but monastic estates. The symmetry of this arrangement had been broken at an early date by the growth of the town at the very gates of the Abbey. The townsmen were ruled with the same despotic power as the country tenants, from whom they differed only in being more concentrated. As in the closely parallel case of Bury St. Edmunds, St. Albans was governed by a bailiff chosen by the Abbot and holding office during his pleasure; the townsmen were tried in the Abbot’s court, and offenders incarcerated in the monastic prison. The Abbot secured the profits arising from his court--‘the court of St. Albans under the ash-tree every three weeks’--and from fairs, as also the heavy tolls imposed upon all merchandise passing through the town. This antiquated tyranny contrasted ill with the wide municipal independence enjoyed by other towns.

[Sidenote: Abbey and Town.]

There were thus substantial reasons why the townsmen should free themselves at the first opportunity from the hated tutelage of the Abbey, though it must be confessed that their civic disabilities weighed less with them than the strict preservation of the Lord Abbot’s warrens and fish ponds, the close fencing in of his estates, and a host of galling and antiquated signs of subjection, the chief of which was the obligation to full their cloth and grind their corn at the Abbot’s mill.

It was typical of the monastery’s conservatism that each succeeding abbot refused all concession. Discontent culminated in revolt. In 1274, taking as their pretext the matter of the Abbot’s mill, the townsmen inaugurated a mild rebellion by setting up handmills in their own houses. Abbot Roger easily suppressed the rising, and an outbreak in 1314, provoked by the tactless, overbearing Hugh of Eversdon, collapsed even more ignominiously. A more serious disturbance, which broke out in 1327, was not finally crushed for seven years. Taking advantage of the death of Abbot Hugh, and the temporary anarchy which followed the death of Edward II, the townsmen rose again and blockaded the Abbey. The affair was rendered the more serious by the existence among the monks of a party in league with the malcontents. The internal danger was averted by sending away the disaffected monks to distant cells, but Abbot William was compelled to give verbal consent to the demands of the townsmen for a charter embodying the right of choosing their own members of Parliament, liberty to use handmills, to fish in the Abbey waters, and to hunt its preserves, the privilege of executing writs without the interference of the bailiff of the liberty, and finally, the title of free burgesses.[48] By royal help the Abbot at length crushed the rising; the old subjection was once more firmly rivetted upon the townsmen, and the Abbey parlour was paved with their handmills as a token of their defeat and a warning for the future.[49] It is significant of the cruelty and selfishness of the Abbey that no sort of concession was made to the defeated townsmen. At this time, as subsequently, the Abbot showed himself incapable of appreciating the real trend of events. For a moment the Abbey had triumphed and all was well. Under the firm rule of Thomas de la Mare there was no hope of success for an isolated rising, but the outbreak of the Peasants’ Revolt in 1381 gave the tenants their opportunity, and the Abbey reaped the fruit of its foolish and short-sighted policy.

[Sidenote: The Country Tenants.]

So much for the townsmen. The bulk of the Abbot’s subjects, however, were country tenants, living on his various manors. Under the manorial system rural tenants lived in a state of political and economic subjection to their lord. Of such tenants a certain number were free labourers, but the large majority were bound to the lord by varying degrees of servile tenure. The serfs or villeins divided their time between cultivating their own patches of land and rendering labour services on that part of the manor which was cultivated by the lord or his bailiff for the supply of his own granaries. On many of the St. Albans manors a small money rent was also paid by the serf for his land.[50] By long tradition, though scarcely by law, the villein could not be evicted; on the other hand, he was bound to the soil, owed many feudal dues to his lord, and so many days’ work per year on the lord’s domain. A series of regulations of the close of the thirteenth century[51] discloses the harsh policy of St. Albans with regard to its villeins. Freemen were forbidden to buy villein lands; villeins were forbidden to sell to anyone either lands or produce;[52] money payments and labour services were rigorously exacted, and the huge warrens in possession of the Abbey were strictly preserved. The effect of these regulations was to prevent the serf increasing his holding, and to maintain the distinction between free and unfree tenants. By this means alone could the Abbot combat the general tendency towards fusion of the two classes.[53]

While the Abbey was thus fighting to continue the old tyranny manumissions were becoming frequent on lay lands, and all over the country labour services were being given up in favour of money payments. Further, the practice of letting out lands in farms to rent-paying tenants was growing more general. By diminishing the population the Black Death (1349) hastened this process,[54] for landlords were compelled to offer high wages to secure the cultivation of their demesnes, and they had perforce to bring in rent-paying tenants to till the lands of such of their villeins as had succumbed. Nor was the break-up of the old system retarded by the Statute of Labourers (1352). The Act, which provided that food prices as well as wages should remain fixed, was not so much a blow aimed at the poorer classes as an attempt to restore the state of affairs existing before 1349. The process of manumission continued; the numbers of freemen steadily increased, and, in spite of the Statute, wages and prices rose higher than ever before. This increase in the numbers of free labourers inspired those who were still in villeinage with the ambition to become themselves free and to cease rendering labour services which, as the token of their servile tenure, were regarded as degrading.

Such were the grievances of the peasants who in 1381 formed the backbone of the Revolt. The unwillingness to allow manumission which has been seen to exist towards the end of the thirteenth century at St. Albans, and the harsh provisions made to retain labour services, continued in full force.[55] In the case of one manor,[56] it is true, the two systems appear to have existed side by side about 1340, but the rest of the evidence points to the retention in full of the old system both on the St. Albans estates and on the estates of its cells. Thus in 1381 the rural tenants of St. Albans were ready to join in the general revolt. Simultaneously the townsmen made a final attempt to win from the Abbot privileges identical with those demanded in 1327.

[Sidenote: The Revolt of 1381.]

There is little reason to linger over the details of the Revolt. The townsmen rose in a body and set themselves to destroy all visible tokens of their subjection. The fences of the Abbot’s woods were pulled down, his game was killed freely, and a show was made of dividing his domain into small individual holdings. Many houses were burnt, and the Abbey itself was mildly raided; but from first to last there was no wish to take life. The leader of the insurgents was William Grindcob, who appears to have been something of an enthusiast, and the most disinterested of all the leaders in this revolt. In compliance with his demands the Abbot was compelled to deliver up all the Abbey charters, and then to draw up a new charter granting to the townsmen (1) rights of pasturage on his common, (2) permission to use private handmills, (3) entire freedom to hunt and fish over the monastic estates, and (4) self-government by freely-elected officials. These were a repetition of the demands of 1327, except that in the interval the notion of self-government had become more clearly defined.

In spite of the townsmen’s boast that they were in alliance with the country tenants, the two bodies seem to have acted independently. Each had its own grievances to redress. Indeed, the country tenants were still further divided, but the Abbey was powerless to resist even such small bodies as the villeins of individual manors. The villeins on most of the Hertford manors--Tittenhanger, Northaw, Watford, Berkhamstead--marched to the Abbey and in a curiously restrained spirit secured charters satisfying their various local grievances. The tenants of the manor of Redburn, for example, extracted charters containing the abolition of serfdom, of villein services (in favour of money rents), and also, in common with the townsmen, the rights of the chase and of fishing. Those of Rickmansworth obtained all these privileges and the right besides of disposing freely of lands and movables; and so it was done by most other manors in the county.

But the privileges were secured only to be lost almost immediately. The King’s officers arrived at St. Albans, no attempt at resistance was made, and the trouble subsided as quickly as it had arisen. The fifteen executions that followed (Grindcob being the most notable victim and dying finely) were, for the age, mild enough retaliation on the part of a panic-stricken government. As a matter of course, the Abbey was restored in its privileges, and the town subjected to it until the Dissolution.

[Sidenote: After 1381.]

In this way the Abbey was officially confirmed in its retention of an economic system which had become both unjust and unprofitable. Yet economic change was inevitable, and received a grudging recognition. In 1424 the Abbot secured a papal bull[57] allowing the Abbey complete freedom to let out its lands in farms to rent-paying tenants--the system long since in vogue on lay estates. Later in the century manumissions of bondmen become more and more frequent. At first manumission is regarded as a privilege by the serfs, and the price paid for it is commonly entered in the margin of the document; but gradually examples grow more common; no more money entries occur, and it seems that the Abbot was only too happy ‘to be rid of the presence of persons who had claims upon him as a landowner without any power on his part to exact a return to himself of commensurate advantage.’[58] Thus the old agricultural system slowly broke up, despite the monks who to the last retarded the transition to the new order.

Towards the town the Abbey remained to the last unbending, though not on account of any diminution in the resentment with which it was regarded by the inhabitants. In 1424 a large crowd appeared at the gate of the Abbey, armed with swords, to demand concessions similar to those of the extorted charter of 1381; but they were still cowed by the recollection of their late rising, and the affair came to nothing.[59] The last mention of open resistance occurs in 1455 when John Chertsey erected a private mill, and so withdrew corn from that of the Abbot. To such an act of daring he seems to have been inspired by his wife, a woman of spirit. Chertsey, however, was a timid creature; his heart failed him, and he was induced to make humble apology to the Abbot and to destroy the mill.

There can be little or no doubt that in the sixteenth century monastic lands were far behind lay estates in economic development. According to M. Savine, the agricultural revolution had scarcely affected the lands of the monks at the time of the Dissolution.[60] ‘Arable land occupies ... a very considerable part of the area that the monks kept in their own hands; it was very little, if at all, less than the area of the several pastures. As agriculturists the monks carried on a large, or at any rate, a fair-sized business. Now if the conversion of arable land into pasture land had become general under the first two Tudors, then in these thriving monastery farms it ought to be in much greater evidence than in the small homesteads of the peasants, who tilled the land for their own subsistence, and were fettered on all sides by communal regulations.’ But that the revolution was in full swing on lay estates we know from More’s _Utopia_, which was written as early as 1516.[61] Even at this date agriculture was being widely abandoned by lay farmers who were converting what was formerly arable into pasture land, the growing woollen industry being found more profitable.[62]

[Sidenote: Summary.]

To the last St. Albans strove to check economic development. At what was perhaps the great crisis in its history--the revolt of 1381--it had definitely refused to adapt itself to altered conditions. By that refusal it ensured its economic decay, and finally its ruin. For while it was highly desirable that religion should flourish within the monastery, it was absolutely essential that such a huge establishment should rest on a sound economic basis if it was to continue. In the sixteenth century, or even earlier, this condition was no longer fulfilled. It is, however, scarcely a matter for which blame attaches to the House. The mediaeval ideal, which in one aspect was the monastic ideal, was stability, not progress. St. Albans was identical in its attitude with the other great monasteries; it was neither more nor less conservative. Its inability, rather than its refusal, to change or admit change was its condemnation. Such a splendid immobility has something of grandeur about it. At the same time the picture of a town deprived of its ‘natural right of self-government,’ and hindered accordingly in its prosperity, and of the mass of the Abbey’s country tenants living unprosperously under an antiquated agricultural system, constitutes a crushing argument for the necessity of its dissolution.

(B). _The Decay of the Monastic Spirit in the 15th century._

[Sidenote: St. Albans in the 15th Century.]

The task of interpreting the Abbey’s history during the fifteenth century is difficult in the extreme. The confusion, the aimlessness which characterised political history are reflected in the records of St. Albans. Although the material is at least as plentiful as before, the impression conveyed by the facts is blurred and uncertain. With the death of De la Mare the lines of development become obscured. The fourteenth century had witnessed a steady upward movement culminating in the Abbacy of De la Mare. There is a temptation to see in the fifteenth century a consistent, growing degeneracy: the more as it is beyond question that by the year 1490 the Convent had sunk into deeper degredation than ever before. In one sense such a theory is true. The tide of economic decline and growing material decrepitude, stemmed by De la Mare’s careful administration, proceeded unchecked after his death. Within the convent the decay of the monastic spirit was everywhere apparent. Living became inevitably more luxurious, and the religious life grew cold and formal.[63] Yet the reputation of St. Albans was as great in 1460 as in the days of Abbot Thomas. Up to 1464 (the year in which Whethamstede died) no flagrant abuses appear to have invaded the cloister, nor was there any considerable slackening of the discipline. The problem, of which we can offer no adequate solution, is to account for the extraordinary rapid decay between 1464 and 1489, by which time the Abbey had become publicly scandalous. The history of these twenty-five years is quite obscure.

[Sidenote: Whethamstede’s first Abbacy.]