brothers of such young men and maidens to be the constant friends to their convent, on all occasions at court, and chiefly in all parlia ments. One eminent instance hereof we have in Ralph Nevill, first earl of Westmoreland, of that family; whom I behold as the happiest subject of England since the Conquest, if either we count the number of his children, or measure the height of the honour they attained. He had by MARGARET, his first wife-1. John, his eldest son, lord Nevill, &c. 2. Ralph, in the right of Mary his wife, lord Ferrers of Ously. 3. Maud, married to Peter lord Mauley. 4. Alice, married to Sir Thomas Gray. 5. Philip, married to Thomas lord Dacre of Gillesland. 6. Margaret, married to the lord Scrope of Bolton. 7. Anne, married to Sir Gilbert Umfreville. 8. Margery, abbess of Barking. 9. Elizabeth, a nun. He had by JOAN, his second wife-1. Richard, earl of Salisbury. 2. William, in the right of Joan his wife, lord Faulconbridge [de Fauconberge]. 3. George, lord Latimer. 4. Edward, lord Abergavenny. 5. Robert, bishop of Durham. 6. Thomas, in right of his wife, lord Seymour.* 7. Catherine, married to Thomas duke of Norfolk. 8. Eleanor, to Henry earl of Northumberland. 9. Anne, to Humphrey, duke of Buckingham. 10. Jane, a nun. 11. Cicely, to Richard duke of York, and mother to king Edward IV. See we here the policy of that age, in disposing of their numerous issue. More than the tithe of them was given to the church; and, I trow, the nuns, and abbess especially, were as good madams as the rest, and conceived themselves to go in equipage with their other lady-sisters. And, no wonder if an earl preferred his daughters to be nuns; seeing no king of England, since the Conquest, had four daughters living to woman's estate, but he disposed one of them to be a votary. And Bridget, the fourth daughter to king Edward IV. a nun at Dartford in Kent, was the last princess who entered into a religious Order. 4, 5. Children taught therein. Conveniency of She-Colleges. They were tolerable tutors for the education of youth, there being a great penury of other grammar-schools in that age; and every convent had one or more therein, who, generally gratis, taught the children thereabouts. Yea, they who were loose enough in their own lives, were sufficiently severe in their discipline over others. Grammar was here taught, and music, which in some sort sung her own dirge, (as to the general use thereof,) at the dissolution of abbeys. MILLS, page 393. L Nunneries also were good she-schools, wherein the girls and maids of the neighbourhood were taught to read and work; and sometimes a little Latin was taught them therein. Yea, give me leave to say, if such feminine foundations had still continued, provided no vow were obtruded upon them, (virginity is least kept where it is most constrained,) haply the weaker sex (beside the avoiding modern inconveniences) might be heightened to a higher perfection than hitherto hath been attained. The sharpness of their wits, and suddenness of their conceits, which their enemies must allow unto them, might by education be improved into a judicious solidity, and that adorned with arts, which now they want, not because they cannot learn, but are not taught them. I say, if such feminine foundations were extant now of days, haply some virgins of highest birth would be glad of such places; and, I am sure, their fathers and elder brothers would not be sorry for the same. 6. Monks the sole Historians, and why. They were the sole historians, in writing to preserve the remarkable passages of church and commonwealth. I confess, I had rather any than monks had written the Histories of our land; yet rather than the same should be unwritten, I am heartily glad the monks undertook the performance thereof. Indeed, in all their Chronicles one may feel a rag of a monk's cowl; I mean, they are partial to their own interest. But in that age there was a choiceless choice,— that monks, or none at all, should write our English Histories. Swordmen lacked learning, statesmen leisure, to do it: it was therefore devolved to monks and friars, who had store of time, and no want of intelligence, to take that task upon them. And surely that industrious Bee* hath in our age merited much of posterity; having lately, with great cost and care, enlarged many manuscripts of monks, (formerly confined to private libraries,) that now they may take the free air, and, being printed, publicly walk abroad. Mean time, whilst monks' pens were thus employed, nuns with their needles wrote histories also; that of Christ's passion for their altar-cloths, and other Scripture- (and more legend-) stories in hangings to adorn their houses. 7, 8. Abbots excellent Landlords, and admirable Housekeepers. They were most admirable good landlords; and well might they let and set good pennyworths, who had good pounds-worths freely given unto them. Their yearly rent was so low, as an acknowledgment rather than a rent, only to distinguish the tenant from the An able stationer in Little-Britain, London. landlord. Their fines also were easy; for, though every convent, as a body politic, was immortal, yet because the same consisted of mortal monks for their members, and an old abbot for the head thereof, they were glad to make use of the present time for their profit, taking little fines for long leases. As for rent-beeves, sheep, poultry, &c. reserved on their leases, tenants both paid them the more easily, as growing on the same, and the more cheerfully, because at any time they might freely eat their full share thereof, when repairing to their landlord's bountiful table. Insomuch, that long leases from abbeys were preferred by many before some tenures of freeholds, as less subject to taxes and troublesome attendance. Their hospitality was beyond compare; insomuch that Ovid, (if living in that age,) who feigned famine to dwell in Scythia, would have fancied feasting an inhabitant of English abbeys. Especially in Christmas-time, they kept most bountiful houses. Whosoever brought the face of a man, brought with him a patent for his free welcome, till he pleased to depart. This was the method: Where he brake his fast, there he dined; where he dined, there he supped; where he supped, there he brake his fast next morning: and so in a circle; always provided, that he provided lodging for himself at night; abbeys having great halls and refectories, but few chambers and dormitories, save for such of their own society. 9, 10. Objection against their Hospitality. The same answered. Some will object, that "this their hospitality was but charity mistaken, promiscuously entertaining some who did not need, and more who did not deserve it. Yea, these abbeys did but maintain the poor which they made. For, some vagrants, accounting the abbey-alms their own inheritance, served an apprenticeship, and afterwards wrought journey-work, to no other trade than begging; all whose children were, by their father's copy, made free of the same company. Yea, we may observe, that generally such places wherein the great abbeys were seated, (some few excepted, where clothing began when their convent did end,) swarm most with poor people at this day; as if beggary were entailed on them, and that laziness not as yet got out of their flesh, which so long since was bred in their bones." All this is confessed; yet, by their hospitality, many an honest and hungry soul had his bowels refreshed, which otherwise would have been starved; and better it is, two drones should be fed, than one bee famished. We see the heavens themselves, in dispensing their rain, often water many stinking bogs and noisome lakes, which moisture is not needed by them, (yea, they the worse for it,) only because much good ground lies inseparably intermingled with them; so that, either the bad with the good must be watered, or the good with the bad must be parched away. 11. Ely puts all Abbeys down for Feasting. Of all abbeys in England, Ely bare away the bell for bountiful feast-making, the vicinity of the Fens affording them plenty of flesh, fish, and fowl, at low rates. Hereupon the poet : Prævisis aliis, Eliensia festa videre, "When other feasts before have been, 'Tis like to one who hath seen night, But, with the leave of the poet's hyperbole, other abbeys, as Glastonbury, St. Alban's, Reading, spurred up close to Ely; which, though exceeding them in feasts, (the evidence oft of a miser,) yet they equalled Ely in the constant tenor of house-keeping. The mention of Reading minds me of a pleasant and true story; which, to refresh my wearied self and reader, after long pains, I here intend to relate. 12, 13. A pleasant Story of King Henry VIII. He proves a good Physician. King Henry VIII. as he was hunting in Windsor Forest, either casually lost, or (more probable) wilfully losing himself, struck down about dinner-time to the abbey of Reading; where, disguising himself, (much for delight, more for discovery to see unseen,) he was invited to the abbot's table, and passed for one of the king's guard, a place to which the proportion of his person might properly entitle him. A sirloin of beef was set before him, (so knighted, saith tradition, by this king Henry,) on which the king laid on lustily, not disgracing one of that place for whom he was mistaken. "Well fare thy heart!" quoth the abbot, "and here, in a cup of sack, I remember the health of his Grace your master. I would give a hundred pounds on the condition I could feed so heartily on beef as you do. Alas! my weak and squeasy stomach will hardly digest the wing of a small rabbit or chicken." The king pleasantly pledged him, and heartily thanking him for his good cheer, after dinner departed, as undiscovered as he came thither. Some weeks after, the abbot was sent for by a pursuivant, brought up to London, clapped in the Tower, kept close prisoner, fed for a short time with bread and water. Yet not so empty his body of food, as his mind was filled with fears, creating many suspicions to himself, when and how he had incurred the king's displeasure. At last a sirloin of beef was set before him, on which the abbot fed as the farmer of his grange, and verified the proverb, that "two hungry meals makes the third a glutton." In springs king Henry out of a private lobby, where he had placed himself, the invisible spectator of the abbot's behaviour. "My lord," quoth the king, "presently deposit your hundred pounds in gold, or else no going hence all the days of your life. I have been your physician to cure you of your squeasy stomach; and here, as I deserve, I demand my fee for the same." The abbot down with his dust; and, glad he had escaped so, returned to Reading, as somewhat lighter in purse, so much more merrier in heart than when he came thence. VI. PRESAGES OF THE APPROACHING RUIN OF ABBEYS. 1, 2. Oldham's Prophecy of the Friars' Fall; seconded by Abbot Whitgift. THE wisest and most religious amongst the Romanists presaged and suspected a downfall of these convents some years before it came to pass. For, when it was in the intention and design of Richard Fox, bishop of Winchester, to have built a monastery; Hugh Oldham, bishop of Exeter, dissuaded him, affirming that "such convents possessed more already than they would long enjoy." He advised him rather to bestow his bounty on founding some college in the university, as which was likely to last longer, and certain to do more good; promising also his own utmost assistance in so pious an undertaking. This was done accordingly; Fox being the first founder of, and Oldham a liberal benefactor to, Corpus Christi College in Oxford. Add to this a speech of Robert Whitgift, abbot of Wellow, nigh Grimsby, in Lincolnshire, uncle to archbishop Whitgift, who was wont to say, that "they and their religion (chiefly in relation to monasteries) could not long continue; because" said he, "I have read the whole Scripture over and over, and could never find therein that our religion was founded by God."+ And, for proof of his opinion, the abbot would allege that saying of our Saviour: "Every planting which my heavenly Father hath not planted, shall be rooted up." And, that he proved a true prophet herein, the next book will sufficiently evidence. • GODWIN in the Bishop of Winchester. Life, page 3. VOL. II. † SIR GEORGE PAUL in Whitgift's |