- Introduction by Abbot Gasquet
- Table of Contents
- The Chronicle of Jocelin of Brakelond
- Chronology of the Abbey
- List of Abbots of Bury St.Edmunds
- Bibliography including links
(Original is 3.5 inches long)
INDEX
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Seal of Abbot Samson (Original is 3.5 inches long) |
Thanks to Paul Halsall who scanned and prepared this offering for Fordham University's Medieval Source Book
This rendition of the file has been edited so as to correct various corruptions of words resulting from the scanning process. The following Glossary is provided for words many of which are no longer in common use.
©2004 by Oliver Seely and assigned to the public domain. Copying is encouraged!
Glossary, based on definitions given by the Oxford English Dictionary, On-line, unless otherwise noted.
advowson: The patronage of an ecclesiastical office or religious house; the right of presentation to a benefice or living.
bailiff: an officer of the king, in general. Still the title of the chief magistrate of certain towns.
bailiwick: A place under the jurisdiction of a bailiff.
black monk: a monk of the order of St. Benedict; generically, a monk who wears a black habit.
bury: A manor-house, or large farm; from the obsolete English burh or byri.
cellarer: The officer of a monastery who had charge of the cellar and provisions.
compline: In Catholic ritual, the last service of the day or the hour of that service.
demesne: Possession (of real estate) as one's own. One might say a person holds land in demesne (that is, he owns it).
dirige: Obsolete, now dirge: In the Latin rite: The first word of the antiphon at Matins in the Office of the Dead, used as a name for that service; sometimes extended to include the Evensong (Placebo)
escheated: When land has reverted by escheat to a superior lord, the king, or the state.
fold: The surface of the earth; the ground.
gaveloc, gavelock: A dart, javelin or spear for throwing.
geld: a tax paid to the king by all landowners before the Norman conquest of 1066 and continued under Norman kings.
hidage: A tax on property payable to the royal exchequer.
legate: An officer of the Pope armed with his authority.
legatine: pertaining to the authority of a legate.
mark: In medieval England, a monetary unit equivalent in value to two-thirds of a troy pound of pure silver or two-thirds of a pound sterling.
matins: The church service preceding the first mass of the day. Now rare.
messuage: a dwelling house including outbuildings and adjacent land assigned to its use.
placebo: In the Latin rite: The name commonly given to Vespers in the Office for the Dead, from the first word of the first antiphon (Placebo Domino in regione vivorum, Ps. cxiv. 9, Vulg.).
prior: In an abbey, the officer next under the abbot, appointed by him to exercise certain authority, maintain discipline, and to preside over the monastery in his absence (prior claustral).
rood: As a linear measure: A rod, pole, or perch, varying from 5.5 to 8 yards.
sacristan: A church officer having the care of the infrastructure of a church and its contents, including grave digging and bell ringing.
schism: a breakage or separation of an organization into factions. In the context of this chronicle, Jocelin is probably writing about the "Great Schism" of the western and eastern Catholic Churches in the 9th century.
scot: a local or municipal tax.
scutage: A tax levied on knight's fees; chiefly in the narrow sense of a tax paid to avoid military service. And to think Hollywood has led us to believe in all knights as medieval marines ready to do battle at a moment's notice!
seised: To have taken possession of. He is seised of the land.
seisin: Possession: To have taken seisin of.
sergeanty: A feudal tenure for the purpose of executing some personal service to the king.
socage: The tenure of land by certain services other than service as a knight.
"A VERITABLE MONK OF BURY ST. EDMUND'S IS WORTH ATTENDING TO, IF BY CHANCE MADE VISIBLE AND AUDIBLE. HERE HE
IS; AND IN HIS HAND A MAGICAL SPECULUM, MUCH GONE TO RUST, INDEED, YET IN FRAGMENTS STILL CLEAR; WHEREIN THE
MARVELLOUS IMAGE OF HIS EXISTENCE DOES STILL SHADOW ITSELF, THOUGH FITFULLY, AND AS WITH AN INTERMITTENT
LIGHT"
Carlyle: Past and Present. Book II., Chapter I.
FEW medieval documents have exercised a greater fascination over men's minds in these latter days than "The Chronicle of Jocelin of Brakelond." More than sixty years ago the publication of the Latin text of this history, by the Camden Society, attracted the attention of the great Thomas Carlyle, and furnished him with material for sketching his picture of "The Ancient Monk," which occupied the entire second book of his Past and Present. Although the modern sage in his own rugged way affected no little contempt for what he called this "extremely foreign book," and for "the monk-Latin" in which it was written, it is evident that Jocelin's simple story of the wise, firm, yet withal gentle rule of a medieval abbot over a great English monastery cast a spell over him the influence of which can be detected in every page of his delightful and almost surprisingly sympathetic account of Abbot Samson and of Edmundsbury. In this case the Past, as Carlyle read it in the "Chronicle," was so entirely different from the Present, as he knew it in his day, that the wonder is not that he was fascinated by it, but that he was able with its help to paint so true and living a picture and to fashion so fitting a frame in which to set it. For to him, without doubt, the story dealt with what he regarded as "vanished existences"-" ideas, life-furniture, whole workings and ways," which were not only Past, but gone beyond recall, and "covered deeper than Pompeii with the lava-ashes and inarticulate wreck of seven hundred years!" And indeed it cannot be denied that the ideals and aspirations, as revealed to us in the history of Abbot Samson and, so far as we know, in the life story of his biographer Jocelin, are of a higher and almost a different order to those of our modern world. To men of their calling in those far-off times, the natural and the supernatural were united and intermingled in the simplest and most ordinary way. Their very notions of the unseen world are almost sufficient to take away the breath of those whose lots have been cast in this more material and prosaic age of doubts and disbelief's. To Samson, and Jocelin, and their fellow-monks at Edmundsbury in the twelfth century, heaven, as a great writer has said of earlier English monasticism, was hardly even "next door." The future life was merely the present continued, and each man went forth to his task as it came and laboured at it day by day, not with any idea of finishing it, but only of carrying on for the span of his allotted existence. They built, and planted, and wrote till the end came, and then they went to heaven and others stepped into their places and took up the common work. It was indeed a "simple life": it was almost Arcadian in its picturesque simplicity, and, as Cardinal Newman says of the same life in the days of our Venerable Bede, it reminds us of those times in the dayspring of the world, when Adam delved and Abel watched the flocks, and Noah tended his vines, and angels visited them. This living belief in the nearness and all-importance of the supernatural is the key-note of Jocelin's charming story of a few brief years in the long history of an old English abbey, a new translation of which is here given to the public. As a story, however, Brakelond's "Chronicle" is not wholly, nor indeed mostly, either mysterious or incredible "there are troubles, and trials, and difficulties enough recounted by the writer; and at every turn we may see evidences of human nature and even of human struggles and passions, which are sufficient, and as some may perhaps think, more than sufficient, to show us that it is a history of men, and not of angels, which the old monk is setting forth so naturally and so truthfully. At any rate, there is quite sufficient of the human element in the narrative to give most of us a human interest in the story. And this itself is proof that Jocelin is a true chronicler of what really took place, and no mere romancer tempted to edit or suppress entirely what might not be unto "edification." He manifests no desire to make himself or his brethren appear other than what they were in reality that is, thorough Englishmen, with strong wills and human passions, which, though these same passions might occasionally appear to gain the mastery, they were at all times endeavouring to subdue unto God's service by the help of His grace and through the broad-minded provisions of St. Benedict's Rule. The actors who appear in this living drama, though they are for the most part monks, are obviously men, natural and human enough in all their works and words; but these men are at the same time also monks, endeavouring to raise their minds and hearts to supernatural ideals, and striving to attain to that personal communion with God which is the aim and object of all true religion and of all religious observance and practice. This is "another world truly," writes Carlyle, "and this present poor distressed world might get some profit by looking wisely into it, instead of foolishly. But at lowest, O dilettante friend, let us know always that it was a world, and not a void infinite of grey haze with phantasms swimming in it. These old St. Edmundsbury walls, I say, were not peopled with phantasms, but with men of flesh and blood, made altogether as we are. Had thou and I then been, who knows but we ourselves had taken refuge from an evil Time and fled to dwell here, and meditate on an Eternity, in such fashion as we could" Alas, how like an old osseous fragment, a broken blackened shinbone of the old dead Ages, this black ruin looks out, not yet covered by the soil; still indicating what a once gigantic Life lies buried there" It is dead now, and dumb" but was alive once and spake For twenty generations, here was the earthly arena where painful living men worked out their life-wrestle, looked at by Earth, by Heaven and Hell. Bells tolled to prayers" and men of many humours, various thoughts, chanted Vespers and Matins; -- and round the little islet of their life rolled for ever (as round ours still rolls, though we are blind and deaf) the illimitable Ocean, tinting all things with its eternal hues and reflexes, making strange prophetic music! How silent now!"
The Author.-Jocelin de Brakelond, the writer of the Chronicle called by his name, was a monk of Edmundsbury. The date of his birth is uncertain, but as he became a novice in that abbey in 1173, we may suppose that he was born not later than 1156. It has been conjectured that he was a native of Bury St. Edmunds, and that his name Brakelond was derived from that of an ancient street of the city, in accordance with the common practice of calling monks by the name of the place from which they came to religion. Little more is known about him than he tells us incidentally in the course of his narrative, but one of his contemporaries in the monastery speaks of him as "a man of excellent religious observance, as well as a power both in word and work "-eximiae religionis, potens sermone et otere. Carlyle sees him in his writing as a man of a "patient, peaceable, loving, clear- smiling nature." A "wise simplicity," he adds, "is in him; much natural sense; a veracity that goes deeper than words." What more can we desire in a writer, especially when we may add that he shows himself to have been a cultured man, acquainted with the ancient authors, quoting Virgil and Horace and Ovid? His knowledge of the Bible is naturally extensive, and, as was common in those days, his very phraseology is obviously founded upon the sacred text. He once likewise cites, with acknowledgment, a short passage from the more modern Ralph de Diceto's Imagines Historiaruin. Our latter-day philosopher praises him also because he shows himself to have "a pleasant wit; and to love a timely joke, though in a mild subdued manner; very amiable to see." In AD . 1173, as just noted, Jocelin entered the community and passed under the care of Samson of Tottington, who subsequently became abbot, but who was then Master of novices. The then abbot, Hugh, was old, and although a high standard of the religious exercises and of the monastic life inside the cloister was maintained, the temporalities were in a sad state, and year by year tended to get from bad to worse, so that Jocelin's early experiences of monastic life were connected with anxieties about the load of debt to moneylenders under which Edmundsbury groaned.He tells us that he had himself seen bonds for repayment made out to the Jews, under which, for failure to meet the sums falling due, the original loan had grown in eight years from £100 to £800. No wonder that the youthful religious questioned his Master of novices as to why some remedy was not found by those in authority for a state of things which meant temporal ruin and disgrace for the community of Edmundsbury. In 1180 Abbot Hugh met with an accident and died. After a period of a year and three months the former Master of novices, Samson, then the provident Sacrist, was chosen in his place. It was during this period of vacancy that, in recording something which happened in the monastery, Jocelin incidentally makes mention of another literary work of his own, namely, the Book of the Miracles of St. Robert, a boy supposed to have been martyred by the Jews in 1118, who was entombed in the church at Edmundsbury.On the election of Samson, Jocelin was appointed his chaplain, and this brought him into the closest connection with the abbot for six years. In 1198 and 1200 he was Guest-master, and in 1212 he held the office of Almoner. In all these offices the future chronicler had exceptional means of acquiring information, and these he utilised in writing the story of Abbot Samson's administration, which is introduced by a vivid sketch of the temporal disorder of the house in the closing years of Abbot Hugh. His Chronicle covers the period of the history of Edmundsbury from 1173 to 1190, and, as he says in the beginning, "he took care to write only what he himself saw and heard." The date of his death is uncertain.
The "Chronicle." -The Latin text of Cronica Joceline is found complete only in one manuscript - Harl. MS. 1005 - in the British Museum. It was printed for the first time by the Camden Society in 1840 under the editorship of I. G. Gage Rokewood, who supplied a valuable Introduction and notes, of which subsequent editors have availed themselves. The text was likewise printed in Mr. Thomas Arnold's Memorials of St. Edmund's Abbey (Rolls Series) I., pp. 209-336 In 1844, under the title Monastic and Social Life in the Twelfth century, as exemplified in the Chronicle of Jocelin of Brakelond, .AD. 1173-1202, the work was translated by Thomas Edlyne Tomlins. Carlyle's work, Past and Present, published in 1843 had already drawn attention to the "Chronicle of Jocelin," and another edition of Mr. Tomlins' work was called for in 1849. This translation has since appeared at least once, but for the present edition a new English version has been carefully prepared from the original Latin text of the Chronicle.
Abbot Samson.-The central figure and, as we may say, "the hero" of Jocelin's story is, of course, Abbot Samson. He was born in 1135 at Tottington, near
Thetford, in Norfolk. His father appears to have died when Samson was young, and a pretty legend of a boyish dream in which St. Edmund extended his
protection to the child against the assaults of the devil, and the recognition of the place seen in the dream as the gate of the monastery of St. Edmundsbury,
when his mother had taken him with her on a pilgrimage to the shrine of the saint, led to his taking refuge in the cloister. He had received his early
instruction from a schoolmaster named William of Diss, and he attained the degree of Master of Arts in the University of Paris. In this place we are not
concerned with the events of his life" these may be read for the most part in the Chronicle of Jocelin of Brakelond. What alone seems to be called for in this
brief Introduction is some account of his person and character as it is manifested in the scattered evidences of his acts. If we want a picture of the man let us
take Carlyle's, who sketches "the substantial figure of a man with eminent nose, bushy brows, and clear-flashing eyes, his russet beard growing daily greyer,"
and his hair which, before his elevation to the abbot's chair, had been black, becoming daily more and more silvered with his many cares. We know
something of the task that was before him when he gathered up the reins of office, and we may be sure he knew more. But as we see him in the pages of
Jocelin, he was not the man to flinch from his duty, or to seek to let difficulties mend themselves by pretending that he did not see them. From the time that
he walked barefooted into his church to be installed in the abbatial chair, he let all see that he was abbot and had come to rule. He had set his whole strength
to accomplish a great task and his shoulders to sustain an almost overwhelming burden, when in the hour of his election he walked to the altar singing the
Miserere mei with his brethren. "His head was held erect," says the faithful Jocelin, "and his face showed no change," a portent which called from the king
the remark "This abbot-elect seems to think himself capable of governing an abbey." "It is beautiful" -writes Carlyle in a philosophical appreciation of the
principles of monastic government -- "it is beautiful how the chrysalis governing-soul, shaking off its dusty slough and prison, starts forth winged, a true
royal soul! Our new abbot has a right honest, unconscious feeling, without insolence as without fear or flutter, of what he is and what others are. A courage
to quell the proudest, an honest pity to encourage the humblest. Withal there is a noble reticence in this Lord Abbot: much vain unreason he hears; lays up
without response. He is not there to expect reason and nobleness of others, he is there to give them of his own reason and nobleness. Is he not their servant,
who can suffer from them and for them; bear the burden their poor spindle-limbs totter and stagger under; and in virtue of being their servant, govern them,
lead them out of weakness to strength, out of defeat into victory?"Abbot Samson ruled over his house for thirty years, and when in 1212, ten years after the
end of Jocelin's Chronicle, he died, he was followed to the grave by a sorrowing community whose unstinted reverence and affection he had won. An
unknown monk of Edmundsbury, the author of another Chronicle of the house, thus wrote of him: ---On the 30th December, at St. Edmund's, died Samson,
of pious memory, the venerable abbot of that place; after he had prosperously ruled the abbey committed to him for thirty years and had freed it from a load
of debt, had enriched it with privileges, liberties, possessions and spacious buildings and had restored the worship of the church both internally and
externally, in the most ample manner. Then bidding his last farewell to his sons, by whom the blessed man deserved to be blest for evermore, whilst they
were all standing ;by and gazing with awe at a death which was a cause for admiration, not for regret, in the fourth year of the interdict he rested in
peace."The first business to which Abbot Samson applied himself after his election was the task of understanding and grappling with the deplorable financial
state of his house. He insisted upon the immediate production of every claim against the monastery, and by personally visiting each of its many manors he
gained a correct knowledge of its resources. Within twelve months he had formed his plans and had quieted every creditor : within twelve years the entire
debt had been paid off, and he could turn his attention to building and adorning the house of St. Edmund. It is impossible to read the pages of Jocelin
without seeing that the ruling idea of the abbot's life was his devotion to his great patron, St. Edmund. He was the servant, after God, of the saint, his
representative and the upholder of his honour and privileges, the champion of his rights, the guardian of his property. Inspired by this thought he worked to
make Edmundsbury worthy of its patron, and in his success he saw the result of the saint's intercession and protection. "Apart from this special devotion to
St. Edmund, it is easy to see," writes Mr. Thomas Arnold, "that Samson was an earnestly religious man, and not a Christian by halves. After the news had
come of the capture of Jerusalem by the Saracens Samson took the loss of the Holy Places so much to heart, that from that time he wore undergarments of
hair-cloth and abstained from the use of meat." He was, too, a thorough Englishman, and read admirably - elegantissmie - the Bible in English scripturam
anglice scriptam - and "he was wont to preach to the people in English-but in the dialect of Norfolk where he had been born and bred." On one occasion he
gives as a reason, and as some may think, a somewhat strange reason, for appointing a monk to an office, that "he did not know French." He was no doubt
anxious to secure that St. Edmundsbury should be truly national, with its roots deep in the soil of his country, to teach it to build up its own traditions, and
to let People see that it was, a great English house. But Samson's work was not accomplished without grave anxiety, none the less because it was unseen by
others. Though he walked upright with a smiling face, and had ever the courage to battle for the rights of his house when there was need, in a way that
might make people regard him as a man of iron nerve possessed of a soul that never felt any trouble, nevertheless in the first fourteen years of his
administration his black hair was blanched as white as snow, and Jocelin speaks of hearing his beloved master walking about when all were in bed and
relieving his pent-up feelings with sighs and groans. Once the chronicler took courage to tell his master that he had thus heard him in his night vigil, and to
this the abbot replied: "'Tis no wonder. you (as my chaplain) share in the streets of my office, in tile meat and drink, in the journeys and the like, but you little
think what I have to do to provide for my house and family, or of the many and difficult matters of my pastoral office, which are always pressing upon me
"these are the things which make my soul anxious and cause me to sigh." And so when Abbot Samson came to die, the thin veil which to him and his monks
of Edmundsbury alone hid the world to come from their vision was parted, and the supernatural life eternal was revealed to him in the most natural of ways.
He passed from labour for God and St. Edmundsbury, to rest in God and with his loved patron, carrying with him the full sheaves of his good works. Carlyle
has only partially caught the idea when he writes: "Genuine work alone, what thou workest faithfully, that is eternal." "Yes," he concludes, "a noble Abbot
Samson resigns himself to oblivion "feels it no hardship, but a comfort" counts it as a still resting-place, for much sick fret, and fever, and stupidity, which in
the night-watches often made his strong heart sigh."
I HAVE undertaken to write of those things which I have seen and heard, and which have occurred in the church of Saint Edmund, from the year in which
the Flemings were taken without the town, in which year also I assumed the religious habit, and in which Prior Hugh was deposed and Robert made Prior in
his room. And I have related the evil as a warning, and the good for an example.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
THE CHRONICLE OF JOCELIN OF BRAKELOND
AD 1173
In those days Abbot Hugh grew old, and his eyes were dim. He was a good and kindly man, a godfearing and pious monk, but in temporal matters he was unskilful and improvident. He relied too much on his own intimates and believed too readily in them, rather trusting to a stranger's advice than using his own judgment. It is true that discipline and the service of God, and all that pertained to the rule, flourished greatly within the cloister, but without the walls all things were mismanaged. For every man, seeing that he served a simple and ageing lord, did not that which was right, but that which was pleasing in his own eyes. The townships and all the hundreds of the abbot were given to firm; the woods were destroyed, and the houses on the manors were on the verge of ruin; from day to day all things grew worse. The abbot's sole resource and means of relief was in borrowing money, that so it might at least be possible to maintain the dignity of his house. For eight years before his death, there was never an Easter or Michaelmas which did not see at least one or two hundred pounds added to the debt. The bonds were ever renewed, and the growing interest was converted into principal.
This disease spread from the head to the members, from the ruler to his subjects. So it came to pass that if any official had a seal of his own, he also bound himself in debt as he listed, both to Jews and Christians. Silken caps, and golden vessels, and the other ornaments of the church, were often placed in pledge without the assent of the monastery. I have seen a bond made to William Fitzlsabel for a thousand and two score pounds, but know not the why nor wherefore. And I have seen another bond to Isaac, son of Rabbi Joce, for four hundred pounds, but know not wherefore it was made. I have seen also a third bond to Benedict, the Jew of Norwich, for eight hundred and fourscore pounds, and this was the origin and cause of that debt.
Our buttery was destroyed, and the sacristan William received it to restore whether he would or no. He secretly borrowed forty marks at interest from Benedict the Jew, and made him a bond, scaled with a certain seal which was wont to hang at the shrine of St. Edmund. With this the gilds and brotherhoods used to be sealed; afterwards, but in no great haste, it was destroyed by order of the monastery. Now when that debt increased to one hundred pounds, the Jew came, bearing letters of the lord king concerning the sacristan's debt, and then at last that which had been hidden from the abbot and the monks appeared. So the abbot in anger would have deposed the sacristan, alleging a privilege of the lord pope that enabled him to remove William his sacristan when he would. However, there came one to the abbot, who pleaded for the sacristan, and so won over the abbot that he suffered a bond to be made to Benedict the Jews for four hundred pounds, payable at the end of four years, that is, a bond for the hundred pounds to which the interest had increased, and for another hundred pounds which the same Jew had lent to the sacristan for the use of the abbot. And in full chapter the sacristan obtained that all this debt should be paid, and a bond was made and sealed with the seal of the monastery. For the abbot pretended that the debt was no concern of his, and did not affix his seal. However, at the end of the four years there was nothing wherewith the debt might be discharged, and a new bond was made for eight hundred and fourscore pounds, which was to be repaid at stated times, every year fourscore pounds.
And the same Jew had many other bonds for smaller debts, and one bond which was for fourteen years, so that the sum of the debt owing to that Jew was a thousand and two hundred pounds, over and above the amount by which usury had increased it.
Then came the almoner of the lord king and told the lord abbot that many rumours concerning these great debts had come to the king. And when counsel had been taken with the prior and a few others, the almoner was brought into the chapter. Then, when we were seated and were silent, the abbot said: "Behold the almoner of the king, our lord and friend and yours, who, moved by love of God and Saint Edmund, has shown to us that the lord king has heard some evil report of us and you, and that the affairs of the church are ill-managed within and without the walls. And therefore I will, and command you upon your vow of obedience, that you say and make known openly how our affairs stand." So the prior arose, and speaking as it were one for all, said that the church was in good order, and that the rule was well and strictly kept within, and matters outside the walls carefully and discreetly managed; and that though we, like others round us, were slightly involved in debt, there was no debt which might give us cause for anxiety. When he heard this, the almoner said that he rejoiced greatly to hear this witness of the monastcry, by which he meant these words of the prior. And the prior, and Master Geoffrey of Coutances, answered in these same words on another occasion, when they spoke in defence of the abbot at the time when Archbishop Richard, by virtue of his legatine power, came into our chapter, in the days before we possessed that exemption which we now enjoy.
Now I was then in my novitiate, and on a convenient occasion talked of these things to my master, who was teaching me the Rule, and in whose care I was
placed; he was Master Samson, who was afterwards abbot. "What is this," I said, "that I hear? And why do you keep silence when you see and hear such
things -- you, who are a cloistered monk, and desire not offices, and fear God rather than man? "But he answered and said, "My son, the newly burnt child
feareth the fire, and so is it with me and with many another. Prior Hugh has been lately deposed and sent into exile; Dennis, and Hugo, and Roger de
Hingham have but lately returned to the house from exile. I was in like manner imprisoned, and afterwards was sent to Acre, for that we spoke to the
common good of our church against the will of the abbot. This is the hour of darkness; this is the hour in the which flatterers triumph and are believed; their
might is increased, nor can we prevail against them. These things must be endured for a while the Lord see and judge! "
HOW THE MONASTERY WAS FREED FROM LEGATINE VISITATION
AD 1176
THERE came a rumour to Abbot Hugh that Richard, Archbishop of Canterbury, purposed to come and to hold a visitation of our church by virtue of his
legatine authority. And having taken advice, the abbot sent to Rome and obtained exemption from the power of the said legate. But when the messenger
returned to us frorn Rome, there was not found means of paying that which he had promised to the lord pope and to the cardinals, unless in the
circumstances use might be made of the cross which was above the high altar, and of a Mary, and a John, which images Archbishop Stigand had adorned
with much weight of gold and silver, and had given to the blessed Edmund. Then some among our number, who were very intimate with the abbot, said that
the very shrine of Saint Edmund itself ought to be stripped in order to win so notable a privilege. But they considered not the great danger that might ensue
from so great liberty. For if by chance we should have an abbot who wished to waste the goods of the church and evilly entreat his monastery, then there
would be no one to whom the monastery might make complaint of the evil deeds of the abbot, who would fear neither bishop, nor archbishop, nor legate,
and whose impunity would give him boldness in wrongdoing.
CONCERNING MASTER DENNIS THE CELLARER
Now in those days the cellarer, like the rest of the officers of the monastery, borrowed money from Jurnet the Jew, without the knowledge of the monastery, on a bond sealed with the seal mentioned above. But when the debt had grown to three score pounds, the monastery was called upon to discharge the debt of the cellarer. He was deposed, though he defended himself by saying that for three years he, by command of the abbot, had received all guests in the guest-house, whether the abbot were at home or no, whom the abbot ought to have received according to the constitution of the house.
In his stead Master Dennis was appointed, and by his economy and care reduced that debt of sixty pounds to thirty. Towards the extinction of that debt we paid the thirty marks which Benedict de Blakeham gave to the monastery for the manors of Newton and Whepstead. But the Jew's bond remains with the Jew to this day, and in it twenty-six pounds are written down as principal and for the debt of the cellarer.
On the third day after Master Dennis was made cellarer, three knights with their squires were brought into the guest-house to be entertained there, the
abbot being at home and sitting in his chamber. Now when that great-hearted Achilles heard this, not wishing to fail in his office as did the others, he arose
and took the keys of the cellar, and bearing the knights with him to the hall of the abbot, came himself into the abbot's presence. And he said to him, "Lord,
you know well that the custom of the abbey is that knights and laymen be received in your hall, if the abbot be at home. I neither wish, nor am I able, to
receive guests whose entertainment is your care. But if it be otherwise, take the keys of your cellar, and appoint another cellarer at your pleasure." When the
abbot heard this, he received those knights perforce and ever after he received knights and laymen in accordance with ancient custom. And they are still so
received when the abbot is at home.
HOW ABBOT HUGH STROVE TO WIN THE FAVOUR OF MASTER SAMSON
AT one time Abbot Hugh desired to win the favour Of Master Samson, and made him his subsacristan. He was often accused, often transferred from one
office to another. For he was made guest-master, and then pittince-master, then third prior and finally again subsacristan. Then many strove against him who
afterwards were his flatterers. But Samson did not bear himself as did the other officials, nor could he ever be brought to flatter. Wherefore the abbot said to
his intimates that never had he seen a man whom he could not bend to his will, save Samson the subsacristan.
HOW ABBOT HUGH CAME BY HIS DEATH
AD 1180, 9th September
IN the twenty-third year of his being abbot, it came into the mind of Abbot Hugh to journey to the shrine of the blessed Thomas to pray there. And when he was almost at his journey's end, and was near unto Rochester on the morrow of the Nativity of the Blessed Mary, he most unhappily fell, so that his knee-pan was put out and lodged in the ham of his leg. Physicians hastened to him, and put him to pain in many ways, but they healed him not. So he was borne back to us in a horse-litter, and received with great concern, as was fitting. To put it shortly, his leg mortified and the sickness spread to his heart. Pain brought on a tertian fever, and in the fourth fit he died, rendering his soul to God on the morrow of Saint Brice's day.
Ere he was dead, all things were thrown into disorder by his servants, so that in the abbot's houses there was nothing at all left, except stools and tables
which could not be carried away. There hardly remained to the abbot a coverlet and quilts which were old and torn, and which someone who had taken
away those which were sound, had left in their place. There was not even some thing of a penny's value which might be given to the poor for the good of his
Soul. The sacristan said that it was not his affair to do this, declaring that he had found the money for the expenses of the abbot and his household for a full
month, since neither would those who farmed the townships pay anything before the appointed time, nor would the creditors give any grace, as they saw the
abbot to be sick unto death. However the tenant of Palegrave found fifty shillings for distribution to the poor, because he entered upon his tenancy of
Palegrave on that day. But those fifty shillings were afterwards again paid to the king's officers, who exacted the full rent for the use of the king.
HOW THE DEATH OF ABBOT HUGH WAS TOLD TO THE KING, AND OF THOSE THINGS WHICH THE SERVANTS OF THE KING DID
WHEN Abbot Hugh had been laid to rest, it was decreed in the chapter that one should tell the death of the abbot to Ranulf de GlanvIll, Justiciar of
England. Master Samson and Master Robert Ruffus hastened across the sea, bearing this same news to the lord King, and obtained from him letters directing
that the possessions and revenues of the monastery, which were distinct from those of the abbot, should remain entirely in the hands of the prior and of the
monastery, and that the rest of the abbey's property should be in the hands of the King. The wardship of the abbey was given to Robert de Cokefield and to
Robert de Flainvill the seneschal, who at once placed under surety and pledges those of the servants and relatives of the abbot to whom the abbot had given
anything after he fell ill, or who had taken anything from the property of the abbot. And they also treated the chaplain of the abbot in the same way, for
whom the prior became surety. And entering our vestry, they made a double inventory of all the ornaments of the church.
HOW THE PRIOR RULED THE MONASTERY, WHILE THERE WAS NO ABBOT
THERE being no abbot, the prior took care, above all things, to preserve peace in the monastery and to maintain the repute of the house in the matter of
receiving guests. He wished to disturb no one, to provoke no one to anger, that he might keep all men and all things in quiet. But he overlooked some acts
of our officials which should have been corrected; and especially in the case of the sacristan, as if he cared not how that office was performed. Now the
sacristan, while the abbey was vacant, neither paid any debt nor erected any building, but the offerings and accidental receipts were foolishly wasted.
Wherefore the prior, who was head of the monastery, seemed to many to be blameworthy, and was called slack. And our brothers reminded each other of
this when the time came for electing an abbot.
HOW THE CELLARER AND THE SACRISTAN BEHAVED DURING THE VACANCY
OUR cellarer entertained all guests of whatever condition, at the expense of the monastery. William the sacristan, for his part gave and spent. Kind man! he
spent indiscriminately, and blinded the eyes of all with gifts.
CONCERNING THE CONDUCT OF SAMSON THE SUBSACRISTAN DURING THE VACANCY
SAMSON the subsacristan, who was master over the workmen, did his utmost that nothing which was broken, and no chink or crack, should remain
unrepaired. In this way he won the favour of the monastery, and more especially of the cloistered monks. At that time, and under Samson's direction, was
our choir built. He determined the subjects, the paintings, and composed elegiac verses for them. He made a great store of stone and sand for building the
great tower of the church. And when he was asked where he found the money for this work, he answered that some of the townsfolk had given him money
secretly for the building and completing of the tower. But some of our brothers said that Warin our monk and custodian of the shrine, had agreed to take, or
as it were to steal, some part of the offerings of the shrine, and to spend it for the necessary purposes of the church, especially for the building of the tower.
They were led to this opinion by the fact that they saw the strange uses to which these offerings were put by others, who, to speak the truth, did steal them.
And in order to remove from themselves the suspicion of so happy a theft, Samson and Warin made a hollow chest, in the middle of the cover of which there
was a hole, and which was secured with an iron bar. This chest they caused to be placed in the great church near the door outside the choir, where all the
people passed by, that men might place therein gifts for the building of the tower.
HOW THE ENEMIES OF SAMSON PREVAILED AGAINST HIM, BUT ONLY FOR A TIME
BUT William the sacristan mistrusted his colleague Samson, as did many others, both Christians and Jews, who favoured the opinion of the same William. The Jews, I say, to whom the sacristan was said to be a father and a patron. And they did rejoice in his protection, having freedom to enter and to leave the monastery, and wandering all over it. For they walked by the altars and round the shrine while high mass was being celebrated; their money was lodged in our treasury under the care of the sacristan; and, a thing still more foolish, their wives and little ones were entertained in our pittancy during time of war.
Therefore, having taken counsel together how they might attack Samson, his enemies and adversaries went to Robert de Cokefield and to his colleague,
who had the wardship of the abbey, and persuaded them to forbid in the name of the king that any one should do any work or build anything while the
abbacy was vacant, but rather should the money from he offerings be collected and saved for the payment of some part of the debt. Thus was Samson
mocked, and his strength went from him, and he could not from that time do any work as he desired. But though his enemies could delay his work, they
could not finaly interrupt it. For he regained his strength and overthrew the two middle pillars, that is, he removed the two wardens in whom the malice of
the others trusted. And afterwards in course of time, the Lord gave him power to perform his vow that he would build the said tower, and to finish it
according to his wish. And so it came to pass as though a voice from Heaven had said to him, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant; thou hast been
faithful over a few things; I will make thee ruler over many things."
HOW THE MONKS DISPUTED AMONG THEMSELVES WHICH OF THEM SHOULD BE ABBOT
THE abbacy being vacant, we often, as was right, made supplication unto the Lord and to the blessed martyr Edmund that they would give us and our church a fit pastor. Three times in each week, after leaving the chapter, did we prostrate ourselves in the choir and sing seven penitential psalms. And there were some who would not'. have been so earnest in their prayers if they had known who was to become abbot. As to the choice of an abbot, if the king should grant us free election, there was much difference of opinion, some of it openly expressed, some of it privately; and every man had his own ideas.
One said of a certain brother, "He, that brother, is a good monk, a likely person. He knows much of the rule and of the customs of the church. It is true that he is not so profoundly wise as are some others, but he is quite capable of being abbot. Abbot Ording Was illiterate, and yet he was a good abbot and ruled this house wisely; and one reads in the fable that the frogs did better to elect a log to be their king than a serpent, who hissed venomously, and when he had hissed, devoured his subjects." Another answered, "How could this thing be? How could one who does not know letters preach in the chapter, or to the people on feast days? How could one who does not know the scriptures have the knowledge of binding and loosing? For the rule of souls is the art of arts, the highest form of knowledge. God forbid that a dumb idol be set up in the church of Saint Edmund, where many men are to be found who are learned and industrious."
Again, one said of another, "That brother is a literate man, eloquent and prudent, and strict in his observance of the rule. He loves the monastery greatly, and has suffered many ills for the good of the church. He is worthy to be made abbot." Another answered, "From good clerks deliver us, oh Lord! That it may please Thee to preserve us from the cheats of Norfolk; we beseech Thee to hear us!"
And again, one said of one," That brother is a good husbandman; this is proved by the state of his office, and from the posts in which he has served well, and from the buildings and repairs which he has effected. He is well able to work and to defend the house, and he is something of a scholar, though too much learning has not made him mad. He is worthy of the abbacy." Another answered, "God forbid that a man who can neither read nor sing, nor celebrate the holy office, a man who is dishonest and unjust, and who evil intreats the poor men, should be made abbot."
Again, one said of another, "That brother is a kindly man, friendly and amiable, peaceful and calm, generous and liberal, a learned and eloquent man, and proper enough In face and gait. He is beloved of many within and without the walls, and such an one might become abbot to the great honour of the church, if God wills." Another answered, "It is no credit, but rather a disgrace, in a man to be too particular as to what he eats and drinks, to think it a virtue to sleep much, to know well how to spend and to know little how to gain, to snore while others keep vigil, to wish ever to have abundance, and not to trouble when debts daily increase, or when money spent brings no return; to be one who hates anxiety and toil, caring nothing while one day passes and another dawns; to be one who loves and cherishes flatterers and liars; to be one man in word and another in deed. From such a prelate the Lord defend us."
And again, one said of his friend, "That man is almost wiser than all of us, and that both in secular and in ecclesiastical matters. He is a man skilled in counsel, strict in the rule, learned and eloquent, and noble in stature; such a prelate would become our church." Another answered, "That would be true ' if he were a man of good and approved repute. But his character has been questioned, perhaps falsely, perhaps rightly. And though the man is wise, humble in the chapter, devoted to the singing of psalms, strict in his conduct in the cloister while he is a cloistered monk, this is only from force of habit. For if he have authority in any office, he is too scornful, holding monks of no account, and being on familiar terms with secular men, and if he be angry, he will scarce say a word willingly to any brother, even in answer to a question."
I heard in truth another brother abused by some because he had an impediment in his speech, and it was said of him that he had pastry or draff [pig food?] in
his mouth when he should have spoken. And I myself, as I was then young, understood as a child, spake as a child; and I said that I would not consent that
any one should be made abbot unless he knew something of dialectic, and knew how to distinguish the true from the false. One, moreover, who was wise in
his own eyes, said, "May Almighty God give us a foolish and stupid pastor, that he may be driven to use our help." And I heard, forsooth, that one man who
was industrious, learned, and pre-eminent for his high birth, was abused by some of the older men because he was a novice. The novices said of their elders
that they were invalid old men, and little capable of ruling an abbey. And so many men said many things, and every man was fully persuaded in his own mind.
HOW SAMSON THE SUBSACRISTAN BORE HIMSELF WHILE OTHERS DISCUSSED THE VACANCY
THEN I saw Samson the subsacristan sitting by, for the time of this little council was a season of bloodletting, when the cloistered monks were wont to
reveal the secrets of their hearts in turn, and to discuss matters one with another. I saw him sitting by and laughing to himself, while he kept silence and
marked that which each one said, so that at the end of twenty years he was able to remember some part of the various opinions which I have set forth above.
HOW THE AUTHOR SPOKE HIS MIND TOO HASTILY
AND when I heard these things, I was wont to answer to those who so judged, and to say that if we had to wait to choose an abbot until we found one without spot or flaw, we should never find such an one, since there is none living without fault, and nothing altogether good. At one time I could not refrain my spirit, but put forward my own opinion only too readily, thinking that I was speaking to faithful ears. And I said that one was not worthy of the abbacy who had before loved me dearly and done much good to me. And I put forward another as worthy and named him, a man whom I loved but little. I spoke according to my conscience, thinking rather of the general well-being of the church than of my own promotion; and I spoke the truth, as subsequent events proved. And behold, one of the sons of Belial revealed my saying to my benefactor and friend, wherefore to this very day I have never been able, by prayer or present, to regain his full favour. What I have said, I have said. And the word once uttered flies beyond recall.
One thing remains for me, - that I take care henceforth; and if I should live long enough to see the abbey once more vacant, I will see what, and to whom,
and when I speak of so weighty a matter, that I offend not God by lying or man by hasty talk. Then it will be my care, if I live, that we elect one who is
neither a very good monk, nor a very wise clerk, nor too foolish, nor too dissolute; lest, if he know too much, he have also too much confidence in himself
and in his own opinion, and hold others of small account; or if he be too foolish, he be abused by others. I know that one has said, "You will walk most
safely in the middle," and that "Blessed are those who steer a middle course." And perchance it is wiser counsel to be silent altogether, so that I say in my
heart," He that is able to receive it, let him receive it."
HOW THE ARCHBISHOP OF NORWAY DWELT IN THE ABBOT'S LODGINGS WHILE THE ABBACY WAS VACANT
AD 1181
WHILE the abbacy was vacant, Augustine, Archbishop of Norway, dwelt with us in the abbot's lodgings, and by command of the king received ten shillings
every day from the revenues of the abbot. He assisted us greatly to gain freedom of election, bearing witness of the good, and publicly declaring in the
Presence of the king that which he had seen and heard.
OF THE MARTYRDOM OF SAINT ROBERT
AD 1181, 10th June
IN those days was the holy child Robert martyred, and was buried in our church. And many signs and wonders were wrought among thepeople, as we have
related in another place.
HOW THIRTEEN MEN WERE CHOSEN, BY COMMAND OF THE KING, TO ELECT AN ABBOT IN THE PRESENCE OF THE KING
AD 1182, February
Now when a year and three months had passed since the death of Abbot Hugh, the lord king commanded by his letters that our prior and twelve members of the monastery, by whose lips the opinion of the whole community might be expressed unanimously, should appear before him on a stated day to elect an abbot.
On the morrow after receiving the letters, we gathered in the chapter for the purpose of performing so important a task. And first the letters of the lord king were read in the assembly of the monastery; then we offered prayers, and bound the prior on the peril of his soul that he should conscientiously nominate to go with him twelve men, from those life and manners he knew well that they would not stray from the right path.
Then he, by inspiration of the Holy Spirit, gave ear to these prayers, and named six from one side of the choir and six from the other, and he gave us satisfaction without any dispute arising. From the right-hand side of the choir he named Geoffrey de Fordham, Benedict, Master Dennis, Master Samson the subsacristan, Hugh the third prior, and Master Hermer, who was then a novice. From the left side he named William the sacristan, Andrew, Peter de Broc, Roger the cellarer, Master Ambrose, and Master Walter the physician.
But one said, "What shall be done if these thirteen cannot agree on the choice of an abbot in the presence of the king?" One answered, "That would be a
perpetual shame to us and our church." For that cause many wished that the election might be made at home before the departure of the rest, so that by this
means there might be no dissension in the presence of the king. But it seemed to us foolish and unbecoming to do this without the royal assent, since as yet
we had no certain knowledge that we should obtain freedom of election from the lord king.
HOW SAMSON SUGGESTED THAT THE MONASTERY SHOULD APPOINT MEN TO MAKE A SECRET CHOICE OF AN ABBOT, AND HOW THIS WAS DONE
THEN Samson the subsacristan, speaking by the Spirit of God, said, "Let a middle course be taken, that so danger may be avoided on either side. Let four confessors be chosen from the monastery, and two of the older priors, men of repute, and let them look upon and take in their hands the most holy gospels, and choose among themselves three members of the monastery, men especially fitted according to the rule of the holy Benedict for this purpose. Then let them write down the names and seal that which is written, and let them give the writing thus secured to us on the eve of our departure for the court. And when we are come to the court, if it shall be determined that we have free election, then and not till then let the seal be broken, and so shall we know certainly the three who must be named in the presence of the king. Let it also be resolved that if the lord king will not grant us one of our own number, then the writing shall be brought back, with the seal unbroken, and delivered to the six sworn men, that so their secret may remain a secret for ever on the peril of their souls."
In this council we all agreed, and the four confessors were nominated, to wit, Eustace, Gilbert de Alueth, Hugh the third prior, and Anthony, with two other old men, Thurstan and Rualdus. And when this had been done, we went out chanting the "Verba mea," while the said six remained behind with the rule of St. Benedict in their hands, and completed the matter as had been ordained.
While these six men performed their work, we had various opinions as to the choice of different men, but all considered it to be certain that Samson would be one of them. For they called to mind his labours and the danger of death, which he had endured in his journey to Rome for the good of our church, and how he had been ill treated, and bound, and put in prison by Abbot Hugh, because he spoke to the common advantage. And they considered he was a man who could not be brought to flatter, though he might be driven to keep silence.
So, after some delay, the whole monastery was summoned to return to the chapter. And the old men said that they had done as had been commanded them.
HOW, ON THE ADVICE OF SAMSON, IT WAS DECIDED WHAT SHOULD BE DONE IF THE KING WOULD NOT GRANT FREEDOM OF ELECTION
THEN the prior asked what and if the lord king would not accept any one of the three whose names were written down. And it was answered that, since whomsoever the king wished to be received, must be received, there was but one course open to our church. It was added also that if those thirteen brothers should see in any writing aught that should be altered, they should make the alteration, according to God, unanimously and after consultation.
Samson the subsacristan, sitting at the feet of the prior, said, "It would be for the good of the church were all to swear on the word of truth that on
whomsoever the lot of election shall fall, that man shall treat the monastery reasonably, and not change the chief officials without the assent of the house, nor
burden the sacristan, nor make any one a monk without the consent of the monastery." And we agreed on this matter, all raising their right hands in token of
their approval. And it was provided that if the lord king willed that some stranger should be made abbot, the thirteen should not accept this man save with
the advice of the brothers who remained at home.
HOW THE CHOSEN THIRTEEN, JOURNEYED TO THE KING
ON the morrow, therefore, these thirteen set out for the court. Last of all was Samson, who had charge of the expenses of the journey as being subsacristan. And he bore a letter-case round his neck, in which were contained the letters of the monastery, as if he were only servant of them all. So, with no attendant, and with his frock borne in his arms, he went out of the court, and followed far behind his comrades.
On their journey to the court, the brothers gathered together, and Samson said that it would be well if all were to swear that whoever might be made abbot,
should restore the churches on the demesne lands of the monastery to the exercise of hospitality. To this all agreed save the prior, and he said, "We have
sworn enough; you will so limit the power of the abbot, that I would not care to be abbot at all." And for this reason, they did not swear; and it was well that
they did not do, for had this oath been taken it would not have been observed.
OF THE DREAMS WHICH THE BROTHERS DREAMED CONCERNING THE ELECTION OF A NEW ABBOT
THEN on the day on which the thirteen departed, while we were sitting in the cloister, William de Hastings, one of our brothers, said, "I know that we shall have one of our own number as abbot." And when he was asked how he knew this, he answered that he had beheld in dreams a prophet, clothed in white, standing before the gates of the monastery. Him he had asked in the name of the Lord whether we should have one of ourselves as abbot. And the prophet answered, "Ye shall have one of your own number, but he shall raven as a wolf among you." And this dream was partly fulfilled, since he that became abbot strove rather to be feared than loved, as many were wont to say.
Another brother also, Edmund by name, was sitting by, and declared that Samson would be abbot, relating a dream which he had seen on the previous night. For he said that he had seen in dreams Roger the cellarer and Hugh the third prior standing before the altar, and Samson in their midst, head and shoulders taller than they, and wearing a long and flowing cloak, fastened at his shoulders, and he was standing as it were like a champion about to engage in a duel. Then the holy Edmund arose from his shrine - as it seemed to the brother in his dream - and showed his feet and legs bare, as though sickness was upon him. Then when one rose and would have covered the feet of the saint, the saint said, "Come not near. Lo! he shall cover my feet," and pointed his finger towards Samson. This is the interpretation of the dream: In that a champion was seen, this signified that he who was to become abbot would be constant in labour, alike when disputing with the archbishop of Canterbury about the pleas of the crown, and when striving with the knights of St. Edmund for the full payment of scutages, or with the burghers about encroachments on the market, or with the sokemen for the suits of hundreds; and that he was as it were a champion anxious to overcome his enemies by fighting, that so far as in him lay he might recover the rights and liberties of his church. Moreover, he covered the feet of the holy martyr, when he completed fully the towers of the church, which had been begun a hundred years before.
Such dreams did our brothers dream, and at once told them first of all in the cloister and then in the court. And so it came to pass that before vespers the
people openly said that this and this and this man was elected, and that one of them would be abbot.
HOW THE THIRTEEN CAME TO THE KING AND SHOWED TO HIM THE NAMES OF THOSE WHOM THE CONFESSORS HAD SELECTED
AD 1182 21st February
So the prior and the twelve with him after many labours stood at last in the presence of the king at Waltham, a manor of the bishop of Winchester, on the second Sunday in Lent. And the lord king received them graciously, and declared that he wished to act according to the will of God and for the honour of our church. Then he gave command to the brothers through his proctors, Richard bishop of Winchester and Geoffrey the chancellor, who was afterwards archbishop of York, that they should nominate three members of our monastery.
Then the prior and the brothers withdrew themselves, as it were to discuss this matter, and drew forth the seal and broke it, and found these names written down in this order, -Samson the subsacristan, Roger the cellarer, and Hugh the third prior. And at this the brothers who were of greater dignity blushed. Moreover all marvelled that the same Hugh should be both an elector and one of the elected. But because they could not alter the thing they unanimously changed the order of the names, naming Hugh, because he was third prior, first, and Roger the cellarer next, and Samson third. Thus, as far as words went, they made the last first, and the first last.
But the king, having first asked whether they were born in his land, and in whose lordship, said that he did not know them, and commanded that they should
name three other members of the monastery with them.
HOW THE THIRTEEN, BY COMMAND OF THE KING, CHOSE THREE OTHER NAMES FROM THE MONASTERY, AND THREE STRANGERS
AND when this had been granted, William the sacristan said, "Our prior ought to be nominated, for he is our head," and this was readily agreed. Then the prior said, "William the sacristan is a good man." The same was said of Dennis, and was agreed. And when these were named in the presence of the king without any delay, the king marvelled, saying, "These men act quickly. God is with them."
And after that the king commanded that for the honour of the kingdom, they should nominate three persons from other houses. When they heard this the
brothers feared, for they suspected a fraud. Yet did they agree to nominate three, but under conditions, namely, that they would receive no one save with the
assent of the members of the monastery who were at home. And they named three, master Nicholas de Waringford, who was afterwards for awhile abbot of
Malmesbury, and Bertrand, prior of St. Faith's, who was afterwards abbot of Chertsey, and lord H. de St. Neots, a monk of Bec, a most pious man, and in
both secular and spiritual matters very prudent.
HOW THE LIST OF NAMES WAS REDUCED FROM NINE TO TWO
WHEN this had been done, the king sent them thanks and commanded that three of the nine should be removed, and the three strangers were at once removed, that is, the prior of St. Faith's, who was afterwards abbot of Chertsey, and Nicholas, the monk of St. Alban's, who was afterwards abbot of Malmesbury, and the prior of St. Neot's.
William the sacristan of his accord withdrew, two of the five were removed by the order of the king, and finally one of the last three, so that there remained
then two, namely, the prior and Samson.
HOW SAMSON WAS ELECTED ABBOT
THEN at last the above-mentioned proctors of the lord king were summoned to the council of the brothers. And Dennis, speaking as one for all, began to commend the persons of the prior and Samson. He said that they were both learned men, both good, both praiseworthy in their lives and of unblemished reputation. But ever at the climax of his speech he put forward Samson, multiplying words in his praise, saying that he was a man strict in his conduct, stern in correcting faults, apt for labour, prudent in temporal matters, and proved in divers offices.
Then the bishop of Winchester answered, "We know well what you would say, from your words we gather that your prior has appeared to you to be somewhat slack, and that you wish to have him who is called Samson." Dennis answered, "Both of them are good men, but we desire to have the better, if God wills." Thereupon the bishop said, "Of two good things, the greater good should be selected. Say openly, do you desire to have Samson?" And many, and they a majority, answered plainly, "We wish to have Samson," and none spoke against him. Some, however, were silent from caution, wishing to offend neither candidate.
Then Samson was nominated in the presence of the lord king, and when the king had consulted with his men for a while, all were summoned. And the king said, "You have presented to me Samson. I know him not. If you had presented your prior to me, I would have accepted him, for I have seen and know him. But I will only do what you will. Take heed to yourselves; by the true eyes of God, if you do ill, I will exact a recompense at your hands."
Then he asked the prior if he assented to the choice and wished it, and the prior answered that he did will it, and that Samson was worthy of much greater honour. Therefore he was elected, and fell at the king's feet and embraced them. Then he arose quickly and hastened to the altar, with his head erect and without changing his expression, chanting the "Miserere mei, Deus" with the brothers.
And when the king saw this, he said to those that stood by, "By the eyes of God, this elect thinks that he is worthy to rule the abbey."
HOW THE NEWS OF THE ELECTION CAME TO THE MONASTERY AND HOW SAMSON WAS BLESSED
AD 1182. 28th February
THE news of this election came to the monastery, and all the cloistered monks or almost all of them were rejoiced, and also some of the officials, but few. "It is well," said many, "because it is well." Others said that this was not so, "Of a truth, we have all been bewitched."
Before he returned to us, the elect received his benediction from the lord of Winchester, who in the same hour in the which he placed the mitre on the abbot's head and the ring on his finger, said, "This man is worthy of the abbacy of St. Edmund, and for a long while have I known it."
Therefore the abbot retained with him three monks, and allowed the rest to return home. And he announced that he would himself come on Palm Sunday,
and charged certain men with the care of providing those things which might be necessary for his feast.
HOW SAMSON, HAVING BEEN MADE ABBOT, RETURNED AND WAS RECEIVED AT THE MONASTERY
ON his homeward way a multitude of new relations met him, desiring to serve him. But he answered all of them that he was content with the servants of the
prior, and that he was unable to maintain others until he had consulted the monastery on the matter. But one knight he did retain, a man who was eloquent
and skilled in the law. This he did not only from consideration of their relationship, but from arguments of utility also, as he was indeed used to secular
affairs. He received him as a novice and as his assessor in temporal disputes. For he was a new abbot and unskilful in such matters, as he himself protested,
since until he received the abbacy he had never held any office in which surety and pledge was given. On Palm Sunday he was received with due honour and
with ceremony also by his monastery.
AD 1182 21st March
Now the lord abbot was thus received. The night before he had lain at Kentford, and at the proper moment we went to meet him in solemn procession, after leaving the chapter, as far as the gate of the graveyard, while bells were rung in the choir and outside it. But he was surrounded by a multitude of men, and when he saw the monastery, dismounted from his horse without the threshold of the gate, and causing his sandals to be removed, was received within the door barefooted, the prior and the sacristan supporting him on either side. And we chanted the responses "Benedictus Dominus" from the service for Trinity Sunday, and afterwards the "Martiri adhuc" from that for St. Edmund, and conducted the abbot as far as the high altar.
And when this had been done, the organs and bells were silenced, and the prior said the prayer "Omnipotens sempiterne Deus, miserere huic," over the prostrate abbot. Then the abbot made oblation and kissed the shrine, and returned to the choir. There Samson the precentor took him by the hand and led him to the abbot's chair on the western side of the choir, and while he stood there the precentor at once began "Te Deum laudamus," and while it was being chanted, the abbot was embraced by the prior and by the whole monastery.
And so, these ceremonies being completed, the abbot entered the chapter, the whole monastery and many others following. He said many times "Benedicite," and then he first returned thanks to the monastery that they had chosen him, the least of them all, as he said, not for his own merits but only by the will of God, to be their lord and pastor. And asking in a few words that they would pray for him, he addressed the clerks and knights, and asked them to advise him for the good of the monastery.
Then Wimer, the sheriff, answered for them all, and said, "We also are ready to be with you in counsel and in helping you in every way, as with a dear lord whom the Lord has called for His honour, and for the honour of the holy martyr Edmund."
Afterwards the charters of the king concerning the donation of the abbacy were brought forth, and were read in the hearing of all. The abbot himself also
prayed that God would guide him according to His grace, and all answered "Amen." Then he went into his own chamber, and celebrated his day of festival
with more than a thousand guests and with great joy.
HOW ABBOT SAMSON BEGAN TO RULE THE MONASTERY
IN those days I was prior's chaplain, and within four months was made chaplain to the abbot. And I noted many things and committed them to memory. So, on the morrow of his feast, the abbot assembled the prior and some few others together, as if to seek advice from others, but he himself knew what he would do.
He said that a new seal must be made and adorned with a mitred effigy of himself, though his predecessors had not had such a seal. For a time, however, he used the seal of our prior, writing at the end of all letters that he did so for the time being because he had no seal of his own. And afterwards he ordered his household, and transferred various officials to other offices, saying that he proposed to maintain twenty-six horses in his court, and many times he declared that "a child must first crawl, and afterwards he may stand upright and walk." And he laid this especial command upon his servants, that they should take care that he might not be laid open to the charge of not providing enough food and drink, but that they should assiduously provide for the maintenance of the hospitality of the house.
In these matters, and in all the things which he did and determined, he trusted fully in the help of God and his own good sense, holding it to be shameful to
rely upon the counsel of another, and thinking he was sufficient unto himself. The monks marvelled and the knights were angered; they blamed his pride, and
often defamed him at the court of the king, saying that he would not act in accordance with the advice of his freemen. He himself put away from his privy
council all the great men of the abbey, both lay and literate, men without whose advice and assistance it seemed impossible that the abbey could be ruled.
For this reason Ranulf de Glanvill, Justiciar of England, was at first offended with him, and was less well-disposed towards him than was expedient, until he
knew well from definite proofs that the abbot acted providently and prudently, both in domestic and in external affairs.
HOW THE ABBOT MET THE DEMAND OF THOMAS DE HASTINGS THAT HIS NEPHEW SHOULD BE STEWARD
AD 1182 1st April
A GENERAL summons was sent out, and on the fourth day of Easter all the barons, and knights, and freemen came to do homage. And, lo! Thomas de Hastings came also with a great multitude of knights, and brought with him Henry his nephew, who was not yet a knight, and for whom he demanded the office of steward with the customary dues thereof, as his charter provided. And to this demand the abbot at once answered, "I neither deny, nor wish to deny, his right to Henry. If he were able to serve me in his own person, I would grant him the means of supporting ten men and eight horses in my court. And if you will present a steward to me, who knows how to fulfil the office of steward and is able to do so, I will receive him on the same terms as my predecessor had his steward on the day whereon he was alive and dead, that is, I will allow him four horses with the things needful for them. But as you will not agree to this, I will make complaint before the king and before the chief justiciar."
When the abbot had so spoken, the matter was postponed. But afterwards a certain simple and foolish steward, by name Gilbert, was presented to him, and
before he received him, the abbot said to his intimates, "If the ignorance of the steward leads to the ill rendering of the justice of the king, then it will be he
who will be responsible to the king and not I, for he gained the stewardship by hereditary right. For the time, therefore, I would rather accept him than
another, even more incompetent, to my loss. By God's help, I will be my own steward."
HOW THE ABBOT DEALT WITH THE LANDS OF HIS HOUSE
WHEN homage had been received, the abbot demanded an aid from the knights, and they promised twenty shillings from each fee of a knight. But they at once took counsel, and reduced the aid by twelve pounds from twelve knights, alleging that these twelve ought to assist the other forty to keep ward, and to make scutages, and also in assisting the abbey. When the abbot heard this, he was wroth, and said to his friends that should his life be spared, he would repay them like for like, and injury for injury.
After this, the abbot caused inquest to be made in every manor belonging to the abbacy as to the annual revenues of the free men, and the names of the villeins, and their holdings, and the services due from each, and caused all these details to be written down. Then he restored the old halls and ruined houses, through which kites and crows flew; he built new chapels, and rooms and seats in many places where there had never been buildings, save perhaps barns.
He also made many parks, which he filled with beasts, and had a huntsman and dogs. And whenever any important guest arrived, he used to sit with his monks in some retired grove, and watch the coursing for a while; but I never saw him interested in hunting.
He made many clearings and brought land into cultivation, in everything regarding the advantage of the abbacy. But would that he had watched with equal care over the grants of the manors of the monastery. For he received our manors of Bradfield and Rougham for a while into his own hand, making good the loss of rent by the expenditure of forty pounds, which he afterwards handed over to us when he heard that the monastery murmured because he held our manors in his own hands.
For the management of the same manors and for the management of all other affairs, he appointed monks and laymen who were wiser than those who had previously held the posts, and who made careful provision for us and our lands.
Then he received eight hundreds into his own hands, and when Robert de Cokefield died, he took the hundred of Cosford. All these he handed over to the care of the servants of his own table. Matters of greater moment were kept for his own decision, and those which were of less import were decided by his agents; all things he turned to his advantage.
By his command, a general account was drawn up for every hundred of the leets and suits, of the hidages and customary supplies of fodder, of the hens
which ought to be paid to him, and of all the other customary dues, revenues, and expenses, which the tenants had always concealed to a great extent. All
these things he reduced to writing, so that within four years of his election, no one could deceive him as to the resources of the abbey even to a penny's
value, whereas he had received nothing in writing from his predecessors concerning the management of the abbey, except a little schedule containing the
names of the knights of St. Edmund and the names of the manors, and the rent which attached to each farm. Now he called this book of his his Calendar, in
the which also were written down all the debts which he had paid. And he consulted this book almost daily, as if in it he saw the image of his probity as in a glass.
OF THAT WHICH WAS DONE AT THE ABBOT'S FIRST CHAPTER
ON the first day on the which he held a chapter, he confirmed to us under his new seal the sixty shillings for Southrey, which his predecessors had in the first instance unjustly received from Edmund, called the golden monk, that the same might hold the said township to farm all the days of his life.
And he proposed an edict that no one should pledge the ornaments of the church henceforth without the assent of the monastery, as had been done formerly. He proposed also that no charter should be scaled with the seal of the monastery save in the chapter and in the presence of the whole community.
Then he made Hugh sub-sacristan, ordaining that William the sacristan should do nothing in the office of sacristan, either as to receipts or as to expenses,
save by his assent. Afterwards, but on the same day, he removed the former custodians of the oblations to other offices. And last of all he deposed William
himself, whereupon certain who loved William said, "See the abbot! See the wolf of whom one dreamed! See how he ravens! "
HOW CERTAIN MEN WISHED TO CONSPIRE AGAINST THE ABBOT
THEN some wished to conspire against the abbot. And when this was revealed to the abbot, as he wished neither to keep silence altogether nor to disturb the monastery, he entered the chapter on the morrow. And there he drew forth a small bag full of cancelled bonds, to which the seals were still attached, some of which were those of his predecessor, some of the prior, some of the sacristan, some of the chamberlain, and some of other officials. Of these the total was three thousand two score and twelve pounds, and one pure mark, over and above the increase due to usury, the amount of which none could know; and for all these he had made some arrangement within a year of his election, and within twelve years he had paid them in full.
And he said, "Observe the wisdom of our sacristan, William! See the number of bonds marked with his seal, in which he has pledged silken caps, dalmatics, silver vases, and books of the gospels bound in gold, without the assent of the monastery. And all these things I have settled and restored to you." And he added many other words, showing wherefore he had deposed William. But on the principal cause he kept silence, not wishing to make him a public example.
And all things became peaceful once more when he had replaced William with the precentor Samson, who was a man pleasing to all of us, and well known
to be without fault. But the abbot ordered that the houses of the sacristan in the graveyard should be utterly destroyed, as if they were unworthy to stand
above ground. And for this the cause was the frequent drinking bouts and certain things which cannot be mentioned, which he had seen when he was
sub-sacristan with sorrow and pain. So he caused all the buildings to be levelled with the ground, and within a year, where there had stood a noble building
we saw beans growing, and where casks of wine had lain we saw nettles in abundance.
HOW THE ABBOT JOURNEYED THROUGH THE LANDS OF SAINT EDMUND, AND HOW HE ESCAPED DEATH AT WARKTON
AFTER the end of Easter the abbot went through all his manors and ours, and through those which we had confirmed in fee to tenants. And from all and sundry he demanded an aid and recognition, according to the custom of the realm. Daily he grew skilled in earthly learning, and turned his attention to the acquisition of knowledge of external affairs and of providing for them.
But when he was come to Warkton and was at night sleeping, a voice came to him saying, "Samson, arise up quickly," and again," Rise, thou tarriest too
long." So he arose half dazed, and looking round about him saw in a necessary place a light, a candle which Reiner the monk had left there through
carelessness, and which was about to fall on the straw. And when the abbot had put it out, he went through the house and fourid the door-for there was but
one -so fastened that it could only be opened with a key, and the windows barred. Wherefore, had the fire grown, both he and all they who were sleeping in
that building would have perished. For there was no way by which they might have gone out or escaped.
HOW THE CREDITORS OF THE ABBEY DEMANDED PAYMENT, AND HOW THE ABBOT TOOK HIS MANORS INTO HIS OWN HAND
Now at that time, wheresoever the abbot went, there hastened to him both Jews and Christians demanding payment of the debts due to them. And they so disturbed the abbot, and caused him such anxiety, that he lost his sleep, and grew pale and thin. Then he said, "There will be no rest for my soul until I shall see an end of my indebtedness."
When Michaelmas came, he took all his manors into his hand, with very few necessary implements and but little stock. He forgave Walter de Hatfield
nineteen pounds of arrears of rent, in return for receiving from him the four manors in the which he had been confirmed as tenant by abbot Hugh, namely,
Hargrave, Saxham, Chevington and Stapleford.
HOW THE ABBOT DID NOT THEN TAKE HARLOW INTO HIS OWN HAND
BUT the abbot delayed to receive Harlow, and for this cause. It chanced that once when we were returning from London through the forest, that in the
hearing of the lord abbot I asked an old woman who passed us whose this wood was, and to what township it belonged, and who was its lord or who was
warden over it. And she answered that it was a wood of the abbot of St. Edmund, of the township of Harlow, and that one called Arnald was warden of it.
And when I asked concerning him as to how he bore himself towards the men of the township, she answered that he had been a fiend incarnate, an enemy of
God, and one who evil-intreated the poor. But now, she said, he fears the new abbot of St. Edmund, whom he believes to be wise and provident, and
therefore treats his men well. And when he heard this the abbot was rejoiced, and delayed for a season to take that manor into his own hand.
HOW THE ABBOT MANAGED THE LANDS WHICH HE FARMED HIMSELF
THEN there came the unexpected news of the death of the wife of Herlewin of Rungton. She held a charter by which she was to have that township for her life, and the abbot said, "Yesterday I would have given sixty marks to free that manor, now the Lord has freed it." Then when he had come and had received the township into his hand without any delay, and on the morrow had gone to Tillency which was a part of that manor, there came to him a certain knight offering thirty marks that he might hold that carucate of land with what belonged to it on the same terms as before, namely, four pounds a year. This the abbot refused, and he took thence that year five and twenty pounds, and in the next year twenty pounds.
This and other similar events led him to keep all things in his hand; as it is written in another place, "Caesar was everything." Nor was he slack, but caused first of all barns and cattlesheds to be built; he was anxious to cultivate the plough lands above all things; he was careful in maintaining the woods, and in giving and reducing these he made great profit for himself.
The one manor of Thorp alone he confirmed under his charter to a certain Englishman, a man adscript to the soil, in whose fidelity he had the fullest
confidence, because he was a good farmer and because he knew no French.
HOW ABBOT SAMSON WAS MADE A JUSTICE, AND HOW HE BORE HIMSELF IN THIS OFFICE
AD 1182 November
SEVEN months had not yet passed since his election, and, behold! letters of the lord pope - were sent to him appointing him a judge for hearing causes. In the performance of this work he was rude and inexperienced, though he was skilled in the liberal arts and in the holy scriptures, as being a literate man, brought up in the schools and a ruler of scholars, and renowned and well proved in his own work. He therefore associated with himself two clerks who were learned in the the law and joined them with him, using their advice in church matters, while he spent his leisure in studying the decrees and decretal letters. And the result was that in a little while he was regarded as a discreet judge, by reason of the books which he had read and the causes which he had tried, and as one who proceeded in the cases which he tried according to the form of law. And for this cause one said, "Cursed be the court of this abbot, where neither gold nor silver profit me to confound my enemy!"
In course of time, he became somewhat skilled in temporal matters, being guided by his commonsense, for his mind was so subtle that all men wondered, and Osbert FitzHerbert, the under-sheriff, used to say, "This abbot is given to disputation; if he goes on as he has begun, he will blind us all, however many we be." But the abbot, being approved in these matters, was made a justice in eyre, though he kept himself from error and wandering. But "envy seeks out the highest." His men complained to him in the court of St. Edmund since he would not give judgment hastily or believe every spirit, but proceeded in a judicial manner, knowing that the merits of the cases of suitors are made clear by discussion. It was said that he would not do justice to any complainant, unless money were given or promised; and because his aspect was acute and penetrating, and his face, like Cato's, rarely smiling, it was said that his mind lent rather to severity than to mercy. Moreover, when he took fines for any crime, it was said that judgment rejoiced against mercy, for in the opinion of many, when it came to a matter of taking money, he rarely remitted that which he might lawfully take.
So his wisdom increased, as well as his care in managing affairs, and in improving his state, and in spending honourably.
HOW SOME MEN MADE COMPLAINT AGAINST THE ABBOT
BUT hereupon many of his adversaries raised objections. For they said that he received what he would from the sacristry, and spared his own money, and allowed his corn to lie in the barns until such time as the price should be high. They said that he managed his manors in a way diferent from that of his predecessors; that he burdened his cellarer with guests who should rather have been received by the abbot, so that the abbot might win repute as a wise man and one who was clever and provident at the end of the year, but the monastery and its officials be thought ignorant and wasteful.
To these charges I used to answer that if he took anything from the sacristry, he employed it for the use of the church; and that no envious person could deny this. And to speak the truth, much more good and much greater good was done with the offerings of the sacristry during the fifteen years after his election than in the forty years preceding.
To the others who objected that the abbot went often to his manors, I was wont to answer and to excuse him by saying that the abbot was happier and in
better spirits anywhere than at home. This also was the truth, whether on account of the constant complaints which came to him, or on account of those who
told him rumours concerning himself. Accordingly, it often happened that his appearance was stern, and that so he lost much favour and grace with the
guests, though he satisfied them with food and drink.
HOW THE AUTHOR TALKED WITH THE ABBOT CONCERNING THIS SADNESS OF HIS MANNER
BUT I noticed this, and taking a favourable occasion, as I was with him alone, said, "There are two things in you which make me marvel greatly." And when he asked what they were, I said, "One is, that you, in the circumstances in which you are placed, favour the opinion of those of Mclun who say that from a false premiss nothing can follow, and other foolish things." And when he answered what he would to this, I added, "The other thing at which I marvel is that you do not show a smiling face at home as you do elsewhere, nor remain among the brothers who cherish you, and love you, and have chosen you to be their lord, but are rarely with them, nor do you then rejoice with them, so they say."
When he heard this, his expression changed, and he answered, with bowed head, "You are a fool, and speak as a fool. You should know the saying of Solomon, Hast thou many daughters; show not thyself cheerful toward them." Then I was silent, and from that time placed a guard on my lips.
Yet on another occasion I said, "Lord, I heard you this night keeping watch after matins and breathing heavily contrary to your wont." And he answered, "It is not strange. You share my good things, food, and drink, and riding, and the like. But you think little of the toil of providing for the house and household, of the many and arduous labours which are a pastor's care. These make me anxious, and cause me to groan and to be troubled in spirit." Thereupon I raised my hands to heaven and answered, "From so great anxiety, almighty and merciful Lord, deliver me!"
I heard the abbot say that if he were in that condition in which he had been before he became a monk, and had five or six marks income wherewith he might
support himself in the schools, he would never become either monk or abbot. And on another occasion, he said with an oath that had he known beforehand
what care there was in ruling an abbey, and how great that care was, he would far rather have been almoner or librarian, than abbot and lord. And he
declared that he had ever longed for the post of librarian above all others. Yet who would believe such things? Not I; no, not I; but that as I lived with him
day and night for six years, I know fully the merit of his life and the wisdom of his mind.
CONCERNING A DREAM WHICH THE ABBOT HAD WHEN A BOY
ONCE he told me how when he was a boy of nine years, he dreamed that he stood before the doors of the cemetery of St. Edmund, and that the devil wished to seize him with his outstretched arms. But the blessed Edmund, who stood near, received him into his arms; and when he had cried out in his sleep, "St. Edmund, help me! "though he had never heard the saint named before, he awoke. Then his mother was amazed at his loud cry and at his words. And when she had heard the dream, she took him to St. Edmund's, that he might pray there. So coming to the gate of the cemetery, he said, "Mother mine! see this place! See, the very door which I beheld in my dreams, when the devil would have taken me." And he knew the place, he said, as if he had already seen it with his carnal eye.
The abbot himself explained the dream, saying that the devil in it meant the joys of this world which would have enticed him; but that the blessed Edmund
embraced him, since he would have him become a monk of his church.
HOW THE ABBOT RESTRAINED HIS TEMPER THAT HE MIGHT NOT OFFEND
ONCE when it was told him that certain of those in the monastery murmured on account of some act of his, he said to me, as I was near him, "God, God, it is most expedient that I should be mindful of that dream which was dreamed concerning me before I became abbot, to the effect that I should raven as a wolf. Of a truth, I fear this above all earthly things, that my house may do something which may make it lawful for me to raven. But so it is, that when they say or do aught against my will, I call to mind that dream, and though I raven in spirit, groaning and gnashing my teeth in secret, I put force on myself that I may raven neither in word nor in deed. And hidden grief chokes me, and my heart burns within me."
But though he was naturally choleric and easily moved to wrath, yet from respect for his office he generally restrained his anger, albeit with much grief of
mind. Of this also he often spoke, saying," I have seen this and that, I have heard this and that, and yet have I borne it patiently."
HOW THE ABBOT FORBADE SECRET ACCUSATIONS, AND HOW HE ORDERED THE RESTORATION OF ALL PRIVATE SEALS
ONCE as he sat in the chapter, the abbot spoke certain words whereby he seemed to court the favour of the monastery with success. "I will not," he said, "that any come to me to accuse other, unless he will declare the same openly. But if any desire to act otherwise, I will publicly announce the name of the accuser. And I will also that every monk shall have free access to me, that he may talk with me of his needs when he will." Now this he said because the chief men of our house in the days of abbot Hugh, wishing nothing to be done in the monastery save through them, decreed that no cloistered monk should speak with the abbot, unless he had first shown to the abbot's chaplain that which he desired to say to the abbot and the reason.
One day he commanad in the Chapter that all who had seals of their own should restore them to him, and so it was done; and thirty and three seals were
found. He himself clearly declared the reason for this command, and forbade any official to contract any debt above the sum of twenty shillings without the
consent of the prior and monastery, as had been wont to be done in the past. Then he restored the prior and sacristan their seals and retained the others.
CONCERNING FURTHER REGULATIONS WHICH THE ABBOT MADE
AT another time he ordered that all the keys of the chests, cupboards, and hampers should be given up to him, and forbade anyone henceforth to have any chest or anything locked up, save by permission, or to possess anything of any description except such things as the rule allowed. However, he gave general permission to all of us to have money to the value of two shillings, if perchance this should be given to us in charity. The leave was still conditional on the money being expended for the benefit of poor relations or in pious uses.
On another occasion the abbot said that he wished to maintain our ancient custom in the matter of the reception of guests, so that when the abbot was at
home he should receive all guests of whatever condition, except religious men, and except priests of secular habit, and except their men, who should come
to the doors of the court by instruction of their masters. If, however, the abbot should not be at home, all guests of whatever condition should be received
by, the cellarer, up to the number of thirteen horses. But if a layman or clerk should come with more than thirteen horses, they should be received by the
servants of the abbot, either within or without the court, at the expense of the abbot. All religious men, even bishops, if by chance they were monks, were to
be the care of the cellarer and entertained at the expense of the monastery, unless the abbot were desirous of showing them honour and of receiving them in
his hall at his own expense.
CONCERNING THE APPEARANCE AND PRIVATE CHARACTER OF THE ABBOT
ABBOT SAMSON was below the average height, almost bald; his face was neither round nor oblong; his nose was prominent and his lips thick; his eyes were clear and his glance penetrating; his hearing was excellent; his eyebrows arched, and frequently shaved; and a little cold soon made him hoarse. On the day of his election he was mseven, and had been a monk for seventeen years. In his ruddy beard there were a few grey hairs, and still fewer in his black and curling hair. But in the course of the first fourteen years after his election all his hair became white as snow.
He was an exceedingly temperate man; he possessed great energy and a strong constitution, and was fond both of riding and walking, until old age prevailed upon him and moderated his ardour in these respects. When he heard the news of the capture of the cross and the fall of Jerusalem, he began to wear under garments made of horse hair, and a horse-hair shirt, and gave up the use of flesh and meat. None the less, he willed that flesh should be placed before him as he sat at table, that the alms might be increased. He ate sweet milk, honey, and similar sweet things, far more readily than any other food.
He hated liars, drunkards, and talkative persons; for virtue ever loves itself and spurns that which is contrary to it. He blamed those who grumbled about their meat and drink, and especially monks who so grumbled, and personally kept to the same manners which he had observed when he was a cloistered monk. Moreover, he had this virtue in himself that he never desired to change the dish which was placed before him. When I was a novice, I wished to prove whether this was really true, and as I happened to serve in the refectory, I thought to place before him food which would have offended any other man, in a very dirty and broken dish. But when he saw this, he was as it were blind to it. Then, as there was some delay, I repented of what I had done, and straightway seized the dish, changed the food and dish for better, and carried it to him. He, however, was angry at the change, and disturbed.
He was an eloquent man, speaking both French and Latin, but rather careful of the good sense of that which he had to say than of the style of his words. He could read books written in English very well, and was wont to preach to the people in English, but in the dialect of Norfolk where he was born and bred. It was for this reason that he ordered a pulpit to be placed in the church, for the sake of those who heard him and for purposes of ornament.
The abbot further appeared to prefer the active to the contemplative life, and praised good officials more than good monks. He rarely commended anyone
solely on account of his knowledge of letters, unless the man happened to have knowledge of secular affairs, and if he chanced to hear of any prelate who
had given up his pastoral work and become a hermit, he did not praise him for this. He would not praise men who were too kindly, saying, ' He who strives
to please all men, deserves to please none."
HOW ABBOT SAMSON DEALT WITH FLATTERERS
Now in the first year of his abbacy he seemed to hate all flatterers, and especially those who were monks. But in course of time he appeared to listen to them with some willingness, and to treat them more graciously. Once a certain one of our brothers, who was skilled in this art, had bent his knees before him, and under pretence of giving him counsel, had poured the oil of flattery into his cars, while I stood at a distance and smiled. Then when the brother had gone, the abbot called me and asked me why I had been smiling, and I answered that the world was full of flatterers.
And the abbot said, "My son, I have been flattered for a long while, and therefore I cannot attend to flattery. There must be much pretence and much
concealment that the peace of the monastery may be preserved. I will hear them speak, but they will not deceive me, if I can prevent it, as they deceived my
predecessor, who gave such unconsidered attention to them that for a long while before his death he had nothing wherewith to feed himself or his
household, save that which he borrowed from creditors. And on the day of his burial there was nothing which could be distributed among the poor, save fifty
shillings which were received from Richard the tenant of Palgrave, because on the same day he entered on the tenancy of Palgrave; and this money the same
Richard afterwards paid again to the officials of the king, who exacted the full rent for the royal use." And with these words I was reassured.
HOW ABBOT SAMSON MANAGED HIS HOUSEHOLD
HE laboured to secure a well regulated house, and a household large, but not larger than was right, and he took care that the weekly allowance which in the time of his predecessor had not been enough for five days, should last him for eight days, or nine, or ten, if he were on his manors and there were no great coming of guests. Every week, moreover, he audited the expenses of his house, not through an agent, but in person, a thing which his predecessor had never been accustomed to do.
For his first seven years he had four dishes in his house, afterwards only three, if one excludes presents, and game from his parks and fish from his ponds.
And if he happened to keep anyone for a while in his house at the request of some great man or of one of his friends, or messengers, or minstrels, or any
such person, he used to take any opportunity of crossing the sea or going a long journey, and so prudently freed himself from so great expense.
HOW THE ABBOT TREATED THOSE MONKS WITH WHOM HE HAD BEEN INTIMATE BEFORE HE BECAME ABBOT
THOSE monks whom the abbot, before he acquired the abbacy, had treated as his most cherished and intimate friends, he seldom raised to official positions on the score of his former intimacy with them, unless they were fit persons. Therefore some of our number, who had favoured his election as abbot, said that he showed them less favour than was their due, who had loved him before he was abbot, and that those rather were cherished by him who had slandered him both openly and secretly, and in the hearing of many had publicly declared him to be a hot-tempered man, one who was unsociable, conceited, and a Norfolk cheat. But, just as after he received the abbacy he made no injudicious exhibition of affection or of a desire to honour his former friends, so also he did not show towards the others any of that rancour or hatred which they deserved, returning good for evil on many occasions, and doing good to those who persecuted him.
He had also a characteristic which I have never seen in any other man, namely, that he had a strong affection for many to whom he never or seldom showed
a loving face, which the common saying declares to be usual, when it says, "Where love is, there the glance follows." And there was another noteworthy
thing, that he wittingly suffered loss from his servants in temporal matters, and allowed that he suffered it; but, as I believe, the reason for this was that he
waited for a fit season when the matter might be conveniently remedied, or that by concealing his knowledge he might avoid greater loss.
HOW THE ABBOT TREATED HIS RELATIONS
FOR his relations he displayed moderate affection, but yet no less tender than that which others are wont to show, since he had no relatives within the third degree, or pretended that he had not. I have, however, heard him assert that he had relations who were noble and distinguished, but that he would never at any time recognise them as relations. For, as he said, they would be rather a burden than a source of advantage to him if they knew of their relationship. On the other hand, he wished to have as kin those who had claimed kinship with him when he was a poor cloistered monk.
Some of his relations, in cases where he thought them useful and capable men, he appointed to various offices in his house, and others he entrusted with the wardenship of manors. But any whom he proved to be unfaithful he drove far from him, without hope of return.
He held as his dear kinsman a certain man of low birth, who had managed his inheritance faithfully and served him devotedly in his boyhood. To this man's
son, who was a clerk, he gave the first church which fell vacant after his accession to the abbacy, and he also promoted all the man's other sons.
HOW THE ABBOT WAS MINDFUL OF THOSE WHO HAD SHOWN KINDNESS TO HIM IN THE PAST, AND HOW HE TREATED THOSE WHO HAD BEEN HARSH
THERE was a certain chaplain who had maintained him in the schools of Paris by the sale of holy water, when he was poor. This man the abbot caused to be summoned to him, and conferred on him an ecclesiastical benefice, with the position of vicar, whereby he might be supported.
He granted to a certain servant of his predecessor food and clothing for all the days of his life, this man being he who had placed fetters on him at the command of his lord when he was imprisoned.
When FitzElias, the cup-bearer of abbot Hugh, came to do him homage for his father's land, the abbot said to him in open court, "I have delayed now for seven years to receive your homage for the land which abbot Hugh gave to your father, since that gift was to the detriment of the manor of Elmswell. Now I give way, since I am mindful of the good which your father did to me when I was in bonds. For he sent to me some of the very wine which his lord drank, with a message that I should be of good courage in God."
When master William, son of master William of Diss, asked of his grace for the vicarage of the church of Chevington, he answered, "Your father was master of the schools, and when I was a poor clerk he allowed me to enter the school without terms and of his grace, and to have the opportunity of learning. And I, for the sake of God, grant you that which you ask."
Two knights also from Risby, William and Norman, were by chance judged to be at his mercy, and he thus addressed them in the presence of all : "When I
was a cloistered monk, I was sent to Durham on the business of our church. And as I was returning thence by way of Risby, I was overtaken by a dark night,
and' sougfit entertaihment tiom tfie i1orce Norman, but suffered an absolute denial. Then I went to the house of lord William and prayed for lodging, and
was honourably received by him. For this cause I will take twenty shillings, the full penalty, without pity, from Norman; but I give thanks to William, and
gladly remit the due penalty of twenty shillings."
CONCERNING OTHER GOOD ACTS OF ABBOT SAMSON
A CERTAIN young girl, who was begging her bread from door to door, made complaint to the abbot that one of the sons of Richard FitzDrogo had
assaulted her. This wrong, by the abbot's intervention, was at last settled for the sake of peace by the acceptance of one mark by the girl. The abbot further
took four marks from the said Richard for leave to compound for his offence. But all these five marks he ordered to be given at once to a certain pedlar, on
condition that he should marry the poor girl.
Before AD 1198
In the town of St. Edmund's the abbot bought stone houses, and appointed them for the maintenance of the schools. His reason for so doing was that thus
the poor clerks might there be for ever free from paying rent for houses. Hitherto, for the payment of the rent, all the scholars, poor and rich alike, had been
compelled to contribute a penny or a halfpenny twice a year.
HOW THE JEWS WERE DRIVEN FROM SAINT EDMUND'S
AD 1190
THE recovery of the manor of Mildenhall for one thousand one hundred silver marks, and the expulsion of the Jews from the town of St. Edmund's, and the foundation of a new hospital at Babwell, were signs of great virtue.
The lord abbot sought letters from the king that the Jews might be expelled from the town of St. Edmund's, asserting that whatever is in the town of the
blessed Edmund, or within the district subject to the jurisdiction of the monastery, belongs of right to the Saint, and that consequently the Jews ought either
to be the men of St. Edmund, or else be driven from the town. Leave, therefore, was given to him to eject them, provided that they should have all their
chattels, as well as the value of their houses and lands. And when they were sent forth, and under armed force were conducted to various towns, the abbot
ordered that in every church and before every altar those should be solemnly excommunicated who should henceforth receive Jews or entertain them as
guests in the town of St. Edmund's. This provision was afterwards modified by the justices of the king, to the effect that if Jews should come to the great
pleas of the abbot in order to exact debts due to them from their debtors, then for this reason they might be entertained for two days and two nights in the
town, and depart in peace on the third day.
HOW THE ABBOT SECURED THE MANOR OF MILDENHALL, AND ENDOWED THE HOSPITAL AT BABWELL
AD 1189 September
THE abbot offered king Richard five hundred marks for the manor of Mildenhall, saying that the annual value of that manor was seventy pounds, and that it had been enrolled for that amount in the great roll of Winchester. And when he thought that he would obtain his desire in this matter, the settlement of the affair was postponed to the following day. In the interval there came one to the king and told him that the manor was worth quite one hundred pounds. And so when the abbot urged his request on the morrow, the king said to him, "My lord abbot, it is useless for you to make this petition to me. Either you shall give me a thousand marks, or you shall not have the manor."
But queen Eleanor, who according to the custom of the realm, had the right to receive a hundred marks when the king received a thousand, took from us a
great gold chalice of the value of a hundred marks, and restored this same chalice to us for the good of the soul of king Henry her lord, who had originally
given it to St. Edmund.
AD 1191
At a later date, when the treasure of our church was carried to London for the ransom of king Richard, the queen redeemed the same chalice for a hundred
marks and restored it to us, and received from us a charter in proof of our promise, made on the word of truth, that we would never for any reason alienate
that chalice from our church.
AD 1198
Now when this large sum of money had been collected with great difficulty and had been paid, the abbot, sitting in the chapter, said that he ought to share somewhat in so great an acquisition as that of so fair a manor. And the monastery answered, "That is just. Let it be done according to your will." And the abbot said that he might lawfully claim half of it, and showed that he had spent more than four hundred marks with great labour, but that he would be content with one portion of that manor, a place called Icklingham, and this was most readily granted to him by the monastery. Hearing this, the abbot said, "And I receive that portion of the land for my own purposes, not that I may keep it in my hand or to give it to my relations, but that for the good of my soul and of the souls of all of you, I give it to the new hospital at Babwell, for the support of the poor and for the use of the hospital." So he spoke, and so it was done, and the act was afterwards confirmed by a charter from the king.
These and other like things did abbot Samson, which are worthy to be written down and to be praised for all time. Yet he declared that he would have done nothing, unless in his time he could bring to pass that our church should be dedicated; and when that had been accomplished, he asserted that he was ready to die. Moreover, he said that for the doing of this thing he would expend two thousand marks of silver, if so the king might be present and the affair carried through with due ceremony.
CONCERNING THE CHURCH OF WOOLPIT, AND HOW IT WAS SECURED FOR THE ABBEY
AD 1183
THE abbot learnt that the church of Woolpit was vacant, for Walter of Coutances had been elected to the bishopric of Lincoln. And presently he summoned
together the priorand most of the monastery, and taking up his tale, said:
Between AD 1159 and AD 1162
"You know well what great labours I have undergone in the matter of the church of Woolpit, and how to secure it for your exclusive use I journeyed to Rome by your advice, in the days of the schism between Alexander and Octavian. And I traversed Italy at the time when all clerks bearing letters of pope Alexander were seized, some of them being imprisoned and others hanged, and others, after having their noses and lips cut off, were sent back to the pope to his shame and confusion. I, however, pretended that I was a Scot, and put on Scottish dress, and adopted the manners of a Scot. And I often shook my staff as they shake the weapon which they call a gaveloc at those who mocked me, shouting threatening words in the manner of the Scots. To those who met me and asked me who I was, I answered nothing except, "Ride, ride Rome, turne Cantwereberei." I acted thus that so I might conceal my purpose, and as a Scot might safely reach Rome. Then when I had obtained from the lord pope such letters as I desired, on my homeward way I passed by a certain castle as the road led me from the city. And, lo! the officers of the castle surrounded me, laying hold on me, and crying, "This wanderer, who makes himself out to be a Scot, is either a spy or one bearing letters of the false pope Alexander." And while they closely examined my clothes and boots and undergarments, and even the old shoes, which I carried on my shoulders in the Scottish manner, I put my hand into the little bag which I carried, and in which the letter of the lord pope was contained, lying under a little cup from which I was wont to drink. And the Lord God and St. Edmund willing it, I drew out the writing and the cup together, so that, stretching my hand on high, I held the writ underneath the cup. And they saw the cup, it is true, but they did not notice the writ. And so I escaped their hands, in the name of the Lord. Whatever money I had on me they took away, so that it was necessary for me to beg for my bread, spending nothing, until I came to England. But when I heard that the church was given to Geoffrey Ridel, my soul was grieved with the thought that my labour had been vain. So when I reached home I secretly cast myself before the shrine of St. Edmund, for I feared that the lord abbot would seize me and cast me into prison, who had deserved no ill. And there was no monk who dared to speak with me, and no layman who dared supply me with food, save secretly. At length, the abbot took counsel and exiled me to Acre, and there I long remained. These and many other countless ills I have suffered for the sake of the church of Woolpit. But blessed be God, Who maketh all things work together for good! Behold! the church for which I have borne so many hardships, is given into my hand, and now I have the power to give it to whomsoever I will, since it is vacant. And I restore it to the monastery, and for its sole use I assign the ancient customary due or pension of ten marks, which you have lost for more than sixty years. I would give it in its entirety to you with pleasure were I able to do so; but I know that the bishop of Norwich would forbid this, or if he were to grant it, he would make it an excuse to demand subjection and obedience from you, which is neither wise nor convenient. Therefore let us do what we may lawfully do. Let us place there a clerk as vicar to answer to the bishop for the spiritualities, and to you for the ten marks; and I wish, if you agree, that the vicarage may be given to some relative of Roger de Hengham, a monk and your brother,who was my companion in that journey to Rome, and was exposed to the same dangers as I was and for the same cause."
At these words we all arose and gave thanks; and Hugh, a clerk and a brother of the said Roger, was received in the said church, saving our annual pension
of ten marks.
HOW THE ABBOT DISPUTED WITH THE ARCHBISHOP CONCERNING THE MANOR OF ELEIGH
Circa AD 1186
IN a manor of the monks of Canterbury, which is called Eleigh, and which is in the hundred of the abbot, there chanced to be a murder. 1186. But the archbishop's men would not allow the murderers to take their trial in the court of St. Edmund. Then the abbot made complaint to king Henry, and said that archbishop Baldwin was claiming the liberties of our church for himself, on the ground of a new charter which the king had given to the church of Canterbury after the death of the blessed Thomas.
Then the king answered that he had never given a charter to the prejudice of our church, and that he did not wish to take from the blessed Edmund anything which he had formerly possessed. On hearing this, the abbot said to his intimate advisers: "It is wiser counsel that the archbishop should make complaint of me than that I should make complaint of the archbishop. I wish to place myself in possession of this liberty, and then I will defend myself with the help of St. Edmund, in whose right our charters bear witness that this liberty is."
Accordingly, unexpectedly, and very early in the morning, with the help of Robert de Cokefield, about eighty armed men were sent to the town of Eleigh,
and took those three murderers by surprise and brought them bound, to St. Edmund's, and cast them into the dungeon of the prison. And when the
archbishop made complaint of this, Ranulf Glanvill, the justiciar, commanded that those men should be bound by surety and pledges to stand their trial in the
court wherein they ought to stand it; and the abbot was summoned to come to the court of the king and to make reply concerning the violence and injury
which he was said to have done to the archbishop. And the abbot many times presented himself at the court, without attempting to make excuse.
AD 1187 11th February
AT last, at the beginning of the fasting time, they stood before the king in the chapter-house of Canterbury, and the charters of the two churches were read publicly. And the lord king answered, "These charters are of equal age, and come from the same king Edward. I know not what to say, save that the charters are contradictory." To this the abbot replied, "Whatever may be said about the charters, we are seised of the liberty, and have been in the past, and on this point I will submit to the verdict of the two counties, Norfolk and Suffolk, which will allow this."
Archbishop Baldwin, however, having first taken counsel with his men, said that the men of Norfolk